Malzberg saw that the conversation hadn’t gone as he had hoped, and he stammered that he had to leave. Standing up, he shook the editor’s hand, nodded at Tarrant, and fled. In the corridor, as he pressed the button for the elevator, a sinking sense of the encounter washed over him, and he began to tremble. A second later, Campbell came around the corner, probably on his way to the bathroom. For an instant, the two men simply looked at each other. At last, the editor’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry about it, son,” Campbell said gently. “I just like to shake ’em up.”
