 I'd figured this chump was good for $30,000, and now he's begging to give me $45,000. I could have told him that the bank in Havana would be efficient, unfortunately efficient for him. By Thursday afternoon, Stan Pierce, my fine, fat little Cleveland insurance man, has $46,000 bills in his pocket, one of them mine that I give to Jenny to give to him and the rest of them his, which would end up in my pocket $45,000.