“As he looked through the room-length windows overlooking the factory complex, the idea came full-born to Lyon. Froelich Fox danced along the distant water tank and then appeared on the roof of the foundry, only to scamper along the conduit pipes toward building number three. Undoubtedly he’d have a comfortable lair hidden deep in the recesses of the warehouse. The idea was well-shaped, and Lyon felt the excitement that preceded the actual writing of the book. He turned from the window and sat d...own at the large conference table. In front of each place was a legal pad and well-sharpened pencils. He began to make notes at a furious pace. “You’ve got something,” Rocco said from the other end of the large table. “Yes, yes,” Lyon muttered without looking up. “I knew you would, I knew it.” Rocco came around the table and stood behind Lyon to peer over his shoulder at the pad. “Jesus H. Christ,” the large man said. “The Fox in the Factory.” “Yes,” Lyon muttered again and turned to a fresh sheet of paper.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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