“All right, show him out.”
The two men moved toward the Jap, who stood his ground quietly, his muscles seemingly completely relaxed, but there was something solid about the way he stood.
When the men were close to him, I said, “All right, Hashita, let’s win that bet.”
One of the men grabbed him by the shoulders and started to push him around.
I couldn’t see exactly what happened. The air got full of arms and legs. The Jap didn’t seem to exactly throw them. He juggled them, as though they’d been tenpins, and he was putting on a vaudeville exhibition in stage juggling.
The manager opened a drawer in his desk and reached inside.
One of the men sailed through the air with his head down and his feet up. He hit a picture on the wall in that position. The glass broke, and the man, the picture, and the frame hit the floor at the same time.
I made a grab for the manager’s arm.
The other man jerked a gun out of his pocket. From the corner of my eye, I saw what happened. Hashita grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm, swung his own body around, smacked his shoulder up under the other man’s armpit, jerked down on the guy’s arm — and threw him at the manager.
The guy hit the top of the desk and the manager and the manager’s gun all at the same time. The swivel chair gave way with a crash under the impact. The drawer splintered, and the men sprawled on the floor.