The room froze.Marcus never took his eyes off the computer screen. His breathing had become shallow. “I buried that face thirty years ago,” he whispered.Maya frowned. “What do you mean… buried?”Marcus shook his head. “I didn’t bury a body.” He swallowed. “I buried an identity.”Felix enlarged the image. It was an old intake photograph. A little boy. About three years old. Dark hair. Serious eyes. Around his neck hung a small metal tag with one number engraved on it. 47. The file contained no name. No birth date. No parents. Only: SUBJECT 47. STATUS: REASSIGNED. ACCESS RESTRICTED.Marcus remembered. Thirty years earlier, Roland had asked him to witness the sealing of several Ashgrove legal files. Marcus had assumed they were routine adoption records. Instead, he had found one file with no child’s name. Only a number. Forty-Seven. When he questioned it, the official processing the documents simply smiled. “Names create attachments.” “Numbers are easier.” Marcus had never forgotten th
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