Chapter 3

           "You’regoingtohaveyousometroublewithPercy,"Harrysaidaswewalkedbackupthehallandintomyoffice.DeanStanton,sortofmythirdincommand—wedidn’tactuallyhavesuchthings,asituationPercyWetmorewouldhavefixedupinaflash—wassittingbehindmydesk,updatingthefiles,ajobIneverseemedtogetaroundto.Hebarelylookedupaswecamein,justgavehislittleglassesashovewiththeballofhisthumbanddivedbackintohispaperwork.

           "Ibeenhavingtroublewiththatpeckerwoodsincethedayhecamehere,"Isaid,gingerly,pullingmypantsawayfrommycrotchandwincing."Didyouhearwhathewasshoutingwhenhebroughtthatbiggalootdown?"

           "Couldn’tverywellnot,"Harrysaid."Iwasthere,youknow."

           "Iwasinthejohnandhearditjustfine,"Deansaid.Hedrewasheetofpapertohim,helditupintothelightsoIcouldseetherewasacoffee-ringaswellastypingonit,andthentosseditintothewastebasket."Deadmanwalking."Musthavereadthatinoneofthosemagazineshelikessomuch."

           Andheprobablyhad.PercyWetmorewasagreatreaderofArgosyandStagandMen’sAdventure.Therewasaprisontaleineveryissue,itseemed,andPercyreadthemavidly,likeamandoingresearch.Itwaslikehewastryingtofindouthowtoact,andthoughttheinformationwasinthosemagazines.