Twenty-Six Years Ago - Klempner
“I think you’ll be pleased, sir. Would you like to inspect the first shipment?” Bech wears that expression of wax-faced smugness he’s so good at. “Or would you prefer to let me assign them?”
“I’ll take a look, Bech. Let’s see that we agree on the appropriate market for them.”
“This way.”
A group of a dozen or so men and women stands at the end of the room, guarded by a couple of Bech’s heavies. As I step through the door, one of them, a woman, breaks from the line, rushing up to me. She’s not bad looking, but she’s spoiled her face. Her eyes are swollen and red. Scrabbling at my chest, she whimpers….
Christ, you stink….
…. speaking with a heavy accent. “Please, sir, there is mistake.” She waves a piece of paper at me, much creased. “I come here to be
