The Mercedes’s driver pulled a cell from his pants. He cupped a hand over it and turned to his colleagues. “I have to take this.” He stepped onto the sidewalk and covered his other ear to block out the screaming.
“Mr. Grande, an honor, sir…. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to speak up. Miami Beach is pretty noisy this time of day…. I see…. I see…. No, that won’t be a problem…. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Grande. You won’t regret this….”
The driver closed his cell phone and turned back to the street. “We have to go.”
Police sirens grew louder as they piled back in the Mercedes and sped away.
The old man was still kicking when the cops arrived. The first officer realized what was happening and jumped out of the squad car. “No! Stop!” he yelled, running toward the old man and pulling his nightstick. “Here — use a baton.”
16
An astronaut in a pressure suit heard his own amplified, labored breathing as he slowly navigated his moon buggy over the treacherous terrain.
The buggy rolled past a man in a tropical shirt, banging the side of his handheld global tracker.
“What’s it say?” asked Lenny.
“The vector’s gone haywire,” said Serge. “Must be jammed by all the space transmissions here.”
“In a tourist attraction?”
“No, but the attraction is in the middle of a working launch complex, and next to a pair of classified Air Force installations.”
“What’ll we do?”
“We simply have to start canvassing,” said Serge. “There’s the gift shop.”
“You just want souvenirs.”
They pushed open the glass doors. No briefcase in immediate sight. Serge walked rapidly down the aisles, spinning display racks of pins, magnets and key chains. He picked up a stack of official launch photos and discarded them one by one: “Already got it, got it, got it, got it, got it…” He scanned the rows of personalized NASA coffee mugs,
“I think that last joint is wearing off,” said Lenny.
“Hang on. I just found something I don’t have.” He grabbed it off the wall, paid at the cash register and went into the rest room. He came out ten minutes later wearing a royal blue astronaut jumpsuit. “How do I look?”
“Babe magnet.”
“It’s not about sex. It’s about the human spirit,” said Serge, tucking his folded Life List in a zippered utility pocket on his shoulder.
“I thought it was about sex,” said Lenny.
They left the gift gantry and began combing the exhibits. It was a thorough, time-consuming search, from the IMAX theater to the walk-through space shuttle. The crowd was heavy, getting autographs from authentic NASA astronauts who were assigned public relations duty on a rotating basis. One of the astronauts zipped by on a replica moon buggy. A family from Minnesota flagged him down for photos. Other families stopped Serge in his royal blue jumpsuit, asking him to pose with their kids.
“Come on!” yelled Lenny.
“Hold up,” said Serge. “I cannot deny the children.”
They worked their way through the Gallery of Manned Spaceflight, taking a break to peer down into a dimly lit bulletproof display case.
“That moon rock looks awfully familiar,” said Serge.
“I need a joint,” said Lenny. “I’ll crouch down behind the lunar module.”
“I’ll stand guard,” said Serge.
“I can’t take the stress anymore,” said Paul, gazing up at the polished granite monument. “We’ve got a whole twenty-four hours before our ship leaves.”
“Character is grace under pressure,” said Jethro. “Consider the early astronauts. Those were the days of giants, when destiny did not choose men, but men chose destiny.”
Paul and Jethro heard shouting in the distance. They turned and saw a security guard chasing two men — one in a royal blue jumpsuit — away from the Gallery of Manned Spaceflight. But the guard was in mall-cop weight range, and he quickly became winded and broke off pursuit.
Serge peeked out from behind a ticket booth. “I think we lost him.”
“I’m fairly sure I have the munchies now.”
Serge began gently rubbing all the official space patches on his shoulders and chest.
“Must have snack,” said Lenny, feeling his tongue with his fingers. “And beverage.”
Serge unzipped and rezipped the dozen utility pockets on his thighs, knees and forearms.
Lenny grabbed his throat. “Parched!…
“Don’t embarrass me.” Serge zipped a pocket.
“Okay, let’s get a bite.”
“Cool.”
They entered the Launch Pad Café. Lenny got a chili-cheese dog. Serge sat across from him in his jumpsuit, eyes closed, sucking on a foil pouch of astronaut ice cream.
“Serge…” said Lenny.
“Shhhh! Don’t talk. I’m having a
“Isn’t this the best chili-cheese dog you’ve ever seen in your life?”
“I’ve never felt comfortable about any cheese that comes out of a condiment pump.”
“I need another joint.”
