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across his knotted shoulders. |
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There his thoughts turned to Colonel Harry Preston Driver, a man he had once revered, a man once known as one of the Air Force's most respected arctic specialists, and the main reason why Charlie had put in for the Pepperell assignment in the first place. Driver had been the chance of a meteorological lifetime, a chance to work for the master. |
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Now it was Driver, the son of a bitch, the man who had twice denied him the opportunity to go before the promotion board. Driver, the moralist, had condemned Frazier for his behavior. Driver, the pompous ass, had actually scribbled across his promotion appeal, "Denied because of licentious behavior unbecoming an officer and a gentleman." |
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Driver had a gift coming if anyone did, and tonight he was going to get one. |
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Frazier crawled out of the shower, toweled off and walked briskly back up the hall to his room. He walked over to the closet and stared at the box containing the four jars. One for Cappy. One for Colonel Driver. One for Ruthie. And last, but not least, one for his brother, wherever the simpering bastard was hiding these days. |
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He checked the time7:10. And since the Witch had assured him that he would arbitrarily know which jar to give which person, Frazier's work was almost done. He rum- |
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