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His thoughts became weird flashes which changed abruptly like a kaleidoscope. Sweden, maroon on a map, Norway in green. A vice-president with a wife of Swedish stock….My God, he hadn’t caught the significance. Could that be his link with the grand concept?…Mark Hollenbach, his crew cut bristling like a mop of spikes, striding toward Hudson Bay in a black turtleneck sweater. Walking, walking, with earphones strapped to his head and the murmurs of a thousand exotic conversations pouring in from telephone lines across the continent. O’Malley, Spence and the Chicago banker, Davidge, standing mute and stunned in the background….Hollenbach on a dais in Stockholm, wearing robes of royal purple, and studying a military map of Europe with a cluster of generals in strange uniforms….
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