Then Illio was hit by a spark of inspiration: he would offer Robbo the $180,000 and ask for an extension on the remainder.   Of course he would have to pay extra interest, perhaps to make the remainder up to $50,000.   But then he was going to be a millionaire in a week’s time (if he was still alive to collect on the land deal), so what was a lousy $30,000 extra to him?

If the offer was refused then Illio would die, but at least he could take two or three of them with him.

Illio knocked on the door marked “OFFICE”.   A small slit in the door slid open, then the gnarled face of one of the gunmen appeared and announced, “The Boss is in conference.   Wait in the hallway.”

Illio did as instructed and waited nervously outside the office, chewing mercilessly upon his already much mutilated fingernails.   He gazed around at the dirty brown walls of the hallway, barren of paintings or ornaments of any kind.   After a moment he rubbed lazily at the wall with one finger and the finger came away black.   Beneath a thick layer of years of grime, the wall was actually emerald green.

A few minutes later the door opened and an enormously fat man, in a dark brown suit and a bright yellow shirt, squeezed his way out of the office doorway.   He almost knocked Illio off his feet as he waddled past.

“You can come in now,” said the voice of the gunman, standing well back behind the partially opened door.

“Mumble mumble mumble,” said Robbo by way of greeting as Illio strode into the smoke-filled room.   Illio stood in front of the large desk until being waved to take a seat.

“The Boss says he’s very surprised to see you,” translated Leonard J. Parkes.

“Why?   Didn’t he think I’d pay up?” asked Illio.

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

Parkes, who had been employed by the thin man for so long that he no longer even had to stop to think about what his boss had said, immediately began translating, “He says the thought never crossed his mind.”

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

“It’s just that he’s surprised to see you so soon.”

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

“He thought you’d need the whole time to raise the money.”

‘So soon?   The whole time?’ thought Illio.   ‘What the Hell is this?’

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

“He says he’s feeling generous today, because he just cleaned up on a big investment.”

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

“So, since you’re so early he’s going to reduce the interest on your loan.”

Parkes turned to look at Robbo, who considered the reduction for a few moments.

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

Parkes translated as, “To $35,000.   Which –” scratching his chin while doing a quick mental calculation — “added to the capital, means you now owe the Boss $175,000.”

Illio’s right hand had been beneath his coat, cradling the cold butt of the magnum, ever since he had sat down.   The hand now moved to the thick wad of $100 notes in the inner pocket of his suit coat.   His head was still reeling as he handed over the money.   Parkes counted out the agreed sum then handed back the remaining $5,000.

“Mumble mumble mumble.”

“The Boss says if there’s nothing else, he’ll see you later.   He’s a very busy man, you know.”

“No, no, that’s all,” muttered Illio as he staggered to his feet.

*      *      *

Illio was still in a daze when he reached his apartment and collapsed onto his lumpy cot.   It wasn’t until the next day that it hit him, as Parkes’ words came back to him, “Very surprised to see you….”   “Surprised to see you so soon….”   “Thought you’d need the whole time to raise the money…”   “Since you’re so early…”   Of course!   Now he understood!   “I was right all along,” said Illio to himself.   “No one says four nights!   Not even that bloody hair-lipped Brando-clone.   The lispy freak must have said, ‘You’ve got a fortnight to pay’!”

THE END