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Chapter hundred twenty seven

Bryan staggered back a little, struggling to process the jarring change in Jenkins’ voice. The old man he had known was frail, his voice barely rising above a whisper. Yet, the voice on the phone now was strong and assertive, unrecognizable as Jenkins'. He glanced around, half-expecting to see the old man materialize in front of him, but there was nothing—just the lingering sound of his own breathing and the hum of the city around him.

"Jenkins?" Bryan asked again, his voice edged with uncertainty. He wanted to be sure he wasn’t speaking to someone else, someone who had somehow gotten hold of Jenkins’ phone. His skepticism was palpable, though he hoped it wasn’t the case.

“It’s me, Bryan. You said I should call you right? You did give me your card,” the voice on the line said. Bryan could almost hear the confidence emanating from the speaker. It was a tone of authority that starkly contrasted with the frailty he had grown accustomed to.

“You sound different,” Bryan said, his laugh com
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