Two cell phones, two wallets, two sets of keys, four shoes, a pair of jeans, a white dress shirt, a three-piece navy polyester pantsuit, and a white forty-two-double-D brassiere with matching panties hit him in the face, one after the other. He didn’t dare look away. Horror froze him. At length he brushed their clothes off his head and noticed a total absence of mangled human remains. Uh-oh. He knew what had happened now. He groaned. Then he realized what he would have to do to find them and groaned louder. Up on the edge of the roof, someone stared down. The night watchman? Clay said some bad words, then ran into the building. Inside the lobby, men in uniform yapped around a crowd of cursing printers like sheepdogs. A guy in a suit accosted Clay. “You. Do you have identification?” All became clear to Clay. In his most amiable fake Texan accent he explained that he was a citizen, and he showed his ID, and he stood beside Harry the security guy as half a dozen printers were hustled out into the waiting van.
