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For now, the best option was to wait to see what the masked men wanted.
    “We know who you are, Leon.” The taller of the gunmen spoke first. He walked behind Leon, ramming the muzzle of the machinegun into the folds of fat on the back of his neck. “You’re a fat pimp with a penchant for teenage boys, but I bet your friends here don’t know about that, do they, eh, Leon?”
    All eyes turned to look at Leon. Despite the circumstances, this was a very surprising snippet of information. There were several eyebrows raised and the odd smirk around the table. Leon snarled and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t know what the gunman was talking about. Sweat trickled down his chubby cheeks. He did have a thing for teenage boys, but he had thought it was a closely guarded secret. Someone from his outfit was blabbing.
    “So you know who we are. Why don’t you tell us why you’re pointing Uzis at us, and then we can go back to our poker game?” Leon tried to recover some self-esteem.
    “I think you lost all your chips, didn’t you? Two pairs is a crap hand, Leon.” The men at the table laughed nervously. “What do we want? That is easy. We want the stake money in the floor safe under the poker table. Oh, and we’ll have the five kilos of cocaine stashed under the ice machine.” He waved the Uzi and herded the poker players out of their seats. “Move over there.”
    “You must be crazy men,” Jinx raised his hands as he spoke and a crooked grin crossed his face. He towered above the masked men but there was nothing to gain by becoming a dead hero for now. Jinx eyed the gangsters in the room, looking for any sign of recognition in their eyes.
    “This is an inside job.” Gus Rickman hissed. The gunmen knew where they held the stake money while the game was in progress. “Only people that have played with us before could know that.”
    “Shut up,” the gunmen snapped.
    “As for the five kilos of cocaine under the ice-machine, only Jessie and his men could possibly know that there are a shitload of drugs on the premises, eh, Jessie?”
    “Who else could know?” Jinx certainly didn’t know it was there until now.
    “Shut your mouth, Jinx,” the tall gunman waved his weapon. The skin under the mask was white around the eyes and there was a tinge of an accent in his voice, but Jinx couldn’t place it. He wasn’t black or foreign.
    “If you know who I am, then you know I will find you,” Jinx smiled again and walked away from the group at the table. “That’s what I do, find people who take money.”
    Dozens of his customers had gone into hiding when it was time for them to repay their loans, but Jinx would always find them. He used cutting-edge technology to track people. He put tracers onto customer’s vehicles or mobile phones before he handed over any cash loans. If they went into hiding, they had no idea that they had been bugged until Jinx knocked on their door.
    “All of you kneel down facing the wall. Put your hands behind your head and shut up.” The gunman ordered.
    The gangsters moved slowly to the wall and followed the gunman’s instructions. Jinx knelt down reluctantly. The nightclub manager knelt down next to Jinx. He was a big Welshman called Joseph James, or Jessie by his associates. He had a reputation for carrying a Smith and Wesson six-shooter like a cowboy, hence the nickname. Jessie moved in criminal circles and most of the faces in town used the nightclub as a drinking den. The club’s clientele consisted of the more dishonest members from all sections of the population. Jessie was well known and well liked, but everyone knew he was a puppet for a Turkish mob that had moved into the city five years prior. Five kilos of cocaine was way out of Jessie’s league. He was hiding it for the Turks. Jink looked at his face trying to get a reaction. Jessie shrugged at Jinx, shaking nervously.
    “Don’t look at me like that, Jinx,” Jessie whispered. “I’ve got fuck all to do with