After thinking the matter over, Harold went upstairs and spoke with the head librarian, who was horrified at the suggestion that the book be pulled. She vowed to “go to the wall.” Hammermeister thoughtlessly warned her that librarians were a dime a dozen. It was the codeine talking. At least there were no witnesses.

That night Hammermeister left the building well after dark, and when he got to his car he discovered that all four tires were flat. Later, after a tow truck had hauled the car in, Hammermeister was informed that the tires were okay. The party that flattened them had simply removed the valve-core stems, then after the tires were deflated, poured Krazy Glue into the valves. The culprits didn’t pull the valves and run, they were brazen enough to wait until the tires went flat and then carefully squirted glue into the valves. They even took the trouble to screw the valve caps back on. Professionals! The valves were of a type that wasn’t available at that hour of the night. The car would be ready tomorrow afternoon.

Head down, hands in pocket, Hammermeister furiously strode the three miles to his apartment through a biting Nanook of the North sleet storm. Just as he cut through the back entrance, where the covered parking stalls were located, he heard the abrupt rustling of leather jackets. He barely turned his head when a large tawny palm engulfed his face like an eclipse of the sun. The mighty hand snapped Harold’s head back and firmly cradled it between the abductor’s solid chest and a rock-hard biceps muscle. As his face was getting squashed Hammermeister suddenly felt his shins getting pounded with fierce woodpecker rapidity. The tonk tonk tonk sounds were those of an aluminum baseball bat. Hammermeister sagged halfway to the ground, but the large hand held him firmly like he was some kind of rag doll, and Hammermeister was not a small man. He stood over 6′2″ but with all of the recent stress, he was down twenty pounds from his normal weight of two hundred and twelve.

The powerful hand that encased his face forced Harold’s mouth to open in an “O” as a thick, wet, balled-up sock was rammed inside, a smelly cloth was placed over his eyes, and then, as Hammermeister heard the quick rip of duct tape, the stinking rag was adhered to his face like a layer of fast-drying cement.