alice, please?
your dog, alice. it and my appetite are mutually exclusive.
it's simple. he's been licking his asshole for three straight hours. i submit to you that there's nothing there worth more than an hour's attention, and i should think whatever he's attempting to dislodge is either gone for good or there to stay. *wouldn't you agree*?
hello?
who.  who is this?
charly?
god, it really is you!? chapter, they think you're dead, *everyone* thinks --
you don't know your name.
your full name.  is charlene elizabeth baltimore.
charly, don't talk, just listen: we have to meet, understand? we have to meet *right away*.
a former student.  is in trouble.
get in! both of you, now!
charly. jesus christ, i don't believe what i'm seeing, you're so *fat*.
what in god's hell have you been *eating*, you look positively bovine! hang on.
bulletproof. put it in myself.
charlene, darling --
yes, yes, you said that on the phone. *must* i point out to you that the letters in the name sam caine, when rearranged, spell out amnesiac? your mind was missing a name, so it simple invented one that was an anagram of your current condition.
dammit, charly. the schoolteacher, that was your cover! your memory was gone, you got confused and you bought your own cover. this ridiculous ohio housewife business, it's a fantasy, you *wrote* the bloody thing!
then quit. you're an assassin for the united states government. i ought to know, i trained you.
*the side windows were next, i swear*.
here, you might as well have one too.
three. one shoulder, one hip, and one right next to mr. wally -- where most patdowns never reveal it, as an agent is often reluctant to feel up another man's groin.
lucky bastard found the only cool car in the fucking midwest.
your father was in the british sis, assigned to the irish situation. after he was murdered in 1971, his friend perkins recruited you for chapter, a black bag operation working out of the u.s. state department.
fall, 1987: presidential orders come down. you're to flush out a terrorist by the name of daedalus. you never complete the mission, electing instead to die, of all things, despite clear orders to the contrary. and dead you remain until, without preamble, you re-emerge, eight years later and fifteen pounds heavier.
i think we can safely assume daedalus is aware of your resurrection and is attempting to reverse it. *damn*, i can't drive around in this thing. any idea where we can go to stash this car?
perhaps you'd best drive.
let me do it.
*no ambulance*. the car i ordered will be here soon.
i'm about to faint.  and if you call an ambulance, i will fucking kill you.
where's charly?
goddammit, i told you --
sod that.  just watch them.
checks. you're not fooling anyone, dear boy. you'd wash her feet and drink the water.  wouldn't you?
my star pupil.  that man in pennsylvania yesterday.  the one at the diner, that was hers, wasn't it?
i saw the news report, they found a shell casing a thousand yards away, helluva shot.
arms broker, man without a face. veteran of baader-meinhoff and the red brigades. he's rumored to be based in the u.s. doesn't travel much, they say. too afraid of metal detectors, the poor sod's got a foot- long piece of steel in his leg.
a pin, mr. henessey. a surgical pin.
you blithering idiot, the son of a bitch wasn't her lover, he was her target, he's daedalus!