His score.And there she goes, with her pimped up Latino plaything.Fuck that.Jumping over the limp body of the hero bank guard, still leaking blood and...puke all over the sidewalk, Bill dialed his cell phone.Answer goddamit!"Hullo? What up?" Damn kid, always sleeping."Tony... wake up! It's Bill... fuckin' Maggie and Emilio ran with the score, you need to find out where they are. You hear me you lazy piece of shit? Now!"When he needed results, Bill got them.The two were easy to find, as it turned. Benson," he said coolly, "you have violated perhaps the most important rule we have in place for you. You accessed the Internet. What shall be done about that?" Sitting conspicuously on his desk was what appeared to be a combat knife, perhaps eight or nine inches long, housed in a leather sheath. Its presence detracted from the chumminess of this little kaffeeklatsch in a most objectionable manner.Eyeing the knife nervously, I explained myself. "I wasn't the one to access the Internet. My .... More

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