George merely looked baffled at this. "Where are we goin'?" he asked. "To an accident," Toffee said. George's face brightened. "Was Marc in it?" he asked. "It hasn't happened yet," Toffee explained. "We're going to be in it, you and I. In fact, we're the whole accident." "Huh?" George said, edging up a bit. "Us?" "That's right," Toffee nodded. "They figure we know too much." "Too much about what?" "About this subversive business," Toffee said. "They think we know their plan to overthrow the government." "So they're going to kill us in an accident?" "Uh-huh." "Aren't you scared?" Toffee shrugged. "Why should I be? I'm a product of Marc's mind. I can't possibly be destroyed unless he is. And he's perfectly safe." "He is?" George said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Why don't these people want to kill him?" "They think they are killing him," Toffee said. "They think you're Marc. In fact they believe you're already dead." "What!" George cried. "You mean I'm acting as a decoy to save Marc's life?" Toffee nodded smugly. "Some onions, eh, George?" "Stop the car!" George shouted. "Let me out!" "No brakes," Toffee said. She nodded toward the limousine. "Besides, they won't let me. You'd better get down in the seat or they'll think it's funny." "I hope they do," George said sullenly. "I hope they think it's funny as hell and do something about it. It's so damned unfair." And with that he leaned across Toffee, jutted his head out the window and began baying in the direction of the limousine. "Stop that!" Toffee said. "It sounds awful." * * * * * George swiveled his frightful head around in her direction. "It should," he said. "It's the _Torment Lament_. I learned it in the Moaning Chorus and it's guaranteed to drive you mad in nothing flat." He turned back to the night and the limousine and sent his voice wailing into the wind. It was an effort that was not lost on its audience. The occupants of the limousine looked around sharply with horrified eyes. "Jesus in Heaven!" the thug gasped. At his side the congressman was so taken with the fearsome recital that he completely forgot he was driving. As the car careened dangerously, the thug reached out and pulled the wheel. "Isn't it awful, boss?" he breathed. "Awful doesn't begin to tell it," the congressman choked. "It's--it's _awful_!" "Yeah. That's what I mean to say." "How can anything sound like that?" the congressman asked hauntedly. "If it can look like that," the thug said, "I guess it shouldn't have no trouble soundin' like that." "And look at that girl, will you? She's actually talking to the filthy thing." "She looks plenty hot under the collar." "Why not? I'd be sore as hell myself." "When do we get to the curve, boss?" "I don't know," the congressman said. "But I can't wait. The sooner that car crashes and takes that frightful thing with it the better." * * * * *