Mister Gretsky turned his head away from the acts of destruction takin place before him. It was bad enough that he had to hear the sounds of his shelves being smashed and his stock being hurled to the floor. But he did not have to see what was going on. All he had to do was close his eyes and the could pretend - for a while, at least - that it was not his problem.
"We don't like doing this," said a voice from behind him. "But we have a contract to honour - just like you do." The voice was neither harsh nor angry. Instead, it carried a note of disappointment. This, to Mister Gretsky, was worse.
"You see," the voice continued, "this means that you will have a fall in business. You will have to shut to make repairs. You will have to replace your stock. You will lose money. And that will not just hurt you, but your family and your customers as well."
The argument was reasonable. It was so reasonable that Mister Gretsky began to weep. How, he asked himself, could I have done such a foolish thing in the first place?
A firm hand took hold of Mister Gretsky's shoulder. "Here," the voice said. "Take this."
Mister Gretsky opened his eyes reluctantly. A scarred hand was holding out a white cotton handkerchief. "Thank you," Mister Gretsky replied. He took the handkerchief and dabbed his tears away. "Can we go somewhere else?"
"Of course."
Mister Gretsky pushed aside the beaded curtain that separated his private room from the rest of the shop. His chief tormentor - a heavy-set man in a dark grey suit - followed him through the door. "Is there anything I can do?" Mister Gretsky asked.
The man in the dark grey suit shook his head. "No. Nothing. But you can make sure that this does not happen again."
"What if I was to pay you to go away? I can give you money. Valuables? I have jewellery. You could stop your men and -."
"No." The suited man held up a hand. "Mister Gretsky, I have a contract. If we were to break our contract, than anarchy would reign." The man looked towards the chaos in the shop, then turned back to Mister Gretsky. "You understand?"
"So, there's nothing I can do to stop this?"
"No."
Mister Gretsky thought for a moment. "Perhaps," he said, and winced at the sound of wood being splintered, "I could make a contract with you?"
The man in the suit smiled. It was a professional smile, a smile that Mister Gretsky had seen used by lawyers and salesmen. "Perhaps you could."
