Perhaps it was the oppressive darkness, which impelled Cliff Howard to get up and draw back the curtains. For a moment he stood looking out over the moon-lighted, blacked-out capital, then stretched out again on the leather couch in the office.
It had been his hope to get in at least a few hours’ sleep before morning. His plans for the marvelous QQ-g*n had been completed late that night and he wanted to be as clear-eyed as possible when he presented it in the morning to the General Staff. But a vague restlessness, almost an uneasiness, had thwarted him and sleep would not come.
Beyond the locked and bolted office door he could hear the tread of the sentries ceaselessly pacing their posts in the brilliantly lit corridor. Within, the details of the darkened office, now illuminated by the b
