Tom and Lupita had an understanding: they would never be together for more than 18 months at a time. Tom, after all, already had a relationship with Janet. A home in Oslo. And Lupita had her husband Effe. And a child. With a pet dog. And so many other lovers. Ever since Tom and Lupita met atop the Cerro San Cristobal in Santiago, they (k)new this strange and wonderful thing between them was ephemeral. Impermanent. But it served its purpose as a useful and beneficial distraction for them both. Under the shadow of the Virgin, they swore their part-time love for one another that day. Relieved that best-selling author Don Bleu had been silenced by a Jeep straight into the rib cage, his on again-off again affair with Lupita was just what he needed most at this time since revenge was no longer an option. Tom was happy not to have to dirty his hands, especially with the “demise” of Professor X so fresh in his memory—as fresh as a newly dug grave. So many grave misunderstandings to deal with once he returned to Oslo. But now he needed Lupita. And what she could provide him: Mr. Bleu’s briefcase—the one picked up by her husband after the Jeep sped away and before the authorities arrived.