I was all shaken up. Don Gio had got me stuck tighter than a traffic jam in New York City on the Fourth of July. His two goons each pressed cold iron to the back of my head. If any help was on it's way, they'd be at least 10 minutes too late to do any good. Don Gio smiled in my direction.
"Well, it looks like our little friend here won't talk. We'll just have to up the ante a bit, hmmm?" Immediately I got a sinking feeling, like a cold iceberg during monsoon season. One of the goons walked to the side of the room and opened the door to a hidden safe. "I want you to see what's inside here," said the Don. "I think you might find it very interesting." He held up what looked to be a brass ring.
"So what?," I said, "Looks like a piece of junk to me." The shadow crossed over the Don's face, "I don't think you're in the postition to be smug, Mr. Patch. I'll have you know that this is the ancient ring of Kualbong Frons. It's easily worth more money than those fools at the Docking Station could ever imagine. With this much power in my hands, I'll never have to deal with those infernal beurocrats ever again!"
I've had heard enough. I quickly sprung into the air with an uppercut right at Goon #1's big mug. Within seconds, I had Goon #2 pinned to the ground out cold. That left just the Don. He charged at me, but 25 years on the street gives me better reflexes than any uptight business bruiser any day of the year. As I held him out over an open window, he started to grin.
"What's so funny, slick?" I asked. "You can't drop me," he smiled. "I still have the ring."
"Oh, you mean this old thing?" I said producing the ring from my pocket.
"But...but...that means the ring I have is...."
"A fake. Just a piece of junk, like I said."
"Then why even come here in the first place if you had it? Why get yourself caught and pretend to be helpless?," the Don gasped.
"Simple," I said. "I slept in a Holiday Inn last night."
Ethan:
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