"God! I had no idea it was that bad out there!" said our friend.

“We keep it quiet," I said. "It's not the kind of thing you'd to talk about upstairs, for instance. Not with the press around.”

Our man agreed. "Hell no!" he said. "We'd never hear the ~goddamn end of it."

"Dobermans don't talk," I said.

"What?"

"Sometimes it's easier to just rip out the backstraps," said attorney.

"They'll fight like hell if you try to take the I without dogs."

“God almighty!"

We left him at the bar, swirling the ice in his drink and not smiling. He was worried about whether or not to tell his wife It it. "She'd never understand," he muttered. "You know women are."

I nodded. My attorney was already gone, scurrying through of slot machines toward the front door. I said goodbye end, warning him not to say anything about what him.