Pool_2

>> Gas <<

Although the microphone transmitter was working quite well, and reception of the bug's transmission on the far block in the Ford Explorer was also excellent, Frank could only make out fragments of conversation as talkers traveled room to room. "Stay put! Damn it!" he cursed. Then he heard this. "He can't just let her..." Her who? Shannon? Were they plotting something against her, too? "Why hasn't Mick called yet? If Mick couldn't get in, they were supposed..." fading off. "To what? Damn. Stay put." Sumner grimaced at every extraneous noise in the building and outside. Another voice, very hard to hear, "Mick's always a problem. When you guys gonna listen to me? He never calls or keeps to our plans, any plans for that matter," getting louder and nearer, "What the fuck is THIS?" "It's a television. What the hell does it look like?" "For what?" "Your buddy, Price. Sent some ding-a-ling here, fucking deformed retard. Dumb ass carried it all the way from Price's office for ten bucks." Laughter was heard. "His tongue was hanging down to here. Coulda licked his own dick," more laughing, as another voice came in. "Why a TV? He think we're actually going to fix his fucking TV sets?" "I'm sure we'll find out. Leave it for now, we got business. Anyway, he's still got cops buggin his ass."