"So is that all there is?" Carrie asked."Yes, turns out I just needed the advice after all. I thought we might have to arrange an elaborate sting." I ...aid. "I guess I have been watching too much TV." This is a pretty low priority crime. Most of our resources go into the war on drugs. Even that has taken a holiday this last year. I am told you had something to do with that. You are something of a folk hero around the station." It's all TV hype Carrie. I am just one person trying to survive in. "Holy shit," Brian said as they approached the area. "I guess something's burning all right." Though they were still six blocks away a haze of black smoke was quickly accumulating up along the ceiling. It grew into a thick fog further down the street. Hundreds of people, many of them coughing and with soot on their faces, were rushing out of the area, making it difficult for Lisa to navigate the cart through them. "Computer," he asked, "are any units on scene yet?" Negative," the computer. " He nodded."I knew as soon as I saw that look on your face that you recognised me—I've seen it before on others; but you have to believe me when I say that I have no memory of either you, or what I did to you. I'm assuming that it was something pretty horrible, though; that's what usually turns out to be the case. And although I'd probably rather not know, to be honest, I suppose that I really ought to, but let me just explain about the memory thing, first, if I may."Five years ago I was in. I finished off my coffee and turned to Brendan — his name was Brendan Parker — as I stood up. "It's time to go Brendan," I indicated the clock on the wall to my left, "I have an appointment."He smiled. "Who's the lucky man this time?" He's that painter from yesterday that I told you about, the man called Mark."Brendan liked to drink coffee with me in the mornings and for some reason — probably because he's a guy and guys for some curious reason love to listen to women telling dirty stories —.