so good to see you again, sir! come back near closing.  five- thirty.  we'll place your order then. nico nods, fades like a shadow into the throng. music down, sequence ends --
emerges with nico from behind a booth divider, leads her * old friend at a brisk pace across the deserted floor.
of course not. just because you kept a few 'friendly' tribesmen from cutting my heart out and serving it up as pad thai? with a wink, watanabe escorts nico into a back area off the floor. carpeted office dividers set off a small area, packed with super sophisticated computer equipment.
the last six years i've been risking nothing but money. it's a kick to risk my ass again.
-- no way to access covert ops directly. but ornstein's at princeton, he's got a database bigger than langley -- if i can't crack that turkey's code, it's time to hang up my rock and roll shoes -- nico watches watanabe work.
-- ah, here! here's a little trap door. let's see if we can wriggle up into -- personnel files! operative dossiers. will that do?
you friend has found his metier.
central american desk. central american desk. central --
those street dealers you were talking about? they're not gonna be in here. nico gives her a look. watanabe starts punching keys. *
well, kiss my ass. both former somoza secret police. recruited by agency, 1975. trained fort benning, counter insurgency.
there's nothing left, nico. we've wrung these files dry.
i can get you the ball scores, too. dissolve to:
where are you going?