(xcv.)

Pierpont stabbed at the salad with his fork.

He was trying to ignore the fact that the middle prongs were bent backward.

The salad itself was relatively unappealing, with wilted, rusty lettice, and an altogether unidentifiable dressing that smelled like potato chips.

He pushed the salad away.

"Hey. It's you," Lorelei insisted, walking up the aisle toward him.
"You're okay! You're still alive!"
"Well, yeah, I mean--"
"He didn't find you again and try to shoot you again?"
"Nah," she said, waving the notion off with her usable hand.

She sat down in the booth opposite him.

"You got a salad?"
"Yeah, but, it, um--"
"--yeah."
"Yeah."

There was an awkward pause.

"So, what do you need me to do?" Pierpont asked.
"Well, short of killing Chet--"
"--I could do that."
"...no. No you couldn't."
"Yeah I could."
"Well, regardless, I need him, uh, distracted."
"Distracted?"
"It'd be nice."

He thought for a moment.

"When you say 'distracted'," he said, while making scare-quotes, "do you mean you want him dead, or do you just want him to arrest someone else?"

"You really want to kill him, don't you?"
"I think it'd be fun, yeah."

(xciv.)

"You! You, there! Look, I've told you everything I know. Can I go home now?"

The District Coordinator chuckled.

"Well... no. You can't."
"Why not?"

He thought it over for a moment.

"Because," he insisted, thoughtfully.

"That's it?" Muffy yelped, "'Because'?! You can't just hold me here--"
"Watch me."

He stormed back out of the interrogation room, and slumped downn in a nearby bench.

"Well?"
"Why are we keeping her here, anyway?"

Chet sighed.

"So... no Brandenbury, then?"

The District Coordinator shook his head, sorrowfully.

"Fair enough," he shrugged, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "We'll keep her here until her fiance shows up."

He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

"But that could take forever!" The District Coordinator whined.

Chet sighed. "Hey, if you hadn't fucked up and kidna-- excuse me, apprehended, the wrong person, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

(xciii.)

The little girl dutifully followed Mister Aisquith down the street.

"Hey Mister!"
"What do you want, little girl?"
"When you kill that guy, can I watch?"

He turned, and stared at her, incredulously.

"What?"
"Can I watch?"
"I, uh, you... you want to watch?"
"Well, yeah."
"Wh-why?"
"Are you gonna shoot him, like on TV?"
"Uh..."

The little girl giggled.

"Can I watch? Please please please?"
"And then I suppose you'll want to go out for ice cream afterward, right?"

The little girl's eyes lit up.

"Ooooh! We can get ice cream? I like chocolate! But vanilla's pretty cool too. Have you ever had pistachio? It's got things in it. Like, little nuts or something--"
"Yes. Pistachio nuts."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"And it's green!" She announced, cheerfully.

Mister Aisquith shook his head woefully.

"Little girl, where is your mother?"
"Oh, I dunno. Pro'lly at work."
"Shouldn't you be at home... doing, I don't know, something?"

The little girl just shrugged.

"So, can I come?"

Mister Aisquith sighed. "Fine. You can watch me kill him if you want. Just... don't get in the way. Okay?"

The little girl nodded, giddily.

(xcii.)

"Little girl, why are you following me?"

The little girl smiled. "I don't have any where I have to go today, but you do. And my mommy always takes me with her when she has somewhere to go--"

"Listen to me, little girl, I am about to kill someone. Do you understand? I am going to cause a man's death."

"Okay," she calmly replied.

"What do you mean, 'okay'? Have you ever seen a man die? Have you ever even been to a funeral?"
"No, but my mommy squashes bugs all the time. That's the same thing, right?"

Mister Aisquith sighed.

"No. Not at all."
"Well, why not?"
"Okay, look, go run along home to your mommy. I have to go to work--"
"Killing?"
"Yes. Killing."
"Who're you gonna kill?"
"A man who's trying to cheat the government out of taxes."
"Would you still kill him if he gave you the taxes?"
"I... uh, I don't know, actually."
"Why not?"
"Well, no one's ever tried to do it that way."
"Why not?"
"I- I don't know. I guess most people don't keep money on hand just incase they have to pay the guy that the IRS sent to kill them."
"Why not?"
"It's not really the kind of expense you plan for, really."
"Why not?"

Mister Aisquith shook his head. "Okay, y'know what? Enough. No more questions."

(xci.)

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"So... Muffy? Is that your name?" he asked, casually opening the pack and putting a cigarette into his mouth.

"It is Muffy, right?"

She nodded, meekly.

He leaned against the steel table, and tossed the cigarettes on the table in front of her.

"So, Muff -- you don't mind if I call you Muff, right? -- you're Pierpont's fiancée, I hear."

Again, she nodded.

"Okay. Good to know," he mumbled, as he rummaged through his pocket. "Listen, you wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

"Is he in trouble?"
"C'mon, Muff, just tell me where he is, and you can go home."
"I- I don't know."

Chet nodded. He pulled out a book of matches, and lit one.

"You think he might be with Lorelei?"

She shook her head. "I, uh, what? What do you mean?"

Chet chuckled. He lit his cigarette, and shook out the match.

"Well, y'know, since she's in trouble. And needs saving and shit."
"I, well, um, I wouldn't know."
"Did he say anything about it before he left?"
"He just- he sort of mumbled something--"
"That's all I needed to know."

Muffy shifted her weight.

"Can I go home now?"
"What? No, of course not."

(xc.)

"C'mon, c'mon, don't freak out on me, car," Pierpont mumbled, easing the car out of the bushes and onto the service road.

"Okay, just a couple more miles, car, just to--"

Deedilodo didilodo dadilodo ding.

He sighed, and reached for his cellphone.

Deedilodo didilodo dadilodo ding.

Deedilodo didilodo--

"Hullo?"
"Pierpont?"
"Yeah?"
"It- It's Lor."
"Yeah. Is everything okay?"
"Y-Yeah. I, um, I just, uh... I was gonna ask you the same question."

Pierpont thought for a moment.

"Well, yeah, everything's fine. I just careened off a hill, was all."
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah, no, it's cool. Car's in good shape. I'm almost in D.C."
"But- but, you--"
"Yeah, no, I'm fine."
"But--"
"It's cool. I'm almost there. So, I'll meet you there?"

Lorelei stammered.

"You-- you're okay, though? I mean, aside from the hill part? You're totally okay?"
"Well, yeah. Why?"
"Well, I just kinda got worried."

Pierpont chuckled.

"Yeah, no, it's cool. I'm fine. Just, uh, y'know what? Meet me at down at the place -- you know the one I mean."
"Oh- okay. Yeah. That place. Cool."

There was a click on the other end of the line.

Pierpont tossed the cellphone into the passenger side seat, and shook his head. "What the fuck was that about?"

(lxxxix.)

"So... what happened to your shoulder?"

Lorelei ran her other arm along the sling.

"Um... honestly?"
"Yeah."
"You remember Chet?"
"Um--"
"Okay, when you got arrested, the one that was in charge. And he was probably a total asshole."
"Oh, yeah, him. He hit me."
"Yeah. He shot me."
"Oh."

An uncomfortable silence filled the car.

"So, what happens now?" Midge asked.
"Well, where are we?"
"Um... right now?"
"Yeah."
"I don't actually know--"
"'Cause, if you want, we can circle back around to D.C. and meet up with Pierpont."
"Ooh! We'll get to meet the infamous Pierpont?"
"Yeah--"
"I thought you said he was in New York."

Lorelei sighed.

"Well, yeah, usually, but when I told him that Chet shot me, he said he was gonna come down and that he'd be here soon."

Midge nodded. "Okay, so--"
"But that was this morning. Like, early this morning. And he seemed pretty freaked out, like he was going to drive down immediately. But it doesn't take this long to drive from New York to D.C, so now I'm starting to get worried that maybe Chet was like--"

"Maybe Chet shot you to get to Pierpont," Frank suggested.
"Fuckin'--"
"Or maybe he, uh, y'know, got stuck in traffic," Midge added.

Lorelei slumped down in her seat, gingerly rubbing her bandaged shoulder. "Fuckin' A, man," she mumbled.

(lxxxviii.)

Pierpont hugged the steering wheel as the Killmaster careened across the highway sideways.

"OhGodohGodohGodIdon'twannadiepleasepleasepleaseIdon't--" he gasped, sobbing, "--Idon'twannadiedon'twannadie I don't want to die!"

The giant turquoise car crashed straight into the guardrail. It took a piece of the rail with it as it tumbled down the hill into the forest.

Pierpont sobbed uncontrollably, still holding on to the steering wheel.

The car uprooted a tree, and came to a stop on top of it.

He let go of the steering wheel. He sat back, and gasped for breath. "Holy crap," he blurted out. "Did I just-- did that--"

He leaned over, and looked up the side of the slope he just fell down.

He sighed, and rested his head against the steering wheel.

"Note to self," he whispered, "That little black lever isn't the turn signal."

(lxxxvii.)

The little girl looked up, inquisitively.

"Hey Mister! Are you going to a costume party?" She asked the strange man in the black robe.

Mister Aisquith stared at her. "No," he responded, sharply.

"Well, why are you wearing a big black robe and a hood if you're not going to a party?" She demanded.

Mister Aisquith chuckled.

"Little girl, do you know what 'taxes' are?"
"N-no. Not really."
"It's money that your mommy and daddy have to pay to the government."
"Why?"
"Because if they don't, people like me will come to your house and kill them in their sleep," he insisted.

The little girl turned away, briefly. Mister Aisquith began to walk away.

"There's a word for that!" The little girl cried. "My mommy says there's a word for that!"
"That's nice."
"She says it's called 'blackmail'."

Mister Aisquith nodded. "Perhaps. But if they don't pay their taxes, I'll still get to kill them."

The little girl stared at him, horrified.

"Are you on your way to kill someone now?"

He nodded, solemnly.

(lxxxvi.)

"What'd you do that for?" The District Coordinator demanded. He rubbed his shin. "It's not polite to kick people y'know."

"Mmrrrrrrfff!" Muffy screamed, trying to chew her way through the gag.

"What's that? You want to tell us where your fiance is?"
"Mrff! Mrrrrrrrfffrrrff," she mumbled, shaking her head.

The District Coordinator pulled the gag down out of her mouth. "Let's try that agai--"
"I don't know where he is!" she cried out.
"You don't."
"No."
"No idea whatsoever?"

She shook her head, and sniffled, meekly.

"He said he had something to take care of, and that he'd be back as soon as he could."
"But he didn't say where he was taking care of what it was he was taking care of?"

She sobbed.

"No."

There was an awkward silence.

From the front seat of the van, Louis called out, "So now what happens?"
"Just keep driving," the District Coordinator insisted, "I'll, uh, think of something."

The silence continued.

Suddenly, the District Coordinator blurted out, "He didn't say anything about someone named 'Lorelei', did he?"

"I thought we killed her!" Louis cried.
"No. She, um, didn't die that time."
"'Cause I know she got out of the truck. But didn't you say that Chet shot her?"
"Yeah."
"Well?"
"Well... she kinda wandered away. She might still be alive. I mean, he shot her pretty good, but we couldn't find her. So she might still be hiding somewhere."

He turned back toward Muffy. "So... Anything to do with Lorelei?"

She nodded, meekly.

(lxxxv.)

"M-Mister Aisquith?"

From behind the massive overstuffed executive chair, a voice bellowed, "What?"

"W-well, sir, there's a problem, sir," he stuttered.
"A problem?"
"Yes, sir."
"What hind of problem?"
"Well, sir, it, um, one of the corporations we were supposed to, er, audit, it seems, uh, they've d-declared bankrupty, sir."

The chair whirled around. In the dimly lit office, he could only barely make out the edges of Mister Aisquith's robe.

"Bankruptcy?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"Which corporation?"
"Th-the Omnivion Corporation."

Mister Aisquith shook his head.

"This won't do," he said, slowly. "This won't do at all."

(lxxxiv.)

The tiny silver convertible ambled along the road.

"So... does anyone else know where we are?" Midge asked, waving her hands and forearms toward the dark road before them.

Frank half-heartedly mumbled a "no"; Lorelei just shook her head.

"Any guesses, at least?"
"Well, which direction did we go?"
"Um... I dunno."
"It doesn't matter, because wherever we were, we aren't there anymore," Lorelei insisted, assuredly.

Midge ran her fingers along the steering wheel. "You know that doesn't help me any, right?"

Lorelei nodded.

"Okay. Good. Just so we're on the same page."