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.. thanks. Not even a scratch.”Connor’s patience held and after another pregnant moment of thought he abruptly shoved his reloaded gun back into his shoulder holster and after a loud sigh, reached across the desk for his whiskey decanter. He poured himself a stiff three fingers of the really good stuff and then he poured another stiff trio of the golden elixir into a glass for me. I needed it by now; my headache was hammering me from the inside, desperate even for a short mental rest from probing and shifting the probabilities of getting the boss to see reason ... and hopefully for the long term.“To peace then.” He muttered, offering to clink glasses with me in formalized agreement. I obliged, and we enjoyed our drinks with a moment or two of silence. Then with a louder sigh, he pulled open the upper right hand drawer of his ornate desk and pulled out a large metal strong box and then groped in his pockets for the key. The chances were virtually zero that he was pulling out another.
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