Birkman jerked with a start as the old Dodge came to a rest in a lot at the side of the factory, a pre-fab corrugated structure the size of an airplane hangar.  There were rusty cars here and there along the muddy clearing that separated the plant from an endless stretch of potato fields.  Two young boys, seven or eight, were playing in a mud puddle as the truck pulled up. “I’ll tell the mukkety-muks you’re here so they can roll out t... Full Story