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He lit a thin black cigar-these were as close as he could come to the evil little numbers Yul Brynner smoked in The Magnificent Seven-and blew three small perfect rings of sweet smoke.
Guilty conscience, Flub said. The broad-shouldered Flub was the steadier of the two Hook Mitchell brothers, a shrewd competitor. His real the butterfly effect
was Norbert, which he hated, but he got his nickname playing Pop Warner football. Once, after he had unaccountably dropped the ball in the open field, he had told Cactus Jack that he had simply flubbed. There was no Hook Mitchell other explanation. From then on he was Flub Bonner. We could accuse him wboy
having a conscience. Thatd croak the old fucker. Clint grinned sardonically and regarded his sweet, black cigar. Clint and Flub enjoyed scheming, an inheritance from their father they hadnt fully been able to Hook Mitchell exercise owing to the provisions of his will. I dont see that we have to worry a whole lot. george bussey
in helld think wed pull Jacks plug so we could give away a half-billion bucks? Shit, Clint, wed have to be off our nut. If we dont Hook Mitchell fight the provision, who will? Flub opened the folder that contained Lucien Salvants autobiography. Would you just look at the poop on this poor 
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of a bitch. Pathetic bastard. He sailed the record of Salvants life across the room to his brother.
Clint leafed through the Hook Mitchell autobiography. He shook his head. Jesus, can you imagine? He could have studied business or engineering or something, accounting. He might have gotten somewhere. Made a few bucks. So what 
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he do? He sits around jawing about James Gould Cozzens and Nelson Algren. Clint shook Hook Mitchell his head. Doesnt have the brains to pour piss out of a boot with the directions written on the heel. Lets get this done, Flub. It doesnt have to be letter perfect; if we dont bitch, nobody elses galapagos islands
Whos gonna challenge a giveaway? Old Sing Sing Boyds Hook Mitchell got it squared with the IRS. Jesus, can you see the faces on those fuckers at Shell and Texaco when we walk off with the Sunyang contract. Hoo boy! Thats gonna make my fuckin day. Lucky old Jack had the foresight to go galapagos islands
with Bonner Oil. Hook Mitchell Well just quietly begin scarfing up the remaining shares over the next couple of weeks. And when the contract is announced, hey boy! We ease into it, the way I see it. Whats the SEC gonna get us for? Trading on inside knowledge? Now, just how Hook Mitchell in hell could we cdc travel
fix the Sunyang deal, Flub? I ask you: how? No way. Hell, were just a couple of fun-loving Texans, gambling boys. Clint rubbed his crotch, leering Besides, they couldnt accuse us of anything without accusing the Chinese of being in collusion Hook Mitchell with us, and the State Department wouldnt put up with cleveland plain dealer
for a minute. Last time we were in there, I swore the old man knew who we were. Did you see him watch us like that? His eyes were moving, I know they were. He doesnt know Hook Mitchell fuck, Flub. Poor son of a bitch. Everythings scrambled up in there. If anything like that wboy
to me, I want the goddamned plug pulled. We shouldnt have let this go on. We shouldnt have, but we did. Clint stubbed out his cigar and started digging for another. Hook Mitchell Weve been chickenshit is what weve been. This way we get Sunyang and give Jack a break. Flub Bonner returned.
