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Shadow took a quarter from his pocket, tails up. He flicked it up in the air, knocking it against his finger as it left his hand to give it a wobble that made it look as if it were turning, caught it, slapped it down on the back of his hand. “Call,” he said. “Why?” asked Wednesday. “I don’t want to work for anyone with worse luck than me. Call.” “Heads,” said Mr. Wednesday. “Sorry,” said Shadow, revealing the coin without even bothering to glance at it. “It was tails. I rigged the toss.
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