Sharon’s foot traced the grout in between the ceramic floor tiles.

“This is not Nazi Germany,” Nola said softly. “We do what our conscience dictates.”

She was on the line to Roberta again within minutes.

“My Ginger Goddess! How are you doing?” Big Mouth asked. “Do you have any idea how many requests we’ve received for ‘Flower Babies’ downloads?”

Nola spoke quickly. “I need your help. I am stuck at the embassy in Manila—in the Philippines—”

“God Almighty. And we thought you were on our shores! Listeners, are you there?”

Nola rushed on, fearing a giant hand would reach down from the sky and yank the telephone cord out of its socket. “It looks like someone in the State Department is trying to deny Lulu an entry visa into the United States—”

“Wow,” Roberta said. “Wow.”

“I’m hearing talk of her extradition. I’m afraid for Lulu’s safety if we stay here much longer.”

“You’ve called the right place. We’re going to check directly with the White House—”

“She’s entitled to political asylum,” Nola added quickly.

“While I’m dialing,” Roberta called out, “I need everybody’s show of support. No, don’t honk your horns, please. The police had a collective plotz yesterday. Instead, just fart and open your car windows. I want your protest to stink to high heaven.”

Nola laughed. “No train and subway passengers are allowed to participate in this protest.”

“You heard what our delicate national heroine tells you. Oh, here we are, the White House is on the line. Hello? Mr. President?”

It took a minute for the White House spokesman to promise that the president himself would look into the matter.

“Looking into it isn’t enough,” Roberta told him. “We want action. Now. By the time we go off the air in forty-five minutes, I and my ten million listeners want to hear it confirmed that Lulu has a kosher visa and she and Nola are being escorted safely to a direct flight to New York. JFK airport. Not a funny farm someplace, Capeesh? You need more time to go over legalities? I’ll give you one. Lulu, this gorgeous baby, a genius who will one day find the cure for cancer, is being singled out for torture and murder—isn’t that your legal definition of political prosecution? Well, she’s seeking shelter in the United States of America, land of the free and home of the brave. Right, listeners?

“Now, to show our government how serious we are, let’s make sure Corwith hears our wishes directly from his constituency. Listeners, are you there, my friends? Mr. President, can you show us what you can do for one baby? Okay, the White House’s fax number is two-zero-two, five-five-five—”

CHAPTER 40 (1997)