The Man Who Burned Station 7
Victor Hayle's office smells of cedar and ink — a civilised man's refuge. He does not rise when you enter, does not flinch at the documents spread across his desk. His silver hair catches the lamplight like wire. He has been expecting you.
'Greer was going to expose the network's financial foundations,' he says, almost gently. 'Everything built on falsified land grants, bribed officials, buried bodies — long before my time, but mine to protect.' He slides an envelope across the mahogany. 'Walk away. Or stay, and become another voice screaming into dead copper.'
The dead have already given you everything you need — the question is whether you have the nerve to use it.
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