PREVIEW
... tood in the doorway.
The first was William Hargreaves. He was somewhere in his early fifties, lean and composed, in a dark navy suit that had clearly been made for him rather than bought off a rack.
His tie was a deep burgundy, his shoes the kind that had been maintained rather than replaced. He carried a slim leather portfolio under one arm and held himself with the easy, unhurried confidence of someone who had walked into important rooms for long enough that the rooms no longer ...
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