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Show page 91 the corridor toward his office. The man's head swung down over Fad's right arm like the head of a dead chicken. The man's companion was in Fad's office, his feet on Fad's desk, amusing himself with the brown packet, tossing and retoss-ing i t chest high. Fad walked past the office, to the loading ramp, into the cavernous body of the truck. He dropped the dead man beside the few crates he had loaded and started back toward his office. The dead man's companion stood on the loading ramp, a snub-nose gun in his hand. Fad ignored the man and the gun, moved on to his office and picked up the phone. The man jumped behind him, shoved his gun in Fad's back and ripped the phone wires from the wall, then backed off to the office doorway, "We got to do business, Fad," he said, "Sutherland's got these goods sold already." Fad faced him calmly. "I unload those crates, you take your money and your friend and leave." The man became excited. "Boy, I t e l l you Sutherland -- " Fad interrupted: "Don't c a l l me ' b o y ' . My name i s Charles Stillman." "Boy, Stillman, l e t ' s get to work!" He raised the gun. Fad slapped him hard, then shoved him backward from the office doorway. The man f e l l full length on the warehouse floor. He jerked t o a s i t t i n g position, fired his gun s t r a i g h t into Fad's broad chest, then struggled to his feet. Fad grabbed him on the r i s e , twisting his arm and gun inward against a bony rib cage, and heloed him pump three b u l l e t s into himself before he |