"All right, it's time to call the authorities." Crease says, pacing back and forth.
"Oh yeah. GREAT." Mother retorts dripping with sarcasm, looking up from the TV screen. "Now that we're accessories to espionage and murder."
"All the more reason to turn ourselves in now, while we can still cut a deal!"
"With what? We've got bupkis!" Mother started gesturing wildly around, flailing as usual. "We turn ourselves in now, we'll get twenty years in the electric chair!!"
Crease sighs. "You think I like it? Goddammit, I've got a family! But we have no other choice."
"Yes, we do," Bishop says. "We make the call, but we make it our way. Unload the van."
***
Twenty minutes later, Liz's apartment is pretty much buried in the guys' equipment, and... well. They made the call their way, but it didn't exactly work out.
"There's got to be a way to cut a deal with those guys," Mother says, leaving Carl to wonder when he picked up the optimism.
Crease shakes his head. "Too late. If we had the box, yes. Without it, no."
Carl sighs. "So let's get this frickin' thing!" (If asked, he'll probably chalk that up to adrenaline. God knows there's plenty of it in his system at the moment.)
"I don't know where it is," says Bishop, throwing his hands up in frustration.
Whistler, for his part, has a thoughtful expression. Coming to his feet, mentally running over his equipment here in the apartment, he says, "What did it sound like?"
Not that Bishop's paying much attention; he's busy protesting about being driven around in circles, and how it could've been anywhere. Another man would roll his eyes, but Whistler just raises his voice a little. "Bish, what did it sound like?"
"What?"
"The road. When you were in the trunk, what did the road sound like?"
"Well, I don't..." Bishop's voice trails off, then stops. "Highway. A regular highway."
There's a little smile on Whistler's face. "Did you go over any speed bumps? Gravel? How about a bridge?"
Comments 25
"Oh yeah. GREAT." Mother retorts dripping with sarcasm, looking up from the TV screen. "Now that we're accessories to espionage and murder."
"All the more reason to turn ourselves in now, while we can still cut a deal!"
"With what? We've got bupkis!" Mother started gesturing wildly around, flailing as usual. "We turn ourselves in now, we'll get twenty years in the electric chair!!"
Reply
"Yes, we do," Bishop says. "We make the call, but we make it our way. Unload the van."
***
Twenty minutes later, Liz's apartment is pretty much buried in the guys' equipment, and... well. They made the call their way, but it didn't exactly work out.
"There's got to be a way to cut a deal with those guys," Mother says, leaving Carl to wonder when he picked up the optimism.
Crease shakes his head. "Too late. If we had the box, yes. Without it, no."
Carl sighs. "So let's get this frickin' thing!" (If asked, he'll probably chalk that up to adrenaline. God knows there's plenty of it in his system at the moment.)
Reply
Whistler, for his part, has a thoughtful expression. Coming to his feet, mentally running over his equipment here in the apartment, he says, "What did it sound like?"
Not that Bishop's paying much attention; he's busy protesting about being driven around in circles, and how it could've been anywhere. Another man would roll his eyes, but Whistler just raises his voice a little. "Bish, what did it sound like?"
"What?"
"The road. When you were in the trunk, what did the road sound like?"
"Well, I don't..." Bishop's voice trails off, then stops. "Highway. A regular highway."
There's a little smile on Whistler's face. "Did you go over any speed bumps? Gravel? How about a bridge?"
"Bridge, yeah..."
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