FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. “That’s what we narcs have to do. Old Bedlam. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. We’re regarded as inflammable litter that mustn’t be left about. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. Not then.
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