<This is where they find the tap.>
<Okay.  So Fletcher is scanning… Looks at Swinton…  Double-checks results…>

SWINTON

You’re joking.  You’re trying to get me back.

FLETCHER

I have an excellent sense of humor, but I never joke.

SWINTON

What the hell does that—

FLETCHER

Do you know what a tapeworm is?  It’s a subcutaneous transponder.  The simplest ones just send out a radio beacon so their host’s movements can be easily tracked.  Judging from its location, the one in you is more advanced.

SWINTON

In me!

FLETCHER

These ones planted near the jaw take advantage of bone conduction to relay the host’s conversation.  Some can even pick up sub-vocalizations.  The next best thing to reading your mind.

<See him clap his hand to his jaw?>

FLETCHER

Other side.

<OK, that's funny.  Well, maybe not to you.>

SWINTON

I don’t believe you.  Who would want to follow me?

FLETCHER

Before you say anything else, remember that anything you say is probably being broadcast to an encrypted back-up with a Watcher scanning it.

SWINTON

Jesus.

FLETCHER

I can get the tapeworm out for you.

<Swinton's still fingering around his jaw.>

SWINTON

Will it hurt?

FLETCHER

Yes.

SWINTON

Jesus.

FLETCHER

You could have it taken out under anesthetic.

SWINTON

That’s a better id—

FLETCHER

Of course this one was probably inserted while you were under anesthetic. 

SWINTON

Jesus!

FLETCHER

Maybe your dentist is more skilled than I had assumed.  The unit might be hidden under a crown.

<What's the dentist's status?>
<Already taken care of.>
<Damn.  That's going to look bad on the budget.>
<Can't be helped.>
<I know.>

SWINTON

How much would it hurt?

FLETCHER

Slightly worse than a vaccination?  I can’t say more precisely; I had my pain switch turned off the time it happened to me.

SWINTON

Christ.

<Rummaging around … Ah—the lady comes prepared.  Worm-whistle in her attaché case.>
<Not likely to be standard kit.>
<You think she knew the tapeworm would be there?>
<Either she knew or she had reason to suspect.>
<I wonder what tipped her?>
<The Pathfinder series is extremely intelligent.>
<Giving the devil her due?  Very generous.>
<Just stating a fact.>

FLETCHER

Ready?

SWINTON

By the pricking of my gums, something wicked this way comes…

<She blows the whistle—here it comes.  There! That's got to hurt.>

SWINTON

Ow!

FLETCHER

If you cover it, the worm will just keep spinning in your flesh.

<Pulls out a pair of gloves, good sensible precaution.  Very big on the rulebook, your metal op.>
<No comment.  But note the waitress in the background, staring at them.  Watch what she does.>

SWINTON

God DAMN!

<Oh—now I can see it spinning just under the skin of his jaw.  And…pop!  Oops—a little red mess for the waitress.  Hope Swinton's a big tipper.  Look at it thrashing away like a worm on a hotplate.  God, they're evil-looking little bastards.  Like wiggling needles.>
<It should have been made to self-destruct on discovery.>
<Where is the money for all these little mods?  The shop hates re-wiring on the fly.  They'd block my calls if they dared.>

SWINTON

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

FLETCHER

Excellent.

<God, the thing's still going!  Look at it trying to bite into her hands as she picks it up!>

FLETCHER

Very serious snoopy.  Yes, this one is designed for audio pick-up.   

SWINTON

Thank god for my witty conversation.

FLETCHER

Be grateful they weren’t going for pictures.  Those ones wrap around the optic nerve.  You can imagine how they come out.

<That took the wind out of him.>
<Note the sound of the doorbell jingling.  The waitress looks over her shoulder, then walks quickly behind the counter and into a back room.>
<One of ours?>
<No.  But we think she recognized Fletcher and called in the gun.  She's tweaked with an IR transmitter implant.  I've parsed fragments of her broadcast through this scene, but there are counter-surveillance baffles in the café that make it difficult.>
<To be expected, at this kind of place.>
<Of course.>

SWINTON

But why would anyone care about me?

FLETCHER

Have you been stealing from any of your wealthy clients?  Sleeping with their wives? 

SWINTON

No!

FLETCHER

Or husbands?

SWINTON

I was married, remember?

FLETCHER

It would certainly explain a divorce.

Would your ex-wife want to hear what you were saying?

SWINTON

She didn’t when we were married.

FLETCHER

Then I have to wonder—

SWINTON

Who the hell are y—?

 <Looks up, and Bingo!  There's the gun at Fletcher's head.>