Deep Cover (31 page)

"Maxie, Maxie, Maxie. Don't have a fit, eh? They just want a statement. Something to throw to the wolves, you know."

Maxwell turned around and placed the phone receiver in its cradle, simultaneously depressing the speaker button. He then began to pace around the room like an anxious father-to-be.

"Maxie. You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Max walked over to a black leather punching bag which hung suspended from the ceiling by a chain wrapped around a steel beam. His massive hand gave it a murderous open-handed strike which seemed to shake the entire room.

"What the hell was that?" shouted Pompolous, barely audible above the sound of the bag's chains rattling against the beam.

"Just relieving some tension, Artie," said Maxwell. He continued to pace heavily back and forth, his girth making a thud with every step. Despite his cigar smoking and poor eating habits, Maxwell managed to keep his physique strong and youthful. He looked years younger than his true age, which the people around him could only guess to be around fifty.

"Well, if you're calm now, I hope I can talk to you about our problem," continued the public relations man. "We gotta handle this!"

"What you mean
we, White Man?"

"Come on, Maxie.
Just a statement for the press. What harm can that do?"

There was a long pause.

"Okay, Mr. Pompo. Here's your fucking statement. Tell the pricks that Mr. Maxwell sends his heartfelt sympathy to the families of the killer's victims. That he hopes the police will soon apprehend the maniac, blah blah blah blah blah, and so on and so forth." Maxwell stopped at the punching bag and threw a thunderous elbow strike. "Okay, Pompo?"

"Thank you, Maxie. Now, was that so hard?"

"Fuck you." The line went dead and Brian Maxwell returned to his desk and plopped into his chair. He picked the smouldering cigar out of the ashtray and began to puff furiously.
Idiots
, he thought.
They
should
only
know
.

He clasped his hands behind his head, leaned back, and placed his feet on the desk. Business had never been better. In fact, since the Wrestlemaniac had begun to receive all the press, ticket sales were up.
Heartfelt sympathy, sure.
A
couple
more
murders
and
we'll
need
to
build
bigger
arenas
. He chuckled at the thought. The Wrestlemaniac is probably the best thing that ever happened to wrestling. He began to laugh out loud.
All
the
way
to
the
bank
, he thought.
All
the
way
to
the
bank
.