Chap was repulsed by the self-titled ‘Mister Jones’. He wanted to reach across the desk, grab him by the scruff of the neck, physically drag him across the top of the desk, and crush the life out of him. It would mean no more to him than swatting a fly. “Oh, we are going to come to an arrangement alright,” he hissed. “Effective from today.”
Jones leaned back in his chair. A smug smile formed on his face. “Good. That’s why I’m here. I’m interested to hear your proposal.”
“It’s simple,” Chap shrugged. “I want you to back off.”
“What precisely do you mean, ‘back off’?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Too many people have been murdered by your lot. The killing stops and it stops now!”
With what seemed like genuine surprise, Jones responded, “Surely, Sergeant, you are not threatening me?”
