The Eternal War is Here (excerpt)

Rochard book.jpg

It was getting late, near nine AM, and he must have been about three quarters through his first bottle of vin ordinaire.  He asked me my name, three times, then hauled out, with shaking arms, a leatherbound book the size of an atlas.  With his trembling arthritic senile hand he made a few marks in it, or a single word in his sinister jagged terminal Latin, occasionally seen in a posted signature, where we could watch it threatening slowly to shrivel and ossify into Protestant gothic script.  Then he sent me on my way.