As she moved forward, the guards took a faltering step backwards. Then, as a man, they turned and fled the room, slamming the door after them.
Toffee shrugged lightly, turned and gazed about. The Leader was no longer in evidence. She paused to consider briefly, then crossed to the large desk in the center of the room, and bent down to peer underneath.
"You may as well come out," she said. "I see you."
The Leader's head appeared apprehensively in the opening. "Go vay," he said. "Vhy you not dad? You crazy?"
"Crawl out of there, Sam," Toffee commanded. "Loosen that tight collar of yours and get set for a lesson in future history. You can frolic about on the floor later."
Slowly the great man emerged and stood before her. Toffee's refusal to die or even get decently dented had shaken him to the very foundations. Furtively he eyed the bullet-scarred wall.
"Shame," Toffee said. "You've been naughty, Jasper. Sit down."
He did as he was told, looking as though he might burst into tears at any moment. "Vhy you not dad lak hangnail?" he insisted. "You got an iron gordle?"
"I simply can't be killed," Toffee said. "I just can't seem to bring myself around to a serious frame of mind about guns and knives and that sort of trash. Which leads me to the problem at hand. I've got a plan for you, kiddo, and though it won't take five years, we've got to shake a leg." She glanced at the row of buttons and the speaker on the desk. "You know what you're going to do?"