His death was a thin red line on a chart… not a gun, not poison, but simply the cold, errorless science of the doomsday men. And even as he prepared to fight it. Larkin knew grimly that — for him — there was no escape in this...
With murder — or worse — in his little black bag he roamed the underworld — the timid little salesman of eternity who gagged at killing — yet killed for a...
The conference was over. Quinn, in the background, beamed. The three Texas money men looked at Molly in delighted wonder. This delicious blonde had the brain of an IBM...
They had him on the spot, this clean, big boy who knew his day in the ring had passed and wanted to hang up his gloves. But Big John had one friend who wouldn’t hesitate to match a rotten deal with equally shady trickery to right a...