The Commissioner straightened up slowly, glaring out from under thick grey eyebrows at Charlie Jingle's face.
"You think I'd pull that?"
"Goddam right you'd pull it! For all I know, you may even be working for Pugs, Inc."
Fight Commissioner Jergen rocked back on his heels as if he had just taken a blow between the eyes. He sank slowly into his chair, staring in stillborn amazement at Charlie Jingle.
"Wait a minute, Charlie. You mean to say—Listen, boy, what's happening to you? You know better than to say something like that to me!"
Charlie Jingle suddenly felt a hollowness in his stomach.
"I'm sorry, Jergen. I don't know what's the matter with me. This thing's got me sore. They got me goin', and there's nothin' I can do about it. I called the press. I told them that Pugs, Inc. and Tanker Bell had come to an agreement. I even quoted a fight date. I look in the papers the next day. Nothing! They got me sewed up tight. I come here as a last resort.... I'm sorry I shot off my mouth!"
Charlie Jingle turned and started out.
"Now wait a minute, Charlie...." Charlie Jingle turned. "You see, I know all about these kinds of deals in the game. Have known about them for years. But they keep me shut out because I can't prove anything. If you go to court as a witness, Pugs, Inc. will have fifteen other witnesses. They'll even have a taped recording of your conversation with them, which they juggle and splice to fit their purposes. You'll hear things coming off a tape which you damn well know you didn't say or mean. But you'll have to admit it's your voice; you were there, the other guys in the room were there—and they got you nailed. See what I mean? They're big business. They got it sewed."
"You mean there's nothing to do?"