Nowhere. No one is ever going to hear from you again, sir. No one."
'Uh... well... I...'
'You profane my world, sir! I cannot... I will not permit you to exist... here!"
'In that case, Doctor, why not tell me of your work? You know... condemned man's last request.'
He walked over and put a paternal arm around my shoulders, but the grip of his hand was like steel. He was a lot stronger than he looked. Not big or beefy. But strong.
'Just a dumb reporter... doing his job...'
He looked closely at me, eye to eye.
'You grovel nicely, Mr...'
'Kolchak, sir.'
'Story. You want your story, do you, Mr. Kolchak? Your precious, pitiful story? Your bloody pound of journalistic flesh?'
I smiled but it stuck halfway into a sickly grin. I was clammy. I was trembling. I could feel my wet trouser leg sticking to my flesh and was grateful I'd eaten nothing solid.
