you sack of shit! As it is, I can
barely contain my rage at the thought that a scumbag like you is consuming *air*
that the rest of us could be breathing! Now, roll up your goddamned window and
drive your fucking bourge-mobile before I smash your fucking head in!"

He shut his mouth, alarmed. What the hell was he saying? How did he end up
standing here, outside of his car, shouting at the other driver, stalking
towards the Flea with his hands balled into fists? Why was he picking a fight
with this goddamned psycho, anyway? A year in peaceful, pistol-free London had
eased his normal road-rage defense systems. Now they came up full, and he
wondered if the road-rager he'd just snapped at would haul out a
Second-Amendment Special and cap him.

But the other driver looked as shocked as Art felt. He rolled up his window and
sped off, turning wildly at the next corner -- Brookline, Art saw. Art got back
into his rental, pulled off to the curb and asked his comm to generate an
optimal route to his hotel, and drove in numb silence the rest of the way.

19.

They let me call Gran on my second day here. Of course, Linda had already called
her and briefed her on my supposed mental breakdown. I had no doubt that she'd
managed to fake hysterical anxiety well enough to convince Gran that I'd lost it
completely; Gran was already four-fifths certain that I was nuts.

"Hi, Gran," I said.

"Arthur! My God, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Gran. It's a big mistake is all."

"A mistake? Your lady friend called me and told me what you'd done in London.
Arthur, you need help."

"What did Linda say?"

"She said that you threatened to kill a coworker. She said you threatened to
kill *her*. That you had a knife. Oh, Arthur, I'm so worried --"

"It's not true, Gran. She's lying to you."

"She told me you'd say that."

"Of course she did. She and Fede -- a guy I worked with in London -- they're
trying to get rid of me. They had me locked up. I had a business deal with Fede,
we were selling one of my ideas to a company in New Jersey. Linda talked him
into selling to some people she knows in LA instead, and they conspired to cut
me out of the deal. When I caught them at it, they got me sent away. Let me
guess, she told you I was going to say this, too, right?"

"Arthur, I know --"

"You know that I'm a good guy. You raised me. I'm not nuts, OK? They just wanted
to get me out of the way while they did their deal. A week or two and I'll be
o