Ace: "Damn, boss, that was some nice work you did."
Chris: "I thought so, too. Now keep an eye on her for me while I make my phone call."
Chris: "Mr. Stone? I have something of yours- one of your more recent investments -an artist by the name of Mary McMally...
I assure you, Mr. Stone, it's no joke. If you want her back alive I'll need a half a million dollars..."
Chris: "I wouldn't do that, Mr. Stone. The second I see a cop, she's dead...
How original. I'd have thought someone as rich as yourself would be able to afford better writers. You'll be getting another call from me- it's up to you to decide whether you want this to be easy or hard."
Chris: "She's been out long enough, wake her up for me and get
her in that chair."
Chris: "Why do you think you're here?"
Mary: "Mmm mmph mmmb bmmm."
Mary: "OW! What are you, a shrink or something? Is this the new
business plan? 'Assault and Abduction: making the transition from therapy as
a luxury to a need among your target audience.' I gotta tell you, it's good
in theory, but in practice I see a small problem in the area of name
Who the hell are you?"
Mary stared at her captor for as long as she could, but his icy gaze and indifferent silence sent a chill down her spine. After a few seconds she'd regained her composure enough to continue.
Mary: "Why do YOU think I'm here?"
Chris: "I know why you're here, love. You're here to contribute
to my cause."
Mary: "Great. You give PETA five dollars one time and before you
know it every terroristic charitable organization's got my name &
Mary: "No? So you're with the Red Cross, then? Look, I was
serious when I said I passed out cold the last time I gave. There was vomit
involved. It wasn't pretty."
Mary: "Closer? Look, I've only got the one kidney left, and my
liver's been useless ever since college, so let's just call it a draw,
Chris: "You're here to make a contribution to my bloody pocket
book. Now shut up."
Mary: "Well, Einstein, you could've made that transaction a hell of a lot easier if you'd picked up my purse along with my limp, unconscious
Chris: "Please. I know you don't have any money."
Chris: "You're an artist. At Andrew Stone's art gallery. Mr.
Stone owns this town, and he owns you. He's known for making good
investments. You may not be worth much as an asset, but I'm sure I'm asking
for less than half your worth as an investment. Mr. Stone buys you back at my
bargain basement price, and no harm's done."
Mary: "You do realize that as an artist, I'm probably worth much
more dead than alive? Why would Mr. Stone pay good money to get less in
return, when he could spend nothing and get even more?"
Chris: "...Good point."
Mary: “Although most murderers do get caught, so that's a lot more
risk for you. Actually, now that I think about it, that would give you all
the risk and none of the benefit. The rich get richer, the poor get...
Chris: “True. So do you think I should be asking him for more money to
off you? Enough to leave the country at least.”
Mary: “No, no. Because then there'd have to be a drop point for the
money, which means he'd know where you were, and instead of a suitcase full of cash you'd be getting a free police ride. And with my recently severed hand on your person, it would be pretty easy to convict.”
Chris: “Your recently severed hand?”
Mary: “Well sure, he'd want proof I was really dead after all.”
Chris: “Why not just a finger or two?”
Mary: “I don't know of anyone who's ever bled to death from losing a finger before. What kind of proof is that? At least with a hand, there's a reasonable chance that if you lied about putting a bullet through my head, I could still bleed to death from my injuries.”
Mary: “No, no, a head is way too bulky. Plus much more incriminating than a hand. And a foot would just be weird...”
Chris: “And even if you weren't dead, you'd never paint again!”
Mary: "See? You're catching on."
Chris:: "You're not thinking of leaving so soon are you, love?"
Chris: "We're just starting to get to know one another."