Glubwart and Snakefoot decided to start at square one. That meant duplicating efforts already undertaken by their overlings, but they were determined to leave nothing to chance. The miserable duffers couldn't be trusted. So they started checking apartments near the hospital. "Have you seen a young couple with a child? Or twins? Anything unusual? Have you heard anyone talking?" No one had heard or seen anything unusual. They certainly would have noticed conjoined twins -- "that's very unusual, isn't it?" "Yes, ma'am, that's very unusual."
Glubwart and Snakefoot expanded their search to shopping malls, grocery stores, police stations, hospitals, clinics, daycare facilities, babysitting services, frequently changing their appearances. Sometimes they posed as police, sometimes as salesmen, utility repairmen, home security system representatives, evangelists, reporters.
They canvassed the entire city, neighborhood by neighborhood. It was as if the pair and their whelps never existed; an entire city with collective amnesia. Brain-browsing was useless; these brains were empty -- nothing about a young girl and boy with unusual offspring. Glubwart and Snakefoot could feel Screwtape's fearsome breath on their necks.
"Time to try a different tack," Snakefoot said. "Let them come to us. They need money. Taking care of that monster is expensive."
Glubwart was interested.
"Set up a foundation for conjoined twins -- any care they need -- at no cost to the caregivers."
Glubwart was impressed. He hated to admit it was a good idea, and fumed that he had not thought of it. "Hmmm. Might work," he said. "Worth a try."
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