Toberius left his dark and musky office and walk through the dimly lit corridors of The Annex which housed the HR Department of Dunder Mifflin. As he walked he slowly glanced from side to side making note of everyone in their small cubicles with blank bored expressions on their faces. "Seems everything is normal as usual." He thought to himself as he reached the exterior door of the building.

As he pushed open the single metal door a ray and sunlight began to fill the office several employees shielded their faces and began complaining about the light. Never one to displease; Toberius stepped outside into the sunlight and pulled the door shut behind him.

The outside world was much different than the dark basement that is his office. He takes a moment to absorb the sound of birds chirping and the wind blowing on his face. He is immediately broken out of his trance by the sounds of his bodyguards Pork and Beans fumbling with the door behind him. Letting out a sigh he pulls the door open and the two fall out onto the ground behind him.

"Ah... Oh hullo Boss man. We got stuck on the door again." The two look at each other and begin laughing as they shove one another in an attempt to get up. "Wow Boss man. Its a pretty nice day outside! Maybe we should have a picnic!" Shaking his head Toberius removes his silver cigarette case from his pocket and lights a cigarette.

"Beans. Bring the Phantom around, I need to go into the city and meet with someone." Beans scratched his head and looked at Pork before answering. "But uhh, Boss man. Shouldn't we be going with you?" Toberius took a drag of his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and grinding it into the pavement. "Usually you should, but not this time. Just bring the car around."

"Oh.. Okay'den Boss man." Beans waddled off towards the back parking lot, as he disappeared around the corner Toberius turned to Pork with an envelope in hand. "Give this to Cantona, and hurry up would ya?" Pork nodded and rushed back inside the office.

A few moments later Beans pulled Toberius' Rolls in front of his and stepped out. "Ya need anything else Boss man?" Toberius shook his head and pulled the car door shut behind him. "Just make sure your brother delivers that letter."

Toberius quickly drops his foot on the gas kicking up dust and rocks as he speeds out of the driveway. Toberius reached for his new car radio and turned it on. Getting only static Toberius began grumbling to himself before hitting the dashboard. "Paid 300$ for this piece of shit and it doesn't even get the news." Hitting the dashboard once more the radio begins picking up the local news channel.

"This just in. Man found dead in the streets. Larry Lance, suspected mobster supervillain, was found dead after being hit crossing the road without looking both ways. More information will be available during the 6 o'clock news."

Toberius shook his head and flipped the radio off. "Why does the news always have to be so violent these days." Toberius took a moment to think about what's become of this world before turning his attention to the road. He stopped the car outside an abandoned looking building and turned off the engine.  

Anyone watching might have thought Eric Cantona suffered with obsessive compulsive disorder. For the third time in as many minutes, he checked his ornate fob-watch and sighed in defeat, grabbing the bottle on his desk and stuffing it into a drawer without uncorking it. Seconds later, he slid opened the drawer and retrieved the bottle and the tumbler once again. He uncorked it this time; the gentle pop was an orchestra to Eric in the dank little office. Before he could pour out a measure, a rap on his door rattled the frosted glass and within a second, that dumb oaf Pork was poking his head around the corner.

"Uhhh, say Boss, little early for that, ain't it?"

"God damn you Pork, you shit! You just 'ave to ruin every little thing, eh? Why are you 'ere?! Zis office is small enough without you cramping up ze place!"

Irritated, Cantona put the bottle back in his drawer and carelessly threw in the tumbler afterwards to the gentle tinkling sound of smashing crystal. Flamboyantly throwing his hands into the air and letting out a strangled yell of frustration, the Frenchman turned back to Pork.

"Why? What is eet zat is so important you come in 'ere and ruin my fucking morning!"

Pork stared at his shoes sheepishly. He didn't understand why Cantona was so sore at him, it was his own fault the glass broke! Edging forward, he dropped the envelope on Cantona's desk without a word. Once Eric saw it he forgot about his own bad mood and the hulking bodyguard immediately; the only person this man would run a simple errand for was Toberius, who Cantona had seen only that morning.

He turned the envelope over in his hands, mind racing as he analysed the situation. It was sealed with envelope glue judging by how uniform the edges were and, although there was nothing written on the outside, traces of ink imprint showed that the contents of the envelope had been quickly typed up and folded into the envelope without having dried. Certainly it would be from the Boss, and the only reason he would deliver something like this in an unmarked letter to Cantona instead of just speaking to him was that it was about as least incriminating as you could get, especially since it looked as though whatever was inside had been noted down with a typewriter rather than hand written. Before he had a chance to open it, Cantona heard a small cough and looked up to see, to his surprise, Pork still standing there.

"Oh. You should be wiz Toberius, no?

"Uhhh, no. He had to go into the city, he didn't need me. Uh, I got nothin' to do, Boss. I thought maybe we could, you know. grab some waffles and coffee...or you know...whatever you wanted to uh..."

"Waffles? Waffles?!" Cantona was on the edge of a scathing retort when he bit his tongue. They were good guys, Pork and Beans, but the evolutionary trade off of immense brawn and strength seemed to have left with the attitudes and minds of children. Doing his best to plaster an encouraging smile on his face, Cantona replied in a gentler tone.

"You know Pork? I am just too busy for all zat today. You should head down to ze warehouse, I know zat a couple of my guys are playing cards. You could join in, no?"

With a nod and a smile, Pork took off and left Eric the opportunity to sink into his chair which responded with a protesting groan of wood. For the millionth time he reminded himself to send someone out for one of those fancy leather ones like Toberius had. Finally, he slipped a fingernail under the flap of the envelope and tore it open, retrieving the single folded sheet of a4 inside. The typewritten ink had smudged slightly, but otherwise it was readable; and so Cantona read it. Then, when he got to the end, he read it again. Three more times he read it before he set the paper down and, with shaking hands, slid his drawer open. To his relief he saw only the tumbler had smashed and not the brandy. Pulling out the cork, he swigged down three mouthfuls of liquor before picking up the single sheet of paper and reading it once again.

Toberius sat in his car for a few moments longer before stepping out on to the street. Quickly shutting the car door behind him Toberius removed another cigarette from his case and lit it. After watching the smoke drift off down the street from the end of his cigarette Toberius shifted his gun to the back of his waistband and covered it with this jacket. After a few deep breathes he dropped his cigarette, opened the door to the building and went inside.

Back at The Annex, Pork was leaving Cantona’s office before running face first into his brother Beans. “Oh Hi’der Beans. Did ya miss me?” He chuckled at his own stupid joke before focusing his attention back on Beans. “Oh Hey’der Pork. I was just looking for ya. Boss man told me to tell you to give Cantona a letter.” Beans stopped for a moment to make sure he got his sentence right, then nodded. “No problemo. I already gived him the letter.” Beans sighed a breath of relief. “I was worried you lost it. It seemed pretty important if he sent us both to do it. Did mini-Boss man say what it was?” The two snickered at their nickname for Cantona. “Nope. But he did look like he was nervous when I handed to him. Mini-Boss man is always so jumpy.” The conversation trailed on for a few minutes before the two began wandering the office looking for someone else to play tag with them.

“Oh! I remembered. Mini-Boss man said they were people in the warehouse playing games. Maybe we can get one of them to play tag with us!” Pork and Beans grinned widely and quickly chased one another down to the warehouse. As they pushed open the large wooden doors a group of Dunder Mifflin men quickly turned their heads to see who was intruding on their game of cards. “Hullo friends!” The two shouted at full volume. The group of men began muttering and covering their faces with their hands. “Not these idiots again….” As Pork and Beans drew closer to the table it seemed as if their voices got louder and more demanding. “Who wants to play tag with us! Its a fun game!”

“Can’t you see we are playing cards! We don’t want to play tag with you two idiots.” Pork reached over picking up the deck of cards and almost immediately dropped them all over the floor. “Whoooops. Fifty-two pickup time!” The entire table let out a collective groan and stood up. “Well, it looks like we are down with cards…” As the men moved towards the door of the warehouse Cantona pushed it open with a worried look on his face. “Big Dunc, Laurent we are leaving. Get ze car and meet me out front.” Big Dunc and Laurent looked at one another then nodded towards Cantona and followed him outside. The two ran around to the back lot where Cantona’s 1926 Bugatti Type 23 sat. Hopping in the front Big Dunc and Laurent pull around to the front of the building. “So where we headed boss?” Cantona got into the back seat and shut the door. “Ead towards ze city. I’ll tell you when we are on ze road.”

"We going to meet up with the Don, Boss? I guess he'll be over at Comme Ci Comme Ca?"

Duncan peered into the rear view mirror as he spoke, seeing Eric wince at his English mangling the name of the French coffee lounge owned on the North Side. Seeing the wince slowly morph into a subtle shake of the head from Cantona, Duncan furrowed his brow in confusion and waited for a response.

"No, no. I 'ave some uzzer business to attend to with L'Irlandais in Bridgeport. You know ze Church of ze 'Oly Ascension? Swing by zer, we will drop by the Comme Ci afterwards, no?"

Duncan nodded in assent and shifted the Bugatti into first, swinging it out into the Parkway and heading towards the centre of Chicago, enjoying the ride in comfortable silence, which was broken a few minutes later when Lauren and Big Dunc drew their heads together for a whispered conference before Big Dunc cleared his throat and spoke in his soft baritone

"Boss, I ask you not to look around but I think we've got someone tailing us"

Although his face betrayed no emotion, Cantona's heart was in his mouth - he was uncharacteristically flapped. A tail? The feds? How could they possibly know already. They couldn't, could they? Surely not, but Cantona knew he couldn't conduct his business with the Irish without being certain. Shit.

"Make and Model?"

"Uh, looks like a Buick, Boss. Very similar to Snidely's four door sedan model. No front license plates. He's been sitting around 4 cars back since we left the warehouse."

"Did you 'ave a look at 'is face?"

"Sorry Boss, he's a little too far back and his brim's pulled way down low. Ain't no chance I'll catch sight of him like that."

"Zut alors...So. Wait till zer is a break in the traffic, pull a quick uh, 'ow you say, U-turn and we go back towards ze North Side. Hopefully when we go past 'im we see ze face and he probably will drop us, if not we will flush 'im out in the warehouse parking lot."

Cantona tried to appear calm as the two men discussed the the possible eventuality of trapping their 'spy' in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot. There was a considerable alley down the side of the warehouse, but his nerves were betrayed by the constant tapping of fingers on his thigh. Eventually, spotting a moment, Duncan slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, swinging the car in a neat 180. Seconds later, Cantona kept his eyes peeled as a Buick sedan approached the southbound and, to his astonishment, locked gazes with a wide eyed Snidely Whiplash went trundling past.

"God damn eet! You fucking idiots! It was Snidely! Jesus Christ, what do I pay you for?! Pull the car over, Christ."

Cantona kept up a steady stream of under-the-breath swearing in French as a red faced Duncan pulled the car unto the layby. Laurent, understanding the curses Cantona was spitting without taking a breath, tried his best to hide a smirk. Seconds later, Snidely pulled up behind them and Cantona was out of the car to confront him.

"For ze love of St. Bernadette 'erself you nearly gave me an 'eart attack you fuck! Are you crazy, following me like zis? A good job Laurent forgot 'is typewriter or he may well 'ave peppered your Buick on the way past! And zat is another thing; stop driving zat yank piece of crap = the feds use Fords and Buicks, I get a little nervous when I see one, no?"

Snidely said nothing, barely taking notice of the words. The frenchman was famous for his temper - what he called a Gallic flair and passion - and he was like a wind up toy, he'd soon run out of steam. Sure enough, Snidely detected a subtle change in the tone of voice and zoned back in to hear the important bits.

"Anyway, perhaps eet is a blessing zat you are 'ere. Do you remember Anton Cermak?" Seeing a blank look on the face of his junior, Cantona suddenly felt very old as he continued. "Naturellement, before your time of course. Years ago, 'ee was ze Mayor 'ere in Chicago; around ze time Solastalgia first moved Dunder Mifflin to ze North Side. Anyway, 'ee died young, zis Mayor, a tragic accident - a mugging, I believe. Now, the last official meeting 'ee 'ad was wiz our own Solastalgia; and zis new DA, ze Irish fool, is trying to make a name for 'imself by tying Solastalgia to ze poor Mayor's death. Nonsense, of course, so I'm going to meet wiz 'im and see if an arrangement cannot be made. 'Op in your car and follow us to Bridgeport!"

As he stepped inside the building Toberius pulled the door shut behind him. Taking a few moments to visually scan the inside of the building he took a few steps forward into a large open area with a table and two chairs sitting in the middle. Toberius checked his watch. Half past ten, he still had some time before the meeting. The inside of the building was deceptively small. Almost completely barren bar the table and chairs. Just as Toberius had instructed. This wasn't the time or place for doubt and deception. Just business.

Toberius took his seat at the table and focused his attention on the door. He check this watch again. 10:39. Toberius pulled a cigarette out of his case and lit it up. After taking a few quick hits he heard a car door slam shut outside, and someone opening the door.

A man in his early 50's enters the room wearing a suit. The two exchange glances and Toberius motions for the man to have a seat. “Please, take a seat Commissioner. Won’t you join me?”

After a slight hesitation the Commissioner takes a seat at the table across from Toberius.

“Now then Commissioner. I assume you have some idea of why I asked for this meeting?” The Commissioner slowly nodded his head and shifted in his seat.

“Good then. We won’t need to waste either other’s time going over the details. I also assume since you came alone you are interested in what I am offering?” Again the Commissioner nodded slowly. “Much like yourself Commissioner, I am a man of principle. I act when it is needed and I abstain from action when it is not warranted. Now, we have come to you from time to time when we feel… slighted.” Toberius crushes the end of his cigarette on the table before dropping it to the floor.

“This new District Attorney, doesn’t seem to understand his role here in the North Side. He is sticking his nose in old business where it does not belong.” The Commissioner quickly interrupts.

“Now just take a minute and listen Sir. He’s brand new, he hasn't been around long enough to fully accept his role. Just give him sometime! I’m sure he will come around! I know he has a certain tenacity to him still, but he just wants to make a good impression on the citizens of North Side.”

Toberius stands and slams his hands down on the table. “I don’t give two fucks about what he wants!” Taking a deep breath Toberius straightens his tie and sits back down. “Now listen here. We've already offered him money to drop his investigation, and now two of my boys are looking at bribery and racketeering charges. We gave him his chance and he threw it back in our faces. The discussion is over. When he leaves the office tonight, I need you and your men to be noticeably absent from the area. I hear there might be a bank heist across town around the same time. Maybe you men should go check it out. Capiche?”

The Commissioner slumped down in his chair and slowly nodded his head. “Ye-yes Sir.” The Commissioner dropped his head and stared at the floor. Rising from the table Toberius lit another cigarette and moved behind the Commissioner. Placing a hand on his shoulder he leaned in close to him.

“You made the right decision Frank. I wouldn't want to see your men or your family get hurt over some young punk who thinks he can take on the world.” Toberius smirks and reaches into his jacket pocket and drops an envelope on the table in front of the Commissioner. “Here, go on a vacation with the family. I think you've earned it. Oh, and tell the boys down at the station to ease up security on my men. I’ll be seeing you soon Frank.”

Toberius pats the Commissioner’s shoulder before making for the door. As he reaches it he looks back to see the Commissioner still sitting at the table placing the envelope of cash into his suit’s pocket. Smiling Toberius exits the building and gets in his car. There was still business to be handled before he could return to The Annex.

Snidely's words rang out in the small confines of the car and, for quite a long time, the silence stretched out; punctured only by the occasional inhalation of cigarette smoke. Eventually, when Cantona did speak, it was in a voice barely above a whisper and his eyes were blank and distant, as though staring off at something only he could see.

"When seagulls follow the trawler it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea"

The silence stretched out slightly longer before Snidely managed to force out a baffled 'What?!', snapping Eric out of his bizarre reverie.

"What? Oh. Eet is nuzzink. Close zat window! Pneumonia would be a poor Christmas gift, no?!"

As Snidely wound the window back up, Eric checked his elegant fob watch before fishing one of his own cigarettes, a slender Gauloise, from a suit pocket. After it was lit, over a third of the cigarette was gone with 2 deep drags and, as he exhaled through his mouth, he drew the smoke back in throw his nose. The car slowly filled with smoke until the men could barely see each other by the time Cantona spoke in a weary tone, with his head pitched back and resting against the seat.

"Eet is an 'orrible thing, Snidely. Zis man, we 'ave tried to talk to him - to make 'im see sense, but no. 'Ee will not listen to reason, logic, or even our friend Mr. Franklin! The Don is meeting with ze police commissioner and ze DA's protection will be bought off. Still, we cannot just snatch him off ze street like some common 'ooligans. No, we must get to 'im at 'is 'ome. Now, zer is a man here in Bridgeport, a drunk, but still someone 'oo can tell us where ze DA lives - zey are from ze same neighbourhood."

Finishing his cigarette, Cantona cracked the window to flick out the butt and the smoke swirled out as if in a vacuum. Almost before the window was closed, he had lit another; his stress was palpable.

"Zis man, I know 'im - but zer is perhaps too much bad blood for 'im to speak to me. I was going to send in Laurent or Duncan to chat wiz him. Instead, you will go and talk wiz 'im - just talk, he will listen to the power of money - and we will 'ave our location.

Cantona checked the time once more before continuing.

"Eet is just a little after two. You will go and find zis man now. 'Ee will be in the Church of Our Lady, Duncan will give you ze full details. Once you have ze DA's 'ome address, you will come and meet us in O'Houlahan's bar and grill. The DA leaves his office at six each day - a terrible thing to be a creature of 'abit. 'Ee will be lacking his usual police protection, thanks to the Don. When 'ee arives 'ome, we will be waiting for him."