The young Caucasian man sat in his black metal chair, staring confidently across the table. The boss, a white-haired Chinese man, sat behind the desk in a black leather chair. Head on his hands, he studied the man in front of him wordlessly, meticulously; taking in every outstanding feature; every little crevice.

“Do you understand the requirements of this job? Have you weighed your options carefully; every detail; every card?” the boss asked quietly, yet menace rang through every syllable. The young man in the metal chair nodded eagerly; he did not catch the threat.

Suddenly, the boss stood up and went towards the wine cabinet behind the man. Opening the cabinet, he took out a bottle of 1986 Merlot. Next, he retrieved two wine glasses from the top cabinet and with his back against the Caucasian, he poured the out the wine.

Tasting the wine, the young Caucasian commented, “Excellent wine, Mr. Yu; first-rate.” Smiling, Mr. Yu nodded slightly, inviting the man to help himself to the bottle of wine sitting on the desk in between them. The man reached forward and poured himself a generous amount of red wine.

As he brought the wine to his lips, his hand suddenly released the glass, allowing it to spill and shatter of the carpeted floor. The man started jerking wildly. He toppled over the chair and he started foaming in the mouth. He eyes rolled about in their sockets as he struggled to breathe.

Mr. Yu sat calmly and looked, with the curiosity of a child on Christmas morning, at the man writhing on the ground in pain. He got up and went over to the man’s side. He bent down, putting his mouth to the dying man’s ear, he said, “You have a bad poker face, Mr. Hicks. I had all the cards in my hand.”

As the man faced his last seconds of life, Mr. Yu walked out the room coolly as if he had not just sent a man to his doom. At the doorway, Mr. Yu turned and said, “Oh yes, Mr. Hicks, I shall be awaiting payment from your solicitors for the stain on my priceless Arabian carpet.”