Traveling, mostly. By now, I've visited nearly every country in the world.
And now you're back, working as my lawyer. I'm glad it's you, Quinn. I always felt I could trust you.
You can, Mr. Blank. That's why I was given the job. Because we go so far back together.
You have to get me out of here. I don't think I can take it anymore.
That won't be easy. So many charges have been filed against you, I'm drowning in paperwork. You have to be patient. I wish I could give you an answer, but I have no idea how long it will take to sort things out.
Charges? What kind of charges?
The whole gamut, I'm afraid. From criminal indifference to sexual molestation. From conspiracy to commit fraud to negligent homicide. From defamation of character to first-degree murder. Shall I go on?
But I'm innocent. I've never done any of those things.
That's a debatable point. It all depends on how you look at it.
And what happens if we lose?
The nature of the punishment is still open to question. One group is advocating clemency, an across-the-board pardon on every count. But others are out for blood. And not just one or two of them. There's a whole gang, and they're becoming more and more vociferous.
Blood. I don't understand. You mean blood as in death?
Instead of answering, Quinn reaches into the pocket of his black shirt and pulls out a piece of paper, which he then unfolds in order to share what is written on it with Mr. Blank.
There was a meeting just two hours ago, Quinn says. I don't want to scare you, but someone got up and actually proposed this as a possible solution. I quote: He shall be drawn through the streets to the place of his execution, there to be hanged and cut down alive, and his body shall be opened, his heart and bowels plucked out, and his privy members cut off and thrown into the fire before his eyes. Then his head shall be stricken off from his body, and his body shall be divided into four quarters, to be disposed of at our discretion.
Lovely, Mr. Blank sighs. And what gentle soul came up with that plan?
It doesn't matter, Quinn says. I just want you to get a sense of what we're dealing with. I'll fight for you to the bitter end, but we have to be realistic. The way it looks now, we're probably going to have to work out some compromises.
It was Flood, wasn't it? Mr. Blank asks. That odious little man who came in here and insulted me this morning.
No, as a matter of fact it wasn't Flood, but that doesn't mean he isn't a dangerous person. You were very wise to refuse his invitation to go to the park. Later on, we discovered that he'd concealed a knife in his jacket. Once he got you out of the room, he was planning to kill you.
Ah. I figured as much. That lousy, good-for-nothing piece of shit.
I know it's hard being cooped up in this room, but I would suggest you stay here, Mr. Blank. If someone else invites you out for a walk in the park, invent some excuse and say no.
So there really is a park?
Yes, there really is a park.
And the birds. Are they in my head, or can I really hear them?
What kind of birds?
Crows or seagulls, I can't tell which.
Seagulls.
Then we must be near the ocean.
You picked the spot yourself. In spite of everything that's been going on here, you've gathered us all in a beautiful place. I'm thankful to you for that.
Then why don't you let me see it? I can't even open the goddamned window.
It's for your own protection. You wanted to be on the top floor, but we can't take any chances, can we?