(xviii.)

"So, I hear you didn't find this 'Lorelei' you've been chasing."
"...No, actually," Chet admitted, sorrowfully, into the pay phone.
"And how are we coping with this?"
"Um... well..."
"Yes?"
"I set one of my minions on fire."
"Say that again."

He sighed heavily, running his hand along the thick metal cord. "I set one of my minions on fire."
"You know I don't like hearing that..."
"I know..."
"'Minion' has such a negative connotation. Try 'employee', or maybe even 'underling'."
"It doesn't bother you that I set him on fire?"
"Why should it bother me? I'm sure you had your reasons."

Chet stammered, quietly, looking for something to say. "Well, yeah, I mean, they insisted that they had her, they had her, and then -- nothing. Abandoned car."

"Oh, I hate it when they do that."

"I- I'm sorry?"
"Y'know, when you think you have someone, your -- excuse me, your employees assure you that you have them, and then, poof! They're gone. Disappeared. And they turn up, three months later, behind the iron curtain, deep in the Soviet Union. I can't tell you how many Secretaries I've gone through."

"Right... y'know, Senator, I think that--"
"To continue this call, please insert an additional fifty cents into the slot. Or, hang up and dial again."
"Fuck!"

[chapter xix]