wrong with you Georges? Why are you so dirty and wet? Where’s the money?”

I stubbed my cigarette out on the corner of the desk.

“I didn’t make any. I didn’t sell the knives.”

“Well then where are they? I’ll do it myself.”

“I don’t have them.”

Franz was standing in the doorway like a scared puppy as Bernard stepped closer to me.

“I’m having a little trouble understanding you,” he said. “You didn’t sell the knives, but you don’t have the knives.”

“Correct.” I said. “You do understand.”

“Then where are the knives?” he yelled.

I stood up then so I was face to face with the monster.

“I gave them away.”

He look...

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