Explore "Satan's Incubator" by Randolph Craig on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
JEFFREY FAIRCHILD'S sedan, at first glance, seemed as dissimilar from Dr. Skull's old jalopy as night is from day. But under their hoods, they were identical; the only two of their kind in use in New York. Like the jalopy, the bright new sedan was equipped with a powerful Diesel motor which Jeffrey had designed and installed himself. And also like the jalopy, its smooth painted sides were of heavy plated steel.
It was a little after one in the afternoon when Jeffrey headed toward Queens. He was tired and bruised and his eyes had to strain to see anything at all--but he didn't realize his weariness. There was a tiny package wrapped in cotton-wool, and sewed into the lining of his hip pocket. It was a small package, but there were few men who would have risked carrying it, even insulated as it was against jolting.