• King of the Weeds: the final Mike Hammer novel

    CHAPTER ONE

    When you suddenly realize you're about to be killed, all your mind does is tell you that you were dumb. You had the experience, you had the physical abilities, you had the animal instincts.

    But you were dumb.

    Maybe you had played the game too long. Maybe that last round of injuries had left a deeper wound than you thought.

    The little man in the tailored navy blue suit, a raincoat draped over his right arm, was waiting on my floor when the elevator opened and I stepped out. He never raised his head to look at me, the brim of his pale blue hat even with my nose. He smelled faintly of too-strong aftershave. I thought nothing of it, but did wonder why that raincoat was dry on a rainy morning like this.

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