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approval. “All right, Ghost,” he said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
The first morning, at 8:03 a.m., a courier in a crisp navy blazer delivered an envelope to my son.
I watched from down the street with binoculars as Benjamin appeared in the window of the second-floor office, tore it open, read the contents. Confusion moved across his face first.continue reading …
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