[...] and there it was again, the snatch of forced air-music that Sylvanshine couldn't place but made him want to leave his seat and go chase something on foot in the company of all the children in the neighborhood, all of whom come boiling out of their respective front doors and hotfooting it up the street holding currency aloft, and before he could think, Sylvanshine said, 'Bizarre as this sounds, can either of you every so often hear--?'

'Mister Squishee,' now said the agent to his right in a baritone that didn't go with his body at all. 'Fourteen Mister Squishee iterant-route frozen confection S corp out of East Peoria trucks seized together with office facilities, receivables, and equity holdings of four out of the seven members of the family who owned what the Region's counsel convinced the Seventh Circuit was de facto a privately held S corp,' Bondurant said. 'Disgruntled employee, falsified depreciation schedules for everything from freezers to trucks like this here--'

[...] the expression in Cheryl Ann's eyes, which without ever once again thinking about it Tom Bondurant has never forgotten, was one of blank terminal sadness, not so much that of a pheasant in a dog's jaws as of a person who's about to transfer something he knows in advance he can never get sufficient return on. [...]