He paced from one side of the room to the other and stopped briefly to stare at the telephone on the side table. “The police,” he thought. “I should… I should…” He sat down hard in a chair near the fireplace and took his head in his hands. What could he possibly tell the police? That he had reaso...
A head popped around the corner sheepishly, and Case Bermel peered into the inner office, his hat in his hand. He squinted slightly. The office was in semi-darkness, and a single lamp on the desk was turned towards the door, causing him to blink in discomfort, but he was fairly certain that the f...
Were his body not still adjusting to the time difference, he could never have slept this early, but as it was he could almost convince himself that the Red Panda had completed his patrols of the city and was ready to allow his alter ego to rest. Weston fussed over preparin...
23910 Access Acre, Grid 4. The South Key Shipping Company. I knew it and she knew that I knew it. If she was trying to get the hell away from me, which seemed wise at first glance, she’d be trying to get there as fast as she could. Which meant that she was running, not walking, into the open arms...
The men seated around the great mahogany table in the Club Macaw's conference room were grave, worried and becoming angry. Marcus Bennett was there, still looking ashen after his brush with doom. To his right sat Gilbert MacKinnon, whose company ran much of the shipping in and out of Toronto Harb...