The Agent knocked back his shot and began on his beer when the words 'Council' and, more importantly 'she', reached his brain and nearly made him do a spit take. Marjorie was here? He wouldn't put it past the old cunt, what with her granddaughter in the States. Some extra avoidance was in order. Maybe out of state.

Like that worked so well the last time.

The pounding on the bar brought Whistler back into the conversation.

"Wait. A map?" Maps equaled clues. And given the Agent's radar was on the fritz, he needed all the clues he could get.