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"I don't give a damn about your job, Johnson," Patricia says. "Yowza! That's cold!" Zack says, shivering. "My job is what pays my bills!" "You know perfectly well we're not about to turn the President of the United States into a murder suspect." "Why not? Its been done before... in fiction..." "Johnson, this is exactly the sort of recklessness I've advised you against while you're with us at the Bureau," Patricia glares. "My decision is final. In any case, we're done here for the day. I have a few leads I'm going to look into. You just make sure to get the autopsy report tomorrow and interview Porkington's family again." "Right. I'm all over it like a fly on horse$#!?," Zack says unenthusiastically. "God forbid you actually let me do anything useful." "Mark my words, Johnson, your adolescent attitude is going to get you in trouble one of these days," Patricia sighs.
Back at his apartment Zack takes out his aggressions on his punching bag, kicking it so hard it flies off its hook and across the room. "Stupid Patricia, always patronizing me... or should I say, Patricia-nizing me? heh heh heh..." "Arf?" asks Bucephalus, Zack's basset hound. "Don't worry, boy," Zack says, patting his head. "I'll get to the bottom of this Amy Brooks character, you mark my words." The announcer on TV is babbling "Lebanon is in flames! The Syrian Army has begun its thrust into Beirut to oppose the IDF as..." Zack turns off the TV and logs onto Internet Explorer. He Googles "Amy Brooks"...
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11/25/2006 12:45:00 PM
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