As it turned out, Greg would have had a hard time canceling the check, even if he'd changed his mind. Chloe's crew had already sprung into action as soon as they left the building. The company used a computer controlled switchboard to route phone calls and this immediately went down, same for their Internet access. Meanwhile, a crude but effective denial of service attack was launched against their company Web site. If Greg decided to use his cell phone there wasn't much they could do, but the hope was that he'd be so tied up with all this other crap that he wouldn't have time to think of that. Paul didn't think any of that was necessary. Greg had given in and he wasn't going to call and cancel the check now. He'd agreed for a reason, and once Greg had a reason for making a decision it was usually impossible to change his mind. And it didn't make sense anyway. All he would have done is buy himself a little more time. Chloe and Paul would just march right back in and start all over again - probably after sending out pics of Evan in drag to all the employees. From his point of view, there was no reason for Greg to do that. Of course, it was still a huge risk for Chloe and Paul. If Greg just wanted a delay to get the lawyers involved, then they were in trouble. Chloe and he had broken a fist full of laws in the past twelve hours. They needed to cash that check and disappear as soon as they could. The bank put up a bit of a fuss about the check, which was one more reason Paul hated Bank of Fucking America. They always had some rule to screw a customer. But Chloe made a bunch of noise and actually jumped up and down at one point and eventually they walked out of the bank with a cashier's check. How does Paul feel about Bank of America? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. He thinks they are friendly. B. He thinks they are an honest company. C. not enough information D. He hates it.
D

SINGAPORE What now? That is the question from the White House in Washington to the Blue House in Seoul and perhaps also inside the Ryongsong Residence in Pyongyang. Following the historic handshake here between a U.S. president and a North Korean leader, who inked their names to a document with vague but compelling promises, the question emanating from Sentosa's Capella Hotel was what will actually change on the Korean peninsula? Moments after the summit between Donald Trump and North Korea's Kim Jong Un concluded, VOA contributor Greta Van Susteren and I spent a few minutes with the U.S. president and his secretary of state, at the Capella. Trump was elated and within the hour would make a surprising announcement suspending "provocative" joint U.S.-South Korean drills on the Korean peninsula. "We had a great chemistry," the president, speaking to Van Susteren, said of himself and Kim. "We will do business." Secretary of State Mike Pompeo told us, "it's a great day." The president has essentially handed off to Pompeo the hard work of turning a sparse declaration on denuclearization into something truly transformative. Many will question whether Pompeo, who a decade ago was running an oilfield equipment company, is truly the man for the task. In Pompeo's background, however, are indications of his capabilities: First in his class at the U.S. Military Academy, time served on the House of Representative's intelligence committee, a brief stint as director of the Central Intelligence Agency and two meetings with Kim in Pyongyang. Perhaps he is now as astute as any American official on piecing together the Pyongyang puzzle. This correspondent an observer of the Korean peninsula over five decades, resident in Seoul for several years and once given the opportunity to frankly converse for a week (in 2013) in the North with KPA officers has gleaned some insight into the world's most reclusive state. Rarely can any collection of a few hundred words adequately encapsulate the geo-political conundrum. It is... who knows as much about the situation as any American? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. Trump B. Kim C. Pompeo D. not enough information
C

November always dragged around the station, but today was one dead Sunday. Not one car pulled off the interstate all morning. Nothing hit the drive but a thin steady rain, puddling slow rainbows in the oil. Me and Harnie just tilted back our chairs against the cigarette rack, watched the monster movie, and waited for the game to start. The big flying turtle was about set to barbeque downtown Tokyo when the drive bell rang, and up sluiced a car so damn gorgeous it hurt to look at it. A '37 Buick Roadmaster it was, painted a red so rich it was nearly black, that straight eight engine whispering like a lover while teardrops of rain rolled down the chrome grill. Out climbed this tall fellow, dressed like God's grandpa done up for a wedding or a funeral. His skin was brown as a buckwheat cake, with creases deep as drainage ditches. Took a mighty long stretch of sweat and toil, love and birth and dying, to carve a face like that. He flexed his shoulders, then rolled his neck till it cracked. He pulled a pack of Camel straights from inside his vest and flipped one out. "Got a light?" His voice was deep and warm, half gravel, half honey. I tossed him a pack of matches through the open door; he caught it left-handed, then flipped it open, folded over a match, and struck it with his thumb. "This the town with the dead fiddler?" he said after a long drag on the smoke. "You might say so," I said, ignoring the look Harnie gave me. Nobody talked about her; I wondered how this fellow had even heard about her. "Ain't a fiddle, though. It's a cello, like in the symphony." The stranger shrugged. "Close enough." "She ain't d-dead, neither," Harnie said. "M-more sleeping, like." He puffed out a wreath of smoke. Then another. "Let's go wake her up," he said. "You best not try, mister," I said. "She been sleeping for thirty some year." What color car was the stranger driving? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. not enough information B. white C. green D. red
D