Excerpt:

The khaki employee came up suddenly from behind the counter and “Ahem-ed” in a snooty sort of way. Aitken turned his large frame and steely stare towards the bureaucratic business man and cleared his throat in a deeper rumble.
“Yes?”
“Well, sir. We, ah, found your credentials… satisfactory,” he fumbled.
“And?” replied Aitken, relishing the fact that his mono-syllabic answers in the form of questions were making the man squirm.
“You’re cleared for a large purchase, but I’ll have to check our stock in the back room,” said the driveller. “I’m not sure we have the thousand you want.”
“Over a thousand,” corrected Aitken. “I need a lot. I’m a bounty hunter. I need it for my job,” he said with a sturdy glare. “Get it quick,” he ordered, and then as an afterthought—“please.”