Resnick Tucker Resnick took an exquisite sip of his Chateau Jordi La Forge and reflected on his escape. After killing the doctor and the two guards, he killed his way to the nearest exit. But, that was only to be used in an emergency, so he had to kill his way to a different exit. Once on the street, Resnick killed a recommendation for a restaurant out of a bystander, then killed his way to it, a block and a half away. Sadly, there was a ninety-minute wait for a table, so Resnick killed his way up fourth street to a nice bistro and killed his way to a table near a window. Now was the time to pause and reflect.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that he had to find Mike Wistersheshenham because the danger of mission failure was obviously increasing. There was an obvious increase in risk, which resulted in an increase in obvious risk increases, although only incrementally and with great obviousness.
After the melee on the roof, Resnick surmised, Wistersheshenham would’ve escaped through the ventilation shafts and used the pipes in the parking garage to keep from crossing his own path. Resnick surmised that the two would argue bitterly on the trip while secretly falling desperately in love, because that is how those things are done. And, Mike would try to get her to a safe house. But, where?
A waiter brought a phone to Resnick’s table. “A call for you , sir”
“But, you don’t know my name”, countered Resnick, warily. The waiter sighed…
“Yes sir, but there’s only one patron here that is a ‘bat-shit insane killing machine’”
Resnick took the phone from the waiter and said, “That DOES sound like me. Good work”
After pausing for the waiter to leave, Resnick answered the phone, “Hello?”
“I GROW WEARY OF YOUR DELAYITUDE”
Resnick took the phone away from his ear and snapped, “Don’t shout, Glove. You AREN’T typing”
“I had a… setback”
“You have killed Mike Wistersheshenham and the girl less than you should have… hardly at all”
“I’m back on his trail, I just need—“ Resnick Tucker Resnick noticed the waiter standing by, “Yes?”
“Would you like to see the dessert tray?”, the waiter asked, blandly.
“Sure”, answered Resnick, “That would be nice” The waiter moved the high-backed chair at the table next to his and pointed,
“That’s it, over there”
Annoyed, Resnick pulled out his dictionary and grumbled, “I will kill you with—“
“STOP LOOKING UP MURDER WEAPONS”, the Glove shouted, “I am angry at your eptitudelessness”
“Your failitude is concerting me in a bad way”
“Are you trying to tell me that you are disappointed?”
“Yes”, the Glove replied, “That’s the word”
“Well, I am a hairsbreadth away from finding them and when I do… “ There was a pause on the other side of the connection, so Resnick continued, “I will murder them, of course”
“I’ll save you some time”, said the Glove, “I KNOW where they are. Go to 3201 Roadstreet Lane… just off Turnpike Highway. Your back up is already there”
“I work alone!”, Resnick snapped.
“Their job is to finish your job if you fail; they are two of the second-best men in the business”
“I’ll find them”, Resnick said sullenly, hanging up the phone.
Resnick left three twenties on the table to cover the meal, tip and the mess he’d made in the men’s room. When the waiter came back, he handed Resnick his credit card and asked, “Would you like a wet nap, sir?”
Resnick nodded. The waiter emptied a glass of water into his lap and said, “Sleep through THAT”
It would be the LAST time Resnick went to a theme restaurant based on old vaudeville routines.