"In you go," invited Remo, gesturing to the truck. His deep-set eyes, flat as river-bottom stones, were unreadable.
Orvis made a disgusted face. "What, you mean crawl in with the garbage?"
"Look," Remo said impatiently, "The ACLU went to a lot of trouble to set this up. We had to steal a garbage truck and a uniform for me to wear, work out timetables, and drill for weeks. Everything has been worked out to the tiniest detail. This is Thursday morning. The truck comes every Thursday morning to haul trash. Okay, we're hauling trash."
"But there's garbage in there," Orvis said unhappily.
"I have to make it look good, don't I?" Remo said. "I already emptied half the barrels into the back so the screws would see that I was working."
"I ain't sittin' in no garbage," Sonny said. "I want to sit up front with you."
"The gate guards know only one driver drove the freaking truck in. Don't you think he'll get suspicious if two of us drive out?"
"Tell him I'm your brother."
"He'll know I'm not because we don't smell like brothers," Remo said.
Sonny frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Eventually, Remo convinced the trio to enter the truck. They clambered in gingerly and squatted down on their haunches, holding their noses and looking unhappy-except Sonny, who seemed either to enjoy the smell or not to notice it.
"Hold that pose," Remo said and, knocking off an aluminum lid, lifted up one of the still-full cans. He brought it to the truck's maw.
Three pairs of hands went whoa.
"Hey, what are you doing?" DeWayne hissed.
"Putting in the rest of the garbage," Remo said reasonably.
"But we're in here!"
"Look, if I only take half of the garbage, the guards will catch on."
"Okay, let us out and then put in the stupid garbage. After that, we'll get back in."
"You don't understand. What if they look in the back of the truck and see you guys?"
"Tell him we're your cousins," Sonny suggested.
"It's like this, I throw the garbage in or we call the whole thing off. You guys don't know how many Mission: Impossible reruns my superiors had to sit through to come up with a plan as foolproof as this."
"You say this is foolproof?" Orvis said.
"Guaranteed not to fail."
"Okay. But watch the clothes. I didn't take time to pack."
"Did I mention all dry cleaning bills are on the ACLU?" Remo asked.
The three immediately brightened.
And Remo threw the contents of the can in their beaming faces. He had deliberately saved the worst, smelliest cans for this moment.
As he flung refuse, inundating the trio, Remo mentally called off the names of their victims, adding after each, "This is for you."
Eventually, the three were buried in rotting cafeteria leftovers.
Remo called into the malodorous pile. "That's the last of it. You guys still with me "
A knot of rancid cabbage seemed to say, "Yeah."
"Okay, I gotta close the sweep blade now."
"You mean the hydraulic thing?" DeWayne asked.
"That's it."
"Isn't that kinda dangerous?"
"Only to garbage," said Remo, climbing to the side and giving the lever a yank.
He couldn't quite remember which way it worked. Up for close. Up and down for close and compress. Maybe it was down and up. He yanked the lever up.
With a grinding of the mechanism, the hydraulics started toiling. The great slab of a sweep blade dropped and closed like a vault door. And stopped.
Remo frowned. He tried yanking the lever another way. Nothing.
Then a guard was shouting through the open door, "Hey, you!"
"Yeah?"
"You about done in there?"
"Almost."
"The guard captain wants to know what's taking you so long."
"Sweep blade is stuck."
"Well, get that smelly rig out of here and fix it on your own time."
"You got it," said Remo, giving the ridged truck body a reassuring tap.
Remo slid behind the wheel and trundled out toward the yard. He stopped at the gate and handed over a clipboard with a lot of unreadable signatures.
"They don't pay you guys enough," said the guard, holding his nose against the smell while trying to sign the clipboard with one hand.