(xvii.)

"Sir! Sir, we found it!"

He nodded. "Good, good. I'm sure Senator Morton will be happy to know that we finally found her."

He turned, away from his lackeys. "They may be idiots," he thought, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, "but at least they know what they're doing. They are--"

"Sir!"

He sighed, heavily, and put a cigarette, in his mouth. "What?"
"Well, the, uh, the car's, been, um, abandoned."
"Abandoned?" He asked, calmly, flicking the cigarette lighter. The small flame seemed to eminate from his thumb.
"Y-yes, sir. They just left it, here, on the side of the road."

He growled. "What do I fucking pay you for?" He mumbled.

He flicked the cigarette lighter again.

"But, sir, we anticipated that they would--"
"They. Would. What?"
"W-well, we expected them t-to continue traveling west."
"You did?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"In the car that they've been traveling in, and chasing us around in, in circles, for the past two and a half weeks?"
"W-well, yes."

Chet sighed, heavily. He threw his cigarette to the ground, annoyedly.

"Let me ask you a question, Louis."
"Sir?"
"Have you met my friend?"
"Your... friend, sir?"

Again, he flicked the cigarette lighter. "I've had this lighter since I started working for the Commission. The Senator gave it to me."

He paused.

"Do you know what I use it for?"

Louis thought for a moment. "...Lighting cigarettes?"

Chet smiled, evilly. "That too," he declared.

He grabbed Louis by the front of his officially issued windbreaker, and flicked the lighter. "Mostly, I use it to vent my frustration," he explained, calmly, lighting the front of the jacket on fire.

As Louis scrambled to to pat out the flames, Chet pulled another cigarette out of his pocket. "Hold still," he demanded, "I can't light my cigarrette with you flapping around like that."


[chapter xviii]