Temple-Tracy stared at the weapon. "It's a handgun, circa, I would say,
about 1925 Old Calendar. What in the world are you doing with it?"
Joe said, very slowly, "Chief, in the line you're in these days you
needa heavy around with wunna these. Otherwise, Chief, you're gunna wind
up in some gutter with a lotta holes in you. What I'm doin', I'm askin'
for a job. You need a good man knows how to handle wunna these, Chief."
Citizen Howard Temple-Tracy eyed him appraisingly. "Perhaps," he said,
"you are right at that. In the near future, I may well need an assistant
knowledgeable in the field of violence. Tell me more about yourself. You
surprise me considerably."
"Sure, Chief. It's kinda a long story, though. First off, I better tell
you you got some bad enemies, Chief. Two guys special, named Brett-James
and Doc Reston-Farrell. I think one of the first jobs I'm gunna hafta do
for you, Chief, is to give it to those two."