Chapter 68 The Truth In Tapes
- The bunker’s air tasted like static and lies.
- Solo stood by the steel desk, his finger hovering over a battered VCR. The monitor’s blue glow carved hollows under his eyes, making him look older, gaunter, like a ghost who’d forgotten how to haunt.
- I braced myself against the wall of maps, their edges trembling in the draft from the vents.