"I'm working for Theresa," Madison said, then lit one of the bent Lucky Strikes that had probably been manufactured in the 40s. He inhaled deeply, coughed uncontrollably for about 20 seconds and said through clenched teeth "museum quality." He sat down on the bed and said "Argent's ok. He just pulled a disappearing act. Took out half the 401 K, packed his bags, left for work one morning and never came back. Theresa's his wife, a real trooper that really gives a damn about him." Madison took another pull on the Lucky and exhaled saying "wow...wonder what that's like." Outside some one began to sing "Wild Mountain Thyme" in a clear tenor voice, and the entire group of folkies joined in a soaring harmony on the chorus "...and we'll all go together." Madison paused, looking almost wistful, and said "they're hipper than I thought. That's a Byrds song." Red laughed and said "it's a folk song. See? Give these people a chance. You might like them." Madison smiled and said "we'll see. At least one of them is a murderer." He smiled the Blake Madison goofy good-natured smile that he never knew women liked, and said "maybe it's you done the killin." She laughed and said "so you're supposed to keep an eye on Argent, or take him back, or what?"
"Give me some of those Cheetoes," he said. "Well, its complicated. Theresa is not upset that he's having a little mid-life fiesta. I told her he's not screwing around on her. But, Argent is a code-writer and programmer for the government. In fact," he said, popping another Cheeto," he's the main programmer for NORAD."
"You mean the missile system?"
"Yep. He holds the highest priority clearance for a private citizen in the US government. He's not been to the office for 6 days and they're becoming a wee bit concerned, Theresa's been telling them he's got severe laryngitis. But if they find out he's flown the coop..."
"They'll send someone after him."
"Right. The goon squad, and the feds have some big-time goons. You heard him say he's armed, right? He left a note, says he's been a caged animal for 23 years and he's done, and he's not going back alive."
"And this shooting. Does it have anything to do with him?"
Madison examined the cheeto stain on his Lucky Strike butt and said "you tell me."