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The firm rap on my office door caused me to glance up from the report I was updating. Anthony Sebring, Sr., stood in the doorway. “Mann.” “Yes.” What he was doing here in Langley? He was usually at State. “Please, come in.” I rose, about to cross my office to offer him my hand. “You wished to see me, sir?” He held up his hand. “Sit down, please.” He closed the door and took a seat on the other side of my desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Sebring?” “You know who I am?” The man whose family had espionage bred into their bones, who was almost royalty in the intelligence community? I would have chuckled in wry amusement, but Mr. Freeze never permitted any emotion to cross his face. “Yes, sir.” “Good. I wish to speak with you.” “Of course. May I offer you a brandy?” I kept a bottle in t