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“Ms. Walsh,” he said, “follow me.”
He led me to an elevator and up to the top floor, where everything was quieter and more private. Guards stood at intervals. Thick carpet swallowed every sound. The hallway smelled like expensive flowers and antiseptic.
Matteo stopped at a door and knocked once.
“She’s here,” he said. “With the cases.”
A pause.
Then Sandro’s continue reading …
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