“I‘VE got to get some chow or I’m going to faint,” Dan Sharp announced to the desk attendants. “Let’s go down.”
“I’m not going to argue with that,” one of the women said. “I’m all in favor of immediate food.”
Three good-humored, outgoing women covered the front desk during the night shift and helped Sharp with the voluminous paperwork: Maria Furboch, Josie Peterson, and Atsede Elegba. They were all starved. It was two-forty, a little past the time that the front-office people normally took their meal break. Sharp rarely had anything else that might pass for a full meal, except what he ate at this ungodly hour, so a few minutes of delay taking a break went right to his stomach. A frozen look had come across his face.
Sharp set aside some printouts ...