“You do all the talking for the two of you?”

“Yep.”

“What’s the matter with the gook, he don’t talk?”

“He doesn’t do any talking. And so far neither have you.”

James put his hand lightly on his pal’s clenched fist and patted him. A tender gesture. “Mr. Burke, I must again apologize for my friend here. His family was killed by terrorists back home. They were blacks, of course, but we later learned that they had Chinese leadership. You understand…”

“You think my partner was one of the terrorists?”

“Don’t be silly. I just mean-”

“I’m not silly, just confused. Are you people cops, journalists, businessmen, or just a couple of thrill-seeking faggots?”

Gunther was on his feet, opened his mouth to say something, then focused his eyes sufficiently to notice the double-barreled sawed-off I had leveled at his face. He closed his mouth and sat down. James hadn’t moved. I turned the shotgun sideways so they could see it didn’t have a stock. It didn’t have much of a barrel either, just about enough to sheath the shells waiting inside. I moved it lightly from one to the other.

“You call and pressure me until I finally agree to meet with you. I send a cab for you, bring you to this place I had to rent for the evening. You cost my partner and me a lot of time and some money too. Then you come here and talk a lot of garbage-now you want to threaten me too? You have business or not?”

“We have business, Mr. Burke, serious business. Business that could make you a rich man, if you’ll just allow me to speak.”

“Speak. First, you carrying, either of you?”

James said no, but Gunther reached in his pocket and took out a pair of brass knuckles. Laying them on the table in front of me, he said, “That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

Gunther wasn’t finished with his heavy act yet. “That’s all I ever need,” he said, and settled back into silence.

“Let’s just start over,” James said. “We have a buyer for certain goods in our home country, and we have a seller of those same goods. What we need is for those goods to reach the buyer, and when they do, there is a handsome commission available to the individual who expedites matters. We understand that you have the means to accomplish this, and we simply want to put that proposition on the table.”

“What goods?”

“Fifteen hundred long arms, about half-divided between Armalites and AK-47s, two thousand rounds for each weapon, five hundred bulletproof jackets, four dozen SAM-7s, some pump-action.12 gauges, and some other miscellaneous items.”

“To where?”

“That’s not important.”

“How do I move them if I don’t know where to?”

“You don’t have to move them, Mr. Burke. That’s the beauty of this. All we want from you is a valid End Use Certificate from your friends in Africa. We’ll do the rest.”

“And the money?”

“Half a million, U.S. Payable anyway you say.”

“What makes you think I can get an End Use Certificate?”

“Mr. Burke, suffice it to say that we are aware of your services to the former Republic of Biafra. We are aware of an exile government now operating in the Ivory Coast and your friendship with that government.”

“I see.”

“It would work like this. We would purchase the goods and stockpile them in this country. You obtain the certificate, valid in the Ivory Coast. How we get the goods from there to our home country is our problem-we simply trade the certificate for the money.”

“Sounds simple.”

“It is simple.”

“And you’d purchase the goods simply on my say-so?”

“Well, of course, we’d have to have a deposit on your end. We’re risking all the goods, and we have people to answer to. But it’s important enough to our cause to take the chance and trust you substantially-”

“How substantially?”

“I don’t follow.”

“How much of a deposit?”

“As you know, ten percent is traditional. But in your case, because of your reputation, we would accept only two percent.”

“Of the total value of the goods?”

“Certainly not, Mr. Burke. We realize that individuals don’t have that kind of cash available. Only two percent of the value of the commission you are to receive for the certificate.”

“So ten thousand?”

“Exactly.”

“So I put up ten thousand, and you put up what?”

“Mr. Burke, we put up title to the goods-in your name or in whatever name you desire. Title to the goods in your name, F.O.B. London. Of course, the goods will never leave the States until you hand us the certificate, but you will have title.”

“So what would prevent me from just selling the goods on my own?”

That was Gunther’s cue to role-play again. He leaned forward. “It wouldn’t be worth it to you.” Picking up the brass knuckles, he rapped them on the table for emphasis.

I sat back like I was thinking about it but then Gunther had to overact again and spoil everything. He looked over at Max. “What’s the matter with the chink? How come he don’t talk?”

James looked pained, as if Gunther were a dangerous madman just barely under control. A good act, but the wrong stage.

“He talks,” I said. “I interpret for him.”

“Oh yeah? That’s real nice. Ask the chink what year this is?”

“What year?”

“Yeah, you know. The gooks all have names for years, right? Like the Year of the Dragon or the Year of the Horse. Ask him what year this is-I got a feeling this is the Year of the Pussy.”

I knew I shouldn’t have made that crack about faggots, but it was obviously too late now. Max looked at Gunther, smiled, tapped his forehead, and shook his head negatively. I was in it anyway by then, so I translated. “He says he knows what year it isn’t.”

“What year is that, wise guy?”

Max repeated his earlier gestures, then reached out onto the table with his hand like he was groping for something, stopped when he found it, and turned his palm over. Then he made a disgusted face, gently turning his palm over again, and shook his head once more.

“He says it’s not the Year of the Maggot,” I told them.

Gunther glared over at Max, who gave him a beautiful soft smile in return. When he spoke he accented each word with vicious precision. “Tell that slant-eyed punk that one day I’m going to meet him when you’re not around with that scattergun to save his ass. Tell him that I’m going to make him polish my boots with his tongue. Tell him that.”

Max smiled even more sweetly. Taking the brass knuckles in his two hands, he rotated them against each other. His forearms looked like twisted ropes of heavy telephone cable, his face was flat-lips parted just enough to show a tiny gleam of white. His nostrils flared, his ears flattened against his head and the flesh moved away from his eyes. The deaf-mute gook had become the Mongol warrior lord as though the metal in his hands had flowed into his face and upper body. The brass knuckles resisted, then yielded, bending almost double in his grip.

Gunther’s face lost its blood, but he couldn’t look away from Max. I put the shotgun on the table butt-first toward Gunther, shoving it right into his hands. “Want to try this?” I leaned my chair back against the wall. A smell that you can find in the lobby of most any housing project suddenly filled the room. Gunther got up, backing away from the table and the shotgun as if they were radioactive. James slowly pushed his own chair back and walked over to Gunther. The shotgun and the brass knuckles lay untouched on the table.

“Don’t ever come back,” I told them. “Don’t ever think about coming back. I’ll call you at your number three nights from now, at six o’clock, and tell you if I’m interested in your deal. You understand?”

James mumbled yes and they walked out the door, his hand on Gunther’s arm.

Max and I sat there for a second, then got up to get away from the aroma. Max put his hands together and flicked them back and forth to show me he would clean up. I went over to the cab to get my cigarettes, lit two, and let them burn in the glass ashtray. Max came over, took one. He touched his hand to his heart to thank me for showing him respect by putting a loaded shotgun in the hands of his enemy. I made an it’s-nothing gesture to indicate that even with the shotgun Gunther was no match for him. Max drifted to the front of the warehouse to see if they might have some crazy idea about coming back. While he was out front I took up the shotgun and exchanged the blank shells inside it for some real ones in case they did.