“Roadblock? What the shit,” Bodine grinding it into reverse, various goodies for the troops crashing off of their shelves as the truck lurches around. Shirley loses her footing and staggers forward, Krypton grabbing for her as Slothrop leans to take the handgun off the dashboard, finding her half-draped over the front seat when he gets back around to the window. “Where the fuck is low now? What is it, a Red Cross gearbox, you got to put a nickel in someplace to get it in gear, hey Shirley?”

“Oh, goodness,” Shirley squirming over into the front between them, grabbing the shift, “like this, you drip.” Gunshots behind them.

“Thank you,” sez Bodine, and, leaving rubber in a pungent smoking shriek, they’re off again.

“You’re really hot, Rocketman, wow,” Krypton lying in back offering ankle and taped cocaine bottle to Shirley with a smile.

“Do tell.”

“No thanks,” sez Shirley. “I’d really better not.”

“C’mon… aw…”

“Were those snowdrops back there?” Slothrop squinting into the lampshine ahead, “GIs? What’re GIs doing here in the British sector, do you know?”

“Maybe not,” Bodine guesses, “maybe only Shore Patrol, c’mon, let’s not get any more paranoid than we have to….”

“Look, see, I’m doing (snuff) it and I’m not growing (snuff) fangs or anything….”

“Well, I just don’t know,” Shirley kneeling backwards, breasts propped on the back of the seat, one big smooth country-girl hand on Slothrop’s shoulder for balance.

“Look,” Bodine sez, “is it currency, or dope, or what? I just like to know what to expect, cause if the heat’s on—”

“Only on me, far as I know. This is nothing to do with dealing, it’s a whole different drill.”

“She’s the rose of no-man’s laaaand,” sings Albert Krypton, coaxing.

“Why you going to Putzi’s?”

“Got to see that Springer.”

“Didn’t know he was coming in.”

“Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Rebebber, dow,” Shirley talking with only one nostril here, “dot too buch, Albert, just a teensy bit.”

“Just that nobody’s seen him for a while.”

“Be inhaling now, good, good, O.K., now. Umm, there’s a little still, uh, kind of a booger that’s blocking it… do it again, right. Now the other one.”

“Albert, you said only one.”

“Look, Rocky, if you do get busted—”

“Don’t want to think.”

“Jeepers,” sez Shirley.

“You like that? Here, just do a little more.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing. Wanted to talk to somebody at that SPOG. Find out what was happening. We were just supposed to talk, you know, off the record, tonight in the dispensary. Neutral ground. Instead The Man shows up. Now there are also these other two creeps in civvies.”

“You a spy, or something?”

“Wish I was even that. Oh boy. I should’ve known better.”