At the same hour, across the city, Helena Locke—known in underground circles as “the Cipher” for her uncanny ability to crack any code—was already on her way. She moved through the foggy streets like a shadow, her trench coat flapping against the wind. In her bag, hidden beneath a battered copy of The Odyssey , lay a notebook filled with fragments of an ancient script she had been chasing for months. The script always seemed to end abruptly, as if the author had been interrupted.
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