Dale stared at the envelope on his desk. It was a big one; a big yellow manila envelope without a return address but he knew well enough where it came from. He lifted his face out of his hands and sighed. From his office window he could see the city, the hazy mid-morning of a cold Chicago day. He pulled his arm back in a slow, wide arc and tried to stretch it as best he could.

His body was still sore. After he'd tumbled out that window he'd had to tear off and around his own house, pull on the ratty robe that was stuffed in the hamper on...