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Author's note: Finally finished. It took days of edits and re-edits. The first draft of this part had too much exposition, so I had to cut it down. I don't like dialogue with huge amounts of plot explanations. That's what bad horror movies do. Unfortunately, the upcoming Part 6 needs exposition, so I apologize in advance. I'll still try to make it as competent as I think this one is. Enjoy.

Also, I love Pamila, but, damn, she is hard to write for.

Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 5.

"This isn't over!"

It is nighttime at The Shark Tank. The place is filled to capacity; there are literally no spare tables left in the dining area. There is not much room at the bar either. The music has been turned up high and the television has been turned off. It is just as well. Most television programs are occupied with the explosion at Imbroglio earlier this afternoon. Tonight, nobody cares. Bruno makes and serves the drinks while Casey keeps the food coming. He is also responsible for the loud music coming from the speakers.

At the center of the bar sits Winter, falling head-over-heels for another gin-and-egg creation. To her right, sitting on "Shiloh's chair," is Tivoli. The wolf is looking businesslike with her white blouse and a long, black skirt. The ocelot is wearing a plaid shirt and blue denim overalls. She looks like the least appealing being in the whole place. Both came in about an hour ago for an important talk, which is proving very difficult to attain.

Tivoli, having had her tail stepped on once, pulls it to her lap. "I know you like the drinks, but I don't see how you can really like it here."

Winter laughs. "Tail accidents happen just once in a million. You'll be fine."

She sighs in relief as her drink arrives. "I'm not worried. It's Wednesday night, and I'm not working. My life is staring over."

"Hey, don't get so excited. Don't forget, nobody's really agreed to anything. Shiloh may be talking to my superiors right now, but they still have to say yes. Until then, you won't be going anywhere."

"Hmm. That's too bad."

"How come?"

Tivoli finishes her drink. "I quit my job this afternoon." She exhales loudly, dreading the response.

"Why would you do that? Especially when you have nothing to fall back on."

"What can I say? I'm hopeful." She puts her glass down, then fiddles through her pockets for money. "So, is that all?"

"What?"

"The loan office where all that money is. You've told me what the people there really do, and you've told me how much money you've made so far-ten thousand dollars for three hits. That's nice. But you gotta tell me more than that."

"Well, what else do you want to know? I mean, I really can't tell you much unless you've been accepted."

"Well, is it an actual office? Do you guys give out loans?"

"It is a real office, yes. I don't give out any loans; I don't know that business. But there are people in there who do."

"The building's a cover!" Tivoli claps her hands with enthusiasm. "That's really good. But do you get customers?"

"Yes."

"And they don't know anything?"

"Nope." Winter swallows the egg left in her glass. "Don't ask me anything else. That's all the info you get without membership."

"Well...how many people work there?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? Stop asking questions. When I go home, I'll ask Shiloh what they said about you. If they say they'll see you, then we'll schedule a meeting."

Tivoli folds her arms on the bar and rests her head on them. "This is excitingly frustrating."

"Stop moping. You'll most likely be allowed in." She takes money out of her shirt pocket. "You know, if I had told Shiloh how you found us, you'd be dead by now. He's one of those who helps make sure our work is kept secret. He had the idea to plant extra seedlings around the parking lot. That was a couple of years ago. They've now grown big enough to pretty much hide the building from the streets."

"Thanks for not telling him that. Now that I know you better, I'd like to stay on your good side. There seem to be many rewards being on this side."

"Slow down. I don't like you enough yet."

"You don't?"

"Well, you're still blackmailing me, aren't you?"

"I am?"

"'If I'm not in, I'll call the police.' Remember?"

The ocelot laughs as she takes out her money. "I almost forgot about that."

"Well...." Winter is interrupted by a commotion at the front door to her right. Everyone in the bar turns to see that someone had just entered, bumping into a couple of patrons who were on their way out. After a few seconds, Winter resumes. "I'm not worried about you. I mean, it's not like you're ever gonna call the cops if I keep you close by."

Before Tivoli could answer, someone brushes up against her tail, scaring her off her seat. That someone, a male skunk, taps Winter's right shoulder. He gets the girls to look at the front door, where they see a dingo making a slashing motion, dragging his right index finger across his neck.

"Uh-oh."

Tivoli looks around her before sitting down. "What's that mean?"

"Police."

The ocelot's eyes pace the room before they rest at Winter's concerned face. "I swear, I didn't call anybody."

"Shh." Winter braces herself for what looks like an impending confrontation. She watches as the skunk snaps his fingers, getting the attention of the bartenders. He points to the front door, getting them to look at the dingo, who is still motioning vigorously.

Casey, who had just finished wiping down the bar, hangs his head. "Aw, Christ."

Bruno clears his throat. "Hey, keep your shirt on. Don't fly off the handle like you did last week."

Throughout The Shark Pit, anthros were quickly signaling to one another that the police were on their way. Seconds later, all of the talking dies down. The place is quiet, except for the music, which is now as low as possible while still being audible. Everyone tenses up, as if watching a horror movie. The bartenders look at the front door a little longer, seeing the dingo run out of the bar.

Tivoli taps Winter's shoulder. "Why is this a bad thing?"

Winter shakes her head. "Think about it, dummy."

The door opens slowly and two black Doberman Pinschers stroll in, scoping their surroundings before heading to the bar. Their cropped ears are sticking out of their baseball caps. They are wearing matching Polo shirts and tan khakis. They come in with their hands in their pockets, looking important and untouchable. The patrons in their way quickly stand aside and let them pass. There is an equal amount of hate and fear in the room. The dogs trade spiteful looks with some of the customers.

They stroll to the bar. One of them stands directly behind Winter. The other walks a few feet away, towards the pool tables to the right of the bartenders. Winter feels uncomfortable. She tries to adjust herself in her seat, then realizes that her tail is between the Doberman's legs. She looks up and clears her throat, backing up the eager dog.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am. I didn't know you were a ma'am." He takes off his baseball cap. "I always take my hat off in the presence of a lady, well that is, unless I'm in uniform." He does not move any further from his spot. Winter's tail is stuck.

Bruno was wiping a martini glass when they came in. He puts it down and looks at the intruder angrily. "What is it you want, Cliff?"

"Scotch and soda."

As Casey hurries to fill the order, he asks, "Aren't you on duty?"

"Not for twelve hours." Cliff places his cap on top of the bar, next to Winter's glass, then he rests his hands on the wolf's shoulders, making her more tense. "My new partner and I are gonna start working together for the first time. I just wanted him to see this place. Just like with my old partner, we'll probably be coming here a lot." His partner makes his way to the bar, adjusting his cap. Cliff smiles with gusto. "Say hello to Beast. His real name is Reynolds, but we call him Beast because of the amount he can bench press. He can also run the forty-yard dash in four and a half seconds, so he's pretty fast for his size. If anyone's running, he'll catch up to 'em."

Casey arrives to give Cliff his drink. He puts the scotch and soda in front of Winter. "There you go."

"So, Case, you given any thought to what I've said? Last week's offer still stands. We still needs guys like you. Hell, as good as we are, more bloodhounds on the force would make us really powerful."

"No thanks."

"Come on, man. With your natural ability, you should be working the beat, not tending bar. Your senses are gonna deteriorate in this dive."

The bulldog growls. "I can smell pig just fine."

Cliff scoffs. "Oof, you got me that time. Still, I won't give up." He picks up his drink, his left hand still holding on to Winter's left shoulder. "Here's to ya."

Beast sidles up to his partner. "So, why exactly are we here?"

Cliff swallows his scotch. "Tasty. Well, my friend, it's about time you learned the lesson. The rest of you, take note. About two years ago, our brethren up north had a breakthrough. There was a string of robberies up at Oakland and San Fran, with a couple of homicides thrown in. The police in those areas would follow up on tips and phone calls from the public. Most of those tips led to them searching 'furries-only' bars like this one. Funny thing was, nine times out of ten, they would find one or two suspects in those bars. The rate of successful arrests improved, crime started going down, and precincts everywhere in California started paying attention."

"So, our being here is a formality?"

"Pretty much. I mean, sure, it doesn't sound like good police work, but if it's successful up north, then we should do it too, right?"

Bruno clears his throat to get the attention of the Dobies. "So, let me get this straight. Anytime some asshole miles away breaks the law big-time, you're gonna just come here automatically?"

"Well, it's not like everyone in here is completely innocent, right?" Cliff still has his left hand on Winter's shoulder. "Now, let's take what happened this afternoon. It's a perfect example. You've heard, right? The Italian restaurant, Imbroglio. Their new patio? It blew up. Someone dropped off a package that went 'kablam.' Killed a whole bunch of people." Cliff stops to look at the faces surrounding him. Finding no response, he shrugs. "Now, as you imply Bruno, it's a ways away. However, it is still in our jurisdiction, and we are currently going through street camera footage of the event. I just thought if there's anyone here who knows about it, they'd come forward now. I mean, we don't have to--"

"Shut the hell up!" Bruno moves closer to Winter and stares into Cliff's eyes. "We don't know what you're talking about. There is not one customer in here that you can pin this on. Not one!"

"Hey, don't worry, tough guy. The suspect isn't one of you. Witnesses say that a lady in a red dress went across the barrier and dropped off a box to one of the patrons. We believe it was the box that exploded. No one here's a suspect...yet. We just wanted you all to know that this is a big problem that we are treating very seriously. Whoever did this is still out there, and we'll be patrolling all over LA to find him...or her."

"You touch one hair on the heads of any of my people, and you can forget about being served in this place ever again!"

Beast raises his hands. (He has really long arms.) "Relax. Nothing will happen to anyone here as long as you all cooperate."

Cliff picks up his baseball cap and backs away, releasing Winter from his grip. He notices the wolf's tail and almost trips. "Excuse me, ma'am." He turns to leave, but then turns back. He walks up to Winter and again puts a hand on her shoulder. "What about you ma'am? You know anything about what happened this afternoon?"

Winter is very angry, so it is surprising to see her so composed. "I don't watch the news much."

Cliff laughs. "Don't watch the news much? Some model citizen you are. You don't even pay attention to what goes on in your own community." He releases Winter again and yells, "People died in this explosion, folks! This is something you all have to pay attention to. We have to pay attention so we can help one another catch this bastard. Anyway, with or without your help, we're gonna do our work regardless." He turns back to Winter. "Tell me something. How come every time I'm here, you're here? Huh?"

Beast sighs. "Does ma'am have a name?"

"It doesn't matter. She's not a suspect. We're gonna go now. That is, unless you want a drink too."

"In this place I wouldn't even drink from the toilets."

As the Dobies turn to leave, Casey yells, "Good riddance!"

Cliff turns to face him. "I know that The Shark Pit has a reputation for scaring away potential human customers, but if our human partners come here looking for clues, I expect you all to show them some respect. Now, if you don't want to help us at all, that fine. But remember, anyone hiding something will be sniffed out!"

They make their way out the door. There is a collective sigh of relief from most of the customers. The noise returns and things slowly get back to normal. Bruno and Casey get back to work while Winter inspects her tail.

Tivoli shakes her head. "Wow. That was extreme. You okay?"

"I will be."

"Why didn't you pop him? I saw that you wanted to."

"Are you crazy? You can't give these guys an excuse to keep coming back here."

"They're gonna come back anyway."

Feeling nothing wrong, Winter flings her tail from her lap and stands. "Let's just go. Thanks for the drinks, Bruno."

They walk out of The Shark Pit and into the crowded night. Tivoli shields her face from the lights of oncoming cars. "Can I give you a ride?"

"No thanks. When I don't ride with Shiloh, I take the bus. There's more room for my tail there..."

[I have been moved again. This time, I am in a typical-looking hospital ward. It is Monday. Six p.m. I awake to see my dad and a nurse talking about me. Once I get their attention, she starts to ask me the usual recovery questions. It turns out that I have just received a new kidney, and so far it is working fine....]

[After four hours of dealing with the pain and trying to keep down "dinner," dad leaves and I start to contemplate the dreams I have been having. These are my first recurring dreams ever; they have lasted a week. The first few days, they were nothing but dreams of murders, mostly committed by the female furry characters. I ignored the first dream as nothing, but the next four days, the dreams ended with the one called Shiloh killing someone in a gruesome way. Try to never wake up to that. Anyway, I remember that I was contemplating seeing a shrink, when the call came. A kidney was ready. Next thing I know, here I am.]

[I start thinking about the girls in my dreams. There are four of them that I see regularly. I'd like to think that they're pretty hot, but they keep killing people, so I can never really see them that way. Winter's size kind of changes in between dreams, but she's the tallest of the girls. Camille is a party girl, and I happen to like cats, so she's the most tolerable of the bunch. Pamila is crazy. She reminds me of my ex. And then, there's the fourth girl. I haven't seen her in a while.]

[It seems I have forgotten who the fourth girl is. I've seen her just twice and she's really pretty, but I just can't remember. Tivoli is new to me. She is not that fourth girl I'm trying to remember. However, if she ends up killing someone, then that'll mean that she's been accepted. She's got the same name as my ex's home city. This is too much information to take on at once. I decide to slow down and rest. I'm still trying to remember who the missing female furry is. I think her name is in Japanese or something...]

The television at the Rapid Recovery Loan Office is located at the left side of the front door, stuck in a corner across from the front desk. The time, as pasted on the bottom right of the television screen, is 9:05. This morning, the local news is fixated on the commotion at the Imbroglio patio. The restaurant is closed. It is still crawling with business people, but of a different part of the work force. Law enforcement officials, police, detectives, and the like, are shown swarming the restaurant and nearby streets.

Huddled in front of the wall-mounted big screen are some of the building's "workers," each one with a seemingly vital stake in the news. They were satisfied with it being a normal news day, until they heard the newsman say, "Mr. Cam Morris...." Then everyone started paying attention. Most of them are looking on stoically, but a few are watching with held breaths.

The news at Imbroglio is grim. Five people, including Morris, confirmed dead. Seventeen people, including two employers, injured. The total damage is just below six figures, but since the explosion was big enough to damage surrounding property, the price could still go up. Two nearby roads are closed, helping to drive people away from the surrounding businesses. The bombing has caused rush-hour traffic jams. By trying to kill one, Camille and Pamila have hurt thousands.

(There are about fifteen anthros huddled around the television. There are mostly dogs, but many species are represented. There are no females in the group; I'm thinking this will be my first males-only adventure.) The killers look on as the work done by one of their own is criticized, analyzed, and condemned by reporters. One of the workers, a gray wolf like Shiloh, but not as tall, has his hands clasped, like he is praying. "I know some people who work at that place," he says. Everyone else looks at him like he spoke a foreign language.

They hear a noise behind them. It sounds like a sharp squealing, the kind of noise an opening door makes. In unison, they turn to the front door. Pamila has just entered. She looks around slowly, taking in the partially empty atmosphere. She sniffs. "Well, it smells more like wet dog than usual." She turns to her left and gets startled by the faces staring at her. She is slowly pushed into the room by Camille, who closes the door behind her. Neither of them looks ready for any kind of job. With her plaid shirt and green camo shorts, Pamila looks like she's about to go hiking. Camille is wearing a blue track suit, as if she has just come from a run. Her fur definitely makes her look like she has been running from something.

The boys in the room watch the girls carefully. The two groups stand there, staring at each other for a couple of minutes. Pamila, as cocksure as she normally is, has this stunned look on her face. "What?"

The gray wolf turns off the television. "Guys, we gotta go. It's way past nine."

With that, the crowd starts to disappear. Those leaving the building pass the girls, mumbling curses under their breaths. Pamila starts to relax, then smile. She moves toward the television. "So, what's on?"

After the crowd clears, there are five males left in the room. The gray wolf, a German Shepherd, the black terrier Inverness, and two red foxes remain. The foxes go to the middle of the room and start taking some chairs away. Inverness goes to the front desk to clear the mess of papers.

The wolf walks up to the girls. "You two all right?" He puts a hand on Camille's shoulder.

The cat responds, "We'll be fine."

The German shepherd yells, "I knew I should have been the one to take the Cam Morris job."

"Just shut up." Pamila turns the television on.

"Screw you! When I do my work, I do it quick and clean. I don't blow up half the city. You're in a lot of trouble right now, so you don't have the right to be giving orders to anybody."

"Get bent." She continues to stare at the television, not looking at who she is talking to.

Camille steps in front of the dog. "Does the chief know?"

"Everyone knows! All our human bosses know. Your friend is in deep shit here. She's killed a bunch of people to get to one man, and if the police get it right, everyone in here is going to jail."

The wolf nods. "Her methods did seem a bit...excessive."

"Hey!" Pamila turns to face her accusers. "You see the news up there?" She points to the screen, still showing the news of the bombing. "You see my name up there? If you don't, then you don't have to keep bitching. We're perfectly safe. The police don't know shit."

(Inverness is back from whatever hole he crawled out of. Unlike last time he was here, now he looks a bit more humbled. Usually, he would jump on Pamila's throat like the other dog just did. Speaking of which, the German Shepherd's name is Hoeness, so he really is German. He is surly and temperamental, but he is very smart, so he has much pull among the workers. The gray wolf is St. Croix. At six-foot-two, he is three inches shorter than Shiloh. While Winter's boyfriend is the stuff of nightmares, St. Croix is a calmer, more soothing presence. He is instantly likeable, so he could be the nicest killer anyone could ever meet. As for the red foxes, they aren't too important at the moment.)

Pamila looks defiant as she watches the aftermath of her hit on Mr. Morris. Camille stands next to her, not as sure. The fox shakes her head in astonishment. "That may not be my best work, but the job got done."

Hoeness scoffs. "After what you did, will the client even pay you? Did he want four people to die along with your mark?"

St. Croix looks on with sadness in his eyes. "With the sudden police involvement, it'll make it very hard for us to escape heavy scrutiny."

Pamila chuckles. "Nothing that happens there will come back to us, okay?" She turns to look at the men in the room, each one staring at the girls with different levels of scorn and shame. "You all worry too much."

Inverness looks at the watch on his left wrist. "Look, this office officially opened ten minutes ago. We have to go."

"Fine. Just let me go to the conference room for my money and my next job, and I'll be out of here." She passes Hoeness. "Don't worry, Shep. There's nothing wrong with making a little splash every now and then."

"That was not a little splash! You don't leave signatures when you're doing this kind of work!"

"Don't worry. If I want a half-assed job done, I'll call you to do it!"

Camille steps in between the two. "Can we please just...." She stops as they hear a door opening from deep inside the hallway. As they wait to see who is coming to meet them, Pamila walks toward the front desk, separating herself from the German Shepherd.

From the hallway emerges a human male. He is light-skinned, of average height, and has a head of bright, red hair. He is shorter than most of the killers in the building, but he doesn't look intimidated. Even though he is wearing the typical business shirt, necktie, and slacks, his face looks really youthful. He looks like a teenager wearing an old man's clothes. He steps into the lobby. "Is she here?"

Hoeness points a thumb behind him, showing the young man where the girls are. While the German Shepherd stays to watch the proceedings, St. Croix helps the other foxes carry some chairs out of the lobby. They disappear through the hallway. (From what I've seen, St. Croix tries to avoid trouble whenever possible. That is completely different from Shiloh, who looks for it head on.)

"Would you mind telling me what the fuck you did Wednesday afternoon?" He approaches Pamila until they are standing nose-to-nose.

She is still smiling demurely. "And good morning to you too, Colin. Did you sleep well?" Behind her, Camille looks on nervously.

"What's so good about it? You've ruined everything."

She clicks her tongue. "Such a drama queen. It just so happens that, if you take a quick look behind my feline friend over there, you'll see what the news people are saying. There is one suspect, and she is not me."

"The suspect is Mr. Morris' secretary," says Camille. "I was there with Pam when it blew."

Colin is overwhelmed with anger. He points to the cat. "Go turn that shit off."

"Hey, take it easy, big boy!" The fox steps in between them. "You're angry at me, not her."

The human can hear Hoeness trying, without much success, to hide a chuckle. Instead of turning and yelling at the dog, he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. "The news stations are not supposed to be covering the story at all. What happened out there?"

"Nothing more than what you heard. That fat fuck opened the box, right there in front of the people he was eating with. I thought he was gonna take it home and open it there, like I expected him to."

"Why not do it quietly? Why didn't you just go to his house and finish him off over there?"

"There was no other way to reach him," Camille says. "The Morrises live in a gated community quite far from here. There are cameras at the front gate of their house. We can't go near--"

"I told you to turn off the television!" Colin tries to keep both of the girls in his sights. "At least change the channel so the customers don't see the bad news."

"Quit acting like a bitch!" Pam moves closer to her opponent. "The job's done. This yelling at me is not doing you any good. And it's only pissing me off." She walks past him as Camille extinguishes the television.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"To get paid."

"No you're not. No one's paying you today. We've all agreed--all the executives."

"What the fuck?!"

"You're not getting paid for shit work. Especially if it could come back to bite us. The person who wanted Mr. Morris dead says she's still gonna pay us, but we're keeping the money. You're not getting a penny."

This turns Pamila around. She walks back to face Colin. Hoeness turns his face away from them, trying to hide his laugh. He sees St. Croix and the two other foxes peeking from the hallway and laughs harder. For her part, Camille is just standing by the television, looking dumbfounded.

"So you're gonna take my money just like that?"

"Dumb bitch. It's never your money until you actually have it. Until you actually earn it. You're not getting anything today." He stands defiant as her muzzle presses against his nose.

"And is that what you bitches decided? You're all gonna shit on two weeks of hard work just like that?"

"Your methods are yours and we all know that. A better hit man would have spent more time trying to do things the right way." He turns away from Pamila to see other stragglers. "I passed Inverness at the hall while I was coming here. The rest of you should be out of here too. I'll stay at the front desk to greet the customers. Let's go! It's 9:15."

Camille approaches her friend and tries to drag her away from the fight. "Don't worry about this. We'll just come back in the evening and talk to all the bosses. Don't worry about it."

The girls start to walk toward the door. Pamila shouts, "This isn't over! Sawed-off, little rat."

Colin folds his arms. "Whenever it is you come back to talk to me, I hope you remember that you're speaking to a superior. Your superior." He turns toward the desk. Now they are not facing each other. The room begins to clear.

"You wanna know what I really think about you?"

"Whatever."

Suddenly, Pamila peels away from Camille and runs to Colin. She rams her shoulder into his back, smashing him into the front desk. His sternum hits the front edge and he goes down, shouting in pain. He does not even get a chance to defend himself as she pounces on him and begins throwing fists. A couple of right hands find their mark, directly at his nose. Then, while choking him with her left hand, she digs her right-hand claws into the side of his face. She grits her teeth while he screams louder.

All of that took about five seconds before anyone could get to her. Camille is the first to get there, but is knocked down by Hoeness. The German Shepherd wraps his arms around Pam's mid-section and pulls her away from Colin; not a good idea considering that she still had her claws in him. St. Croix joins in. Soon he and Hoeness are on either side of the fox, pulling her away from the beaten young human.

They drag her toward the door, while she looks at what she did. Camille slowly stands up, rubbing her back. She goes to St. Croix and whispers something in his ear. He nods and releases his grip on Pamila. He pats Hoeness on the pack, and the dog releases her too. The foxes stand over Colin, stuck on what to do with him.

Suddenly, someone comes out from the hallway, catching everyone by surprise. Another human, wearing more casual clothing. He sees Colin struggling, then turns to his left to see the females. Without thinking about it, he knows who the culprit is. He points at Pamila. "You. Out. Wait for me at the parking lot." He is calm as well as firm. "Someone help him up."

The foxes obey and slowly try to lift Colin. Hoeness and St. Croix stand by, watching him struggle. Pamila also obeys; she is not remorseful, but she is less angry as she walks out the door. After looking at the men for a few seconds, Camille tries to leave too.

"No you don't!"

Nervous, the cat turns around. She tries to smile. "Simon. Good...morning."

He looks at her angrily. He looks like he is thinking about yelling at her. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I'm allowing you to make the first move. I mean, aren't you gonna defend her actions this time? Or are you just gonna stand there, looking stupid?"

Camille looks at the floor. "It shouldn't have happened. But it wasn't totally her fault! She was provoked. He called her things. He threatened not to pay her for the job. How else could she have reacted?"

"We're not paying her at all. The explosion has attracted too much press, and she's now maimed an executive. She is so out of favor from everyone in the office, it's a wonder she still works here!" He catches his breath.

The cat looks at him with fear. "What are you gonna do?"

"I don't have time to do anything. People are coming! I gotta take over the front desk, and you gotta get out of sight. Take the back door. I don't want to...." St. Croix is poking his shoulder. "What do you want?"

The wolf clears his throat. "We have a small problem." He points to the floor behind him. He is pointing at a trail of blood left from the fight. It starts from where Colin's body had been taken away. It snakes across the floor and to the entrance. Considering the size of the room, that is a long trail.

Simon runs his left hand through his auburn hair. "Perfect! What a perfect way to start the business day! The customers come in, see this, then run away! Maybe someone calls the authorities!"

"Can we hide this somehow?"

"We don't have time!" He looks around and sees Camille still standing behind him. "You go to the conference room and get help." He turns to Hoeness. "You help St. Croix move all of the chairs and the front desk. We have to get the carpet out of here. The entire thing. I'm gonna try to get the customers to go through the back door."

While everyone scatters, Simon quickly leaves the lobby through the front door. He looks around to see an empty parking lot. No cars, no guests. He sighs heavily as he runs to the backyard. This is where the bigger parking lot is. He sees Pamila all by herself, arms folded, leaning against a white car, presumably hers. He quickly walks to her.

"Simon, I'm...." She holds up her hands as if being robbed. "If you were there, you would have done what I did."

"Are you talking about the bombing or the fight? No, I would not have done either of those. What is wrong with you?"

Before she can answer, the sound of approaching cars gets their attention. They are about to park themselves at the front of the building.

"Go home, Pam."

"What?"

"Go home. Serious shit is about to happen, as far as the customers and the business are concerned. You cannot be here right now. Just take the rest of the day off. I'll call you later tonight. Don't worry about Camille, don't worry about anything. Just go."

As Simon runs to the front, Pamila asks, "How is he?"

"What do you care? You got what you wanted...."