The Don ogles you silently for a moment, before a small smile appears on his face.

"Huh. You MIGHT do, after all. Well sit down, sit down. Let me explain.

Once you are all properly seated, he twirls his mustache and begins to speak in a lower tone.

"Now, let's say, just as a thought experiment, that I had ribbed up some coppers. Some of our jaspers packed the dope into town, their flivver got stopped, got 'nailed' for speedin', taken to the caboose for grilling, then lammed off. Except now the darb had been taken as 'evidence'. Evidence which breezed off the back of their boiler 'soon as they passed the corner next to our scatter. They got their kale, we got the jujus, duck soup and eggs in the coffee!

Then see, the flatties had a change of heart and decided to flimflamm us. Snook the tiger milk, pinched our java keister, and now they're the hammer and saws of the clubhouse. Now I mean to remind the highbinders that ain't no one buncoing some with the Don. Now I want you gunsels to take them bent cars over to the big house, give the buttons a harlem sunset or a loogan handshake, I ain't give a care as long as they're zotzed and the nose-candy's back in my flippers. Capisce?"


What will you do?

The Don smiles, then scribbles a commlink number on a piece of paper. Wait, REAL paper? Wow, this guy has money to spare.

"I'd rather we not meet directly while the heat is on you. Call me when you're done and we'll arrange a dropoff point."

He goes back to his newspaper, indicating the meeting is probably over.


What will you do?