Edge of Destruction Read Online Free

bought hard-to-get computer parts there, and I've noticed the place carries a lot of cheap foreign videotapes. If nothing else, we can ask them the names of other stores to look in."
    "Hmm," Joe grunted grudgingly. “Once in awhile you do come up with an Okay idea."
    "Let's hope this one pans out," said Frank. "As Peterson said, otherwise it's back to square zero."
    Joe looked out the window. "Well, here's where we find out," he said as the train came to a grinding halt at the Grand Central Station stop.
    The boys joined the flow of passengers moving rapidly out of the car. Ina minute they found a sign telling them which ramp to take to the surface.
    "What a maze down here," said Joe. "Makes me feel like A mouse in a laboratory experiment." He looked around at all the people jostling past. It was as if everyone was in a race to be the first up the ramp. "One mouse in a mob of mice.”
    “The subways are just part of the underground," said Frank. "There are the railroad lines here, too. Plus a lot of other facilities. I once read a newspaper article on Grand Central Station. It said that so many different things have been built under the station since it first went up that nobody has a complete map of them all."
    "Who would want one?" said Joe as they reached the top of the ramp. "Give me life above ground anytime."
    Joe didn't feel much better, though, after they made their way through the crowded station and exited up on the street.
    "I still feel like I'm underground,” he said. They were on a sidewalk that lay in the permanent shadow of towering buildings. Only a narrow strip of bright blue sky above them proved that it was still broad daylight. Edging the blue were dark gray clouds that would bring rain later.
    Frank put his hand on Joe's arm. "Wait," he said. "Here's the store."
    On the window was a big sign proclaiming SUPER SALE! GOING OUT for BUSINESS! with the word for written in nearly invisible ink. Inside were display counters jammed with every conceivable kind of electronic goods.
    "Kajimaki videotape?" said the salesman. "You're in luck. We're the only place in town that carries it. The company went out of business last year, and we snapped up their last shipment. That's why we're able to offer it at an unbelievably low price. In fact, if you buy one of our new VCRs, also on special sale, we'll toss in five tapes free." “Actually, we just want some information," said Frank. The eager gleam in the salesman's eyes faded. “You want information?" he said. “There's a big booth inside Grand Central Station that'll give you information. They'll even give it for free. This place is a store. We sell things. You give us money, we give you merchandise. Got it?" Frank and Joe exchanged glances. This man was so warm-so friendly. “Look, I'd like to buy Some of those video tapes," Frank began. “in fact, if the price is right, maybe I'll buy you out. But first I want to be sure the stuff is okay," he said. "You ever get any complaints ?"
    “Absolutely not," said the salesman indignantly. "Do you think this establishment would sell anything not backed up with an iron-clad guarantee?"
    "Is that your guarantee?" Frank asked, pointing. A small, faded sign was attached to the wall with peeling Scotch tape. In tiny letters, the sign said, "All sales final. Absolutely no refunds." "Oh that," said the salesman. "That's just to discourage cranks." That got a smile from Frank. "Well," he said, "not that I don't believe you, but maybe you can tell me if you've sold many of these tapes."
    "Sold many? Of course we have," said the salesman.
    "How many?" asked Frank.
    “A lot," said the salesman.
    "How many is a lot?" asked Frank.
    "Quite a few," said the salesman.
    "How many is quite a few?" asked Frank. "A number," said the salesman.
    "What number?" asked Frank.
    "Just yesterday a guy came in and bought a couple of tapes," the salesman said.
    "Just one person has bought Kajimaki tape?"
    "For pete's sake, kid, we just got the