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.He did not, for a moment, believe that the client was some environmentalist nut who wanted the automakers dead because they were polluting the air.His bet would be that it was some kind of business rivalry, but it didn't matter.Not so long as he was being paid.It was the business of not being able to shoot any of them in the head that bothered him the most.The client should have known that head shots were the most certain.You could shoot a guy all afternoon in the chest and he might not die.The gunman had seen it himself, firsthand.It had been his first contract.The target was named Anthony "Big Nose" Senaro, a mastodon of a man who had cut into the don's numbers business in Brooklyn.Senaro had gotten word he was about to be hit and skipped to Chicago.The gunman had found him there, working as a laborer in the stockyards.He waited until Senaro was eating lunch one day, walked up to him and fired three shots into Big Nose's massive chest.Big Nose had let out a bull roar and charged him.He had fired his full clip at Senaro.There was blood everywhere but the big guy kept on coming, like a refrigerator on casters.The gunman ran and for an hour, Senaro had chased him around the stockyard.Finally Senaro cornered him, put his big fingers around the gunman's throat, and began to squeeze.Just as the gunman was about to black out, Senaro gave a mighty sigh and collapsed from loss of blood.The gunman scrambled away, losing a shoe to Big Nose's clutching hands.He never finished the hit.And Senaro eventually recuperated and went on to make a name for himself in Chicago.The don had been understanding of the gunman's failure."It is always difficult," Don Pietro had told him, "the first time, eh? The first time for everything is always an unhappy time.""I will get him next time," the gunman had assured Don Pietro, even though his stomach quaked at the thought of facing the big man again.Page 36ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"There will be no next time.Not for you and Big Nose.You are both lucky to live.Big Nose will not return to bother us but he has earned his life.And you, you have earned our respect.We will have much work for you."The other hits had gone down better.The gunman had made a name for himself too.Using head shots.That one restriction still bothered him.It was unprofessional.But the client was always right.At least for the time being.Drake Mangan was on a conference telephone call with James Revell, president of the General Auto Company, and Hubert Millis, head of American Autos."What are we going to do?" Revell said."That lunatic Lavallette has rescheduled his press conference for tomorrow and we're all invited.Do we go?"Millis said, "We've got to.We can't look like we're afraid of Lavallette and his damned mystery car.Freaking thing probably won't start anyway.""I don't know," Mangan said."I'm afraid someone will start pegging shots at us.""The security people will take care of that," Millis said."You know what sticks in my craw?""What's that?" said Mangan."At one time or another, Lavallette worked for all of us and every one of us fired him," Millis said."Damned right.The guy said to take the fins off the Cadillacs," Revell said."A damned moron.He deserved firing.""No," said Millis."We shouldn't have fired him.We should have killed the son of a bitch.Then we wouldn't be having all this grief."Mangan chuckled."Maybe it's not too late," he said."It's agreed then.Tomorrow, we'll all be at Lavallette's press conference."The other two men agreed and Mangan disconnected his conference call.He'd go, but he'd be damned if he'd go without the old Oriental.If the President of the United States said that the old gook could protect Mangan, well, that was good enough for Drake Mangan.What's-his-name.Chiun could accompany him anywhere.Except where he was going tonight.The old maniac had a way with labor relations, though.Drake Mangan had to admit that.After Mangan had evacuated the office, Chiun had decided he wanted something painted on the door [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.He did not, for a moment, believe that the client was some environmentalist nut who wanted the automakers dead because they were polluting the air.His bet would be that it was some kind of business rivalry, but it didn't matter.Not so long as he was being paid.It was the business of not being able to shoot any of them in the head that bothered him the most.The client should have known that head shots were the most certain.You could shoot a guy all afternoon in the chest and he might not die.The gunman had seen it himself, firsthand.It had been his first contract.The target was named Anthony "Big Nose" Senaro, a mastodon of a man who had cut into the don's numbers business in Brooklyn.Senaro had gotten word he was about to be hit and skipped to Chicago.The gunman had found him there, working as a laborer in the stockyards.He waited until Senaro was eating lunch one day, walked up to him and fired three shots into Big Nose's massive chest.Big Nose had let out a bull roar and charged him.He had fired his full clip at Senaro.There was blood everywhere but the big guy kept on coming, like a refrigerator on casters.The gunman ran and for an hour, Senaro had chased him around the stockyard.Finally Senaro cornered him, put his big fingers around the gunman's throat, and began to squeeze.Just as the gunman was about to black out, Senaro gave a mighty sigh and collapsed from loss of blood.The gunman scrambled away, losing a shoe to Big Nose's clutching hands.He never finished the hit.And Senaro eventually recuperated and went on to make a name for himself in Chicago.The don had been understanding of the gunman's failure."It is always difficult," Don Pietro had told him, "the first time, eh? The first time for everything is always an unhappy time.""I will get him next time," the gunman had assured Don Pietro, even though his stomach quaked at the thought of facing the big man again.Page 36ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"There will be no next time.Not for you and Big Nose.You are both lucky to live.Big Nose will not return to bother us but he has earned his life.And you, you have earned our respect.We will have much work for you."The other hits had gone down better.The gunman had made a name for himself too.Using head shots.That one restriction still bothered him.It was unprofessional.But the client was always right.At least for the time being.Drake Mangan was on a conference telephone call with James Revell, president of the General Auto Company, and Hubert Millis, head of American Autos."What are we going to do?" Revell said."That lunatic Lavallette has rescheduled his press conference for tomorrow and we're all invited.Do we go?"Millis said, "We've got to.We can't look like we're afraid of Lavallette and his damned mystery car.Freaking thing probably won't start anyway.""I don't know," Mangan said."I'm afraid someone will start pegging shots at us.""The security people will take care of that," Millis said."You know what sticks in my craw?""What's that?" said Mangan."At one time or another, Lavallette worked for all of us and every one of us fired him," Millis said."Damned right.The guy said to take the fins off the Cadillacs," Revell said."A damned moron.He deserved firing.""No," said Millis."We shouldn't have fired him.We should have killed the son of a bitch.Then we wouldn't be having all this grief."Mangan chuckled."Maybe it's not too late," he said."It's agreed then.Tomorrow, we'll all be at Lavallette's press conference."The other two men agreed and Mangan disconnected his conference call.He'd go, but he'd be damned if he'd go without the old Oriental.If the President of the United States said that the old gook could protect Mangan, well, that was good enough for Drake Mangan.What's-his-name.Chiun could accompany him anywhere.Except where he was going tonight.The old maniac had a way with labor relations, though.Drake Mangan had to admit that.After Mangan had evacuated the office, Chiun had decided he wanted something painted on the door [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]