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FORTY YEARS A LIE - FORTY YEARS A SPY

  The snow flurries were getting more persistent Brad noted as he surveyed the wintry scene from his bedroom window. It wouldn’t be long before it started to lay which was the last thing he wanted when faced with an hour and a half drive to Kansas City to pick up his wife Marci from the airport. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought and turned away from the window. Marci didn’t fly in until nine thirty tomorrow morning so with a bit of luck the weather would have picked up a little by then. He certainly hoped so, he no longer felt confident driving on the busy roads, which was ironic given he was a man who’d spent his life in the most dangerous of professions.             He felt his eyes being drawn across the room to a row of framed photographs perched on top of a chest of drawers. In the first, a much fitter twenty-four-year-old version of himself smiled mockingly from the cockpit of an F86 Sabre jet. The picture had been taken at Kimpo airbase back in 1953 and he’d just retur

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