Marc wasn't really interested in the precociousness of the younger generation. Not at a time like this. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. "Have you seen those ghoulish bags lately?" Toffee shook her head. "I think we've given them the slip. The cops, too. The last time I saw those two flatheaded flatfoots they were slobbering all over each other like a couple of rejected brides. I really think they've lost their reason. One of them was mumbling something about hurling the Chief into the Mayor's face, whatever that means." "Now what do we do?" Marc asked. "We're free, but we haven't a car any more." Toffee crooked a slender finger. "Follow me," she said. "There is madness in this method. But it'll still work." She led Marc around the block, back to the alley that had proved their one-way path to dilemma in the first place. Marc hung back. "What's the idea?" he asked. "The taxi," Toffee explained brightly. "The one the cops arrived in. It's the only transportation for miles that isn't all tied up. And it's just waiting for someone to come along and snag it." Marc shrugged wearily and followed without protest as Toffee crossed to the driver's window and stuck her head inside. "Is this car for hire?" she smiled. The driver, an open-faced fellow of obvious good will, smiled back. "I'm supposed to be waitin' here for a couple of cops, lady," he said. "They said I wasn't to leave till they told me. They said...." Suddenly he broke off, his eyes focused on Toffee's fiery red jersey. "Say! Ain't that one of Neopolitain High's sweat shirts you got on there?" Admiration grew in his face as Toffee nodded. "I gotta kid over at that school, lady. I bet you have too." Toffee maintained a discreet silence on this point. "Maybe you seen my kid play basketball sometime." Toffee looked at the driver closely. "Is he a tow-headed little devil with searching blue eyes?" she asked. "Could be, lady. Sounds like him. He's a real nice kid." Toffee's answering laugh was brief and bitter, but the driver didn't notice. He was busy opening the rear door. "Hop in!" he said grandly. "Anything for good old Neopolitain High!" Climbing into the cab, Toffee rubbed her thigh reflectively. "Yeah," she murmured. "Anything." * * * * * Marc and Toffee collaborated on a deep, heart-felt sigh of relief as the taxi backed out of the alley and onto the street. They didn't know, however, that the breath they were expending with such satisfaction was soon to be reclaimed in a horrified gasp. This curious phenomenon occurred only a moment later when the taxi slowed to a stop at the corner signal.