John Dortmunder was a man on whom the sun shone only when he needed darkness. Now, like an excessively starry sky, a thousand fluorescent lights in great rows under the metal roof of this huge barnlike store building came flickering and buzzing and sqlurping on, throwing a great glare over all the goods below, and over Dortmunder, too, and yet he knew this vast Speedshop discount store in this vast blacktop shopping mall in deepest New Jersey, very near Mordor, did not open at ten minutes past two in the morning. That's why he was here.
- From Bad News by Donald E. Westlake
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