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...
Duncan MacLendon’s business career seemed doomed on that seventeenth hole. And instead of his most dependable iron, he found himself wielding that warped, unbalanced monstrosity, the...
The three of them were spawned in the same ugly slum — the Sink, where crime was commonplace, and all the sordid, brooding streets led to dead ends.
But these three were hard. They managed to get through the No Exit...