"Pizza delivery," he said.
"Pretty fancy pizza wagon," the guard said, nodding at the Cadillac limousine.
"Well, I usually got a big pizza slice an top of the car, but I take it off at night. The kids, you know."
"Yeah, kids are bastards, ain't they?" the guard said.
"Sure are."
"Go ahead through," the guard said. "You can park in the lot up there."
"We're looking for Dr. Remo and Dr. Chiun. You know where they are?"
The guard looked at a list on a clipboard. "They came in earlier with everybody else and they didn't sign out. But I don't know what lab they're in."
"But they're in there, right?"
"Have to be," the guard said. "No way out except past me, and no one's gone out tonight."
"Maybe they're sleeping," Anselmo said.
"Maybe," the guard said.
"Maybe I won't disturb them. I'll tell you what. You take the pizza and we'll let them rest."
"Does it have anchovies?" the guard asked.
"No. Just extra cheese and pepperoni," Anselmo said.
"I like anchovies best," the guard said.
"The next time, I bring you one with anchovies," Anselmo promised.
"Won't those two doctors be mad?" the guard asked.
"Not as mad as they're gonna be later," Anselmo said. He shoved the pizza into the guard's hands, put the Cadillac in reverse and slid away.
"Don't forget the anchovies," the guard called.
Two blocks away, Anselmo parked alongside a telephone booth and called the Muswassers' number. "Yes?" Gloria said.
"They're at the lab," Anselmo said.
"Good. We're all ready."
"Just give us time to get out of town," Anselmo said. Gloria Muswasser crawed through the manicured greenery of the IHAEO laboratory complex. She was wearing Earth shoes and a filthy green combat uniform which she had treasured ever since she rolled a Vietnam vet for it in 1972.
Her husband trailed along behind her, emitting little squeaks of pain as bits of rock and twigs scratched his flaccid abdomen.
"Why did I have to come along anyway?" Nathan whined. "You're carrying the whole thing by yourself. You didn't need me."
"No, I didn't," Gloria snapped in agreement. "But I figured if we got caught, I wouldn't have to go to jail alone."
He grabbed her ankle. "Is there a chance of getting caught?"
"None at all, if you keep quiet," she said.
"I don't want to go to jail," Nathan said.
"We won't. I promise you. Before I let the establishment pigs take you, Nathan, I'll gun you down myself."
Nathan gulped.
"It'll make all the papers. You'll be a martyr to the cause. "
"That's . . . that's groovy, Gloria."
"Don't say 'groovy.' It's out-of-date. Say 'awesome.' "
"Okay. It's awesome, Gloria."
"Totally," she agreed. "Also incredible."
"Yeah. That too," Nathan said.
"How about here?" she said. She pointed to a spot of turf near a mulberry bush.
"Totally incredible, Gloria."
"Good. We'll plant the damn thing right here."
"Like a flower," Nathan said. "We'll plant it like a flower. Remember flowers? You used to be real into flowers."
"Screw flowers. Flowers never got us anywhere. Violence is where were coming from now. Nobody ever gave up shit because of flowers."
"Yeah. Up flowers. Violence is where it's at."
"Don't say 'where it's at,' Nathan. It's out-of-date. Say 'bottom line.' "
"Bottom line?"
"Violence is the bottom line," Gloria said, as she turned the time for 120 minutes. "She's going to go, baby."
"Should we watch?"
"Of course not, asshole. We'd be blown up. We'll call the television stations. They'll watch."