He’d been a big shot yesterday — he’d make tomorrow’s headlines. But this was today... the day he had to prove himself to ten gents — who were hell on...
The Howler was a nice boss, but he earned his nickname. He’d stand in the middle of his big restaurant kitchen, flapping his arms and screaming, while the help waited for him to burst. Noisy? You’d be noisy, too, if you knew what he knew!...
In that precise, antiseptic, post-war society, thirteen hell-raising old space-warriors were as obsolete as brass knuckles in a debate... and somewhat more of a nuisance.
So brass-bands played, and brass-hats brayed... and a coffin ship left for...
When an author turns out several stories a month — and they’re all first-rate, which is unusual — you’d think, rightly, that he’d been in the game a long time. But that’s not the case with John D. MacDonald. Even though he falls into the...