CHAPTER 42 —

They called it the quiet war because most of the violence happened in inboxes and code, in rooms with too much coffee and people who knew how to measure the weight of a pause. The city, obedient in its lateness, sent noon light through courthouse windows; it landed on paperwork and made dust motes look important. Nicole sat at a long table in a windowed conference room that smelled faintly of lemon disinfectant and old paper. Around her, the small army assembled: Harrow with a ...