Fresco closed the door behind him before turning to look around. He felt instantly overwhelmed. The large, high-ceilinged office was crammed with stuff. Piles of old newspapers and magazines and books were everywhere, bowing the bookshelves and stacked in unsteady piles in corners, often leaning against each other for support. The rug on the floor, what was visible of it, used to be a rich red, but was faded with time to a pinky-orange with a heavy shag pile. Across the mountains of ...