“Well?” demanded Jensen.
“I will play,” said Meek.
“And you really know about the game? You wasn’t kidding us?”
Meek looked at the men before him and the expression on their faces shaped his answer.
He gulped… gulped again. Then slowly nodded.
“Sure, I know about it,” he lied.
They didn’t look quite satisfied.
He glanced around, but there was no way of escape. He faced them again, back pressed against the wall.
He tried to make his voice light and breezy, but he couldn’t quite keep out the croak.
“Haven’t played it much in the last few years,” he said, “but back when I was a kid I was a ten-goal man.”