In the hallway of a Doubletree Suites Hotel, somewhere in the United States...

Billy:  It's just a simple conversation between friends, nothing to 
worry your head about, right, Ryan?...Ryan!

Billy has to pop Ryan lightly on the arm, to get his attention.  Ryan
is closely examining a handheld video game, probably with an idea to
making it go boom somehow.

Ryan:  What?!  Yes..simple conversation, lass, nothing more.

Ed:  It's an ambush.  I won't be party to it.

Billy:  Now, girl, would I do that...

Ed:  Oh, please!

Billy:...with you right here?

Ed:  You had me tell him Terri was coming.  What else do you call it?

Ryan:  She was indisposed, Darlin.  We'll be givin' her apologies.

Billy:  Right.  Indisposed.

Ed:  What closet did you lock her in this time?

Billy:  Bedroom...Dammit, girl, get on in here!  Ryan...

Ryan:  Right behind you, Boy.

It's a typical Doubletree Suite, main room, bedroom and bath.  Ryan
and Billy each take a seat.  I pace like an animal.  Billy places
himself between me and the door, so making a break for is not an option.
I stop cold at the sound of a knock.  Short, sharp and decisive, the
very sound screams of Sam.  Billy nods at the door and, when I balk,
nudges me toward it with his foot.  I stumble to the door.

Ed:  Sam...Mr. Gerard, hi, it's an honor and a pleasure...

Sam:  Cut the shit, young lady.  Where are they?

Ed:  Where are who?

Sam:  Kid at the desk downstairs said you came in with two men.  Where
are they?

The only possible reply is to throw the door open wide, exposing 
Billy and Ryan.  I feel the temperature go up about five-hundred
degrees instantly, but my two cohorts are cool customers, indeed.

Ryan:  A pleasure, Samuel, a pleasure...

Sam:  Ryan Gaerity, explosives expert, terrorist, known murderer, 
politically undesirable...

Ryan:  Aw, now, you're makin' me blush.

Billy:  Hiya.

Sam:  And this must be the legendary Billy Strannix.

Billy waves, wearing a totally false bashful grin.

Sam:  So...where's Terri?

I consider this my cue and begin moving briskly through the
door.

Ed:  Well, I'll just leave you three to it and...

Sam places a neutral hand on my breastbone, to impede my 
progress.  Billy, in a rare spirit of co-operation unusual 
for him, reaches out to snag the back of my shirt.  He yanks me
back and I stumble over my feet to land beside Billy on the
couch.

Billy:  Take a load off, Baby.

Sam:  You didn't answer my question.  Where's Terri?

Ryan:  Indisposed.

Billy:  Home.

Ed:  Closet.

Sam:  What?

Billy:  Oh, hell, I didn't even tie her up all that tight.  She was out
on the balcony and shakin' her fist at me before I turned the corner,
so dial it back, there, Deputy...

Sam:  Dawg?

Billy:  You do know your name.  Damn!

Ryan:  You lost me, Boy.

Billy:  Saturday morning cartoons...

Ed:  The best.  We know.  Meep-meep. Billy.

Sam:  Make the best of this, I suppose.  So, girl, how'd your trip
end up?

Ed:  Fine, great, super.  Now, about this interview...

Billy:  She's always trippin, Sammy.

Ed (Holding up my hand):  Wanna see a fish?

Billy:  I know, perch.  

Billy and I give one another the appropriate gesture.  Ryan is
back to the video game.  With a tiny screwdriver he busies himself
removing the back of the toy.

Sam:  What're you up to?

Ryan (preoccupied):  Simple thirst for knowlegde, Boy.

Billy:  Yeah, he wants to know if that case'll hold enough C4 to blow
a hole through a...

Ryan:  Sssshh, Billy.  

Sam:  Your trip?

Billy:  Only trip you been on lately, Baby's the one to see Foltrigg.
That the one?

Sam:  That's the one.  Was the phone call any help?

Billy:  Phone call?  What the hell's he talkin about?

Ed:  Never mind...

Billy:  Now I know you pulled some shit on me.  Spit it out, girl.

Ryan:  Billy, Billy...gently, now, son.

Sam:  So it got you out of the police station?

Billy:  You called HIM??

Sam:  HE was your friend?

Ed:  Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

Billy:  I'd say so, wench.

Ryan glances up, reluctantly.
Ryan:  Now the two of you don't be upsettin' the lass.  She can't
help it she has friends both sides of the fence.

Sam:  I thought I told you to be honest with me.

Ed:  I was, Sam.  I didn't lie.  I said I had a friend with me.

Sam:  Friends like that, you don't need enemies.

Ed:  I couldn't very well say, now could I?  Look how you're reacting.

Sam:  You have a point.  Where do you know these mutts from?

Ed:  Billy and I met through Terri, and Jacque put Ryan on to me.  They
already knew each other.

Sam:  You know what I ought to do. don't you?

Billy:  You need probable cause, there, Barney Fife.

Sam:  You ARE probable cause, Strannix.

Ryan:  Boys, boys...we're here to find the common ground we all inhabit.
Let's talk like gentlemen, now.

Ryan chucks the videogame in the wastepaper basket.  It's been 
completely gutted.  I wonder how I'm supposed to tell the 10 year old
that his 101 Dalmations game has been sacrificed.

Ryan:  Sam, we brought you here because we're truly curious to know what
drives a man like yourself.

Sam:  Justice.

Billy:  Why do I feel this urge to stand up and salute?

Ed:  Because you forgot your Ritalin.  Hush.

Ryan:  Then we're not so very different.  Billy and I are also driven
by a need for justice.

Sam:  There's a difference between the justice you seem to want and the
kind I'm sworn to uphold, Gaerity.

Ryan:  So there is.  But as a motivator, it drives us all.  I seek 
justice for my people, Billy seeks justice for himself and you...you
seek it in its purest form.

Sam:  I won't argue that point. 

Ed:  Given that the three of you have all been the subject of films
starring Tommy Lee Jones...

Billy:  Here we go!

Ryan:  Let her finish.

Sam:  Shut your trap.

Ed:  Thank you.  At least there are a couple of gentlemen here.

Billy:  That doesn't hurt a bit, Baby.

Ed:  Anyway...I was wondering if you could each give me your impressions
of how you were protrayed.

Ryan:  Overall, first rate.  The accent was weak and the story foolish,
but for a Texan he did a creditable job.

Billy:  Not bad, I guess.  He didn't look as good as me.

Sam:  I'm happy with what I've seen.  He has tremendous dignity.  
And the boy can run.

Billy:  You ever thought of handin' in your badge?  They can't be
payin' you shit.  Work with me...

Sam:  It's not the money, Strannix.  And the only work I want to do
with you is hauling your sorry ass into jail.

Billy:  Here I am, Barn.  Come get me.

Ed:  Billy!

Billy and Sam stand up, giving each other the old hairy eyeball.
Sam has his hand under his coat, and Billy's reaching behind his back.
Ryan, who doesn't carry a gun, is watching them carefully.  Just as I
go to dive over the arm of the couch, they draw their weapons and stand,
with the barrels of their respective guns practically right up the other
one's nostril.  Sam's service pistol, the Glock 9mm, grazes Billy's chin
while Billy's latest toy, a Smith and Wesson .38, tickles the tip of
Sam's nose.



Ryan:  Put those away, now...

Sam:  You would have one of those nickle-plated sissy pistols.

Billy (defensively):  This is a good gun.  So it's nickle-plated.
Look at that jumped-up squirtgun of yours.

Sam:  Oh, hell.

Billy:  Damn.

Ryan:  Jesus wept!

Ed:  I think I made a mess.

I dart into the bathroom to check and see.  When I come out, the
room is empty save for a small jack-in-the-box.  I turn the crank until
the lid releases, and a hand with a Mickey Mouse glove on it pops out.
It holds a tightly folded note.  'Later for you, girl,' it says, and it
bears all three signatures.  I have the distinct feeling I haven't
heard the last of this.

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