After altering their appearance, the two men ordered a cab under an assumed name and took it to a side entrance of a nearby Hilton hotel. They then passed through the lobby to the front of the hotel and convinced another cabbie to take them all the way to Connelly’s doctor friend. The cabbie had adamantly refused to drive this far until he was handed a stack of hundred dollar bills, after which he decided that the customer was always king, and he'd be happy to take them where they wanted to go.
Desh and Kira changed outfits as well. Desh was now wearing a pair of pre-faded jeans and a hooded, burgundy-and-gold Washington Redskins sweatshirt with oversized pockets. Kira replaced the tan jacket she had been wearing with a blue one of a different style, and her hair was now tucked up inside a Redskins ball cap. Both wore tennis shoes for comfort and mobility.
Whoever tracked them to the mall would expect their stay to be brief, just long enough so they could lose themselves among the crowd before racing off by cab or stolen car. The last thing anyone would expect them to do would be to loiter at the mall for several hours in plain sight, which is exactly why they planned to do so, leaving on a bus that wasn’t scheduled to depart for several hours yet.
Manor Hill had fourteen restaurants and a Food Court. They found an information booth and asked for a restaurant with a romantic ambiance; shorthand for one that was so poorly lighted they couldn’t be easily seen while inside. At the same time such lighting would allow them to readily see anyone entering the restaurant from the mall.
Twenty minutes later they were in a booth in the back of Montag’s Gourmet Pizza, a restaurant whose dusk-like level of lighting was unexpected in a pizza place, gourmet or otherwise, but was perfect for their needs.
The waiter noticed their matching Redskins attire from a distance and assumed they were on a date, but as he got a closer look at the grime and dense shadow of stubble on Desh’s face, he changed his mind. They must be married, he thought. No one on a date would have such little regard for personal hygiene.
Desh ordered a soda, Kira iced-tea, and they ordered a large pizza to split. Although Desh knew he had far more important things to worry about, sharing a pizza seemed too much like breaking bread with the devil for his taste; albeit a devil who had probably saved Connelly’s life. He remained determined to keep as much emotional distance from the woman across from him as he could manage.
When the waiter left, Desh stealthily drew his gun and hid it on his lap, under his oversized sweatshirt, with his finger on the trigger. He situated himself at an awkward angle in the booth so he could watch both Kira and the entrance to the restaurant as they spoke.
After the waiter returned with their drinks and then left again, Kira got right to the point. “I assume you remember where we were last night before we were, ah . . . interrupted?”
Desh nodded. It was hard to believe their discussion had taken place just the night before. “You can make yourself smarter, but when you do you turn into a psychopath.” As he spoke he continued to anxiously watch the entrance, scrutinizing anyone who approached the hostess podium and scanning all human mall traffic in his view.
“Who knew you had such a way with words,” said Kira. She smiled warmly. “That may be the most succinct summation in history.”
“We can’t be sure when we’ll be interrupted again,” said Desh icily, subconsciously trying to counter her warmth. “Since you’re so eager to convince me you’re not working with terrorists, let’s not waste any time.”
“Agreed,” said Kira soberly. She quickly gathered her thoughts. “I left off about two-and-a-half years after I joined NeuroCure,” she said. “When I had achieved my breakthrough. Do you have any questions about the treatment before I move on?”
Desh thought about this as he watched a group of teenaged girls stroll by the restaurant, wearing clothing that was several years too old for them along with a colorful assortment of flashy costume jewelry. “How long does the transformation last?” he asked.
“Only about an hour. I was afraid to make it last any longer. Not without better understanding the treatment and what it was doing to me.”
“Including your newfound admiration for the work of Nietzsche?”
“Yes.”
“I’m surprised the effect is so short.”
“It seems longer when you’re experiencing it. And at this level of intelligence, the number of insights you can have in a single hour is staggering. To make the effect permanent, I would need to make other modifications to the body. Even in an hour your body becomes depleted of the molecular precursors for neurotransmitters and you get a craving for glucose like you wouldn’t believe. After a transformation, I wouldn’t feel completely normal for days. I decided not to try it more than once a week, at most.”
Desh wondered if anything Smith had told him in the car was true. Since Kira had listened in to this entire conversation there was no reason to be coy. “So where did you decide to focus this towering IQ of yours?” he asked. “Smith said you were working on extending human life and eventually conquering mortality itself.”