So, he asked them where Mr. Wolfenstein was. They pointed to me. He looked back at me, “Mr. Wolfenstein?”“Yes, I’m his grandson. Unfortunately... my grandfather died recently. He sent me to check a few of his holding and collect some of his things.”“Hmm, then I expect you will want to see Stark. Mr. Wolfenstein and Stark worked closely together.”“I’ll send a runner for him. Meanwhile ... casting about, I guess that office is as good as any other.” And he led me to it. “Sorry about the clutter.. . This isn't a practical joke, is it?... A what?" Art pounded his forehead with his fist, his upper jaw worked against his lower one, and his face graduated from a deep red to a pale pink, and then snow white, and finally slate gray without ever once hitting its normal complexion. Arms swinging at his sides, he took yard-long steps back to the Dodge and slammed the door, never turning to stare at a bewildered Buddy who stepped on the accelerator. The squealed out of the parking lot.When they. More

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