Letters

Moscow, 1939. A translator hides truth in the lining of his coat.
Forty-four years later, someone finally finds it.

The coat remembers what history forgot.

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"You — the man I trusted to measure the lie precisely — softened it. Fed me a version of Hitler's intentions that was slightly less sharp than the truth. And I calculated from that version. And the calculation was wrong."

Three million men. Enough.

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