Somehow he’d ended up with someone else’s coat . . . and that act could end Robert Bowser’s life before it started.
His hand trembled as he answered the phone.
''Mr. Bowser?''
''Yes.''
''Mr. Bowser, my name is Harvey Plangman.''
''Yes, Mr. Plangman. I have your wallet, and jacket, too, I believe.''
''And I have yours.''
''Why don’t you drive over here? I could offer you a drink and we could reclaim our things.''
''Mr. Bowser, were you planning on going to Brazil?''
Was this really how the world ended?
''You don’t have anything to be afraid of, Mr. Bowser.''
''I’d better come there.''
''Yes, I think it would be better if you came here. You’ll know who I am all right, Mr. Bowser. I’m wearing your coat . . .
