Then Creek lit up and Anna yelled at the man with the pig, ''Bring the pig.
Bring the pig this way… Bring the pig.'' The man saw them coming and walked toward them, and she had the Nagra's mike pointed at the squealing pig and Jason lit up.
The security guards saw the camera lights and the first one turned to the man trailing, yelled something to the other, who ran back up the hill. The first one continued down and shouted at Creek, ''Hey, no cameras here, no cameras.''
A group of masked women headed toward him, walled him off from the rest of the milling crowd, pushed him toward theramp. Frustrated, he climbed up the loading dock and hurried to the open door. Just as he was about to go through the door, he jumped back, and a young man in a blue oxford cloth shirt and jeans ran out of the building and headed toward the lights.
Anna said to the microphone, her voice calm, even, ''Creek, there's a kid coming in, watch him. Jason, stay with the pig.''
Creek back-pedaled. When Anna spoke into his ear, he'd looked up from his eyepiece and spotted the kid in the blue shirt: trouble, maybe. Trouble made good movies. The kid was striding toward them, a dark smear under his nose, one hand cupping his jaw. He seemed to be crying.
''They were gonna kill this pig, for nothing-for soap tests or something, shampoo,'' the masked pig-man shouted at Jason's camera. The pig was freaking out, long shrieking bleats, like a woman being stabbed. ''She's gonna live now,'' pigman shouted as the pig struggled against him. ''She's gonna live.''
The patio was chaos, with the cameras and the pig-man, the women with cages, all swirling around: Blue shirt arrived and Anna saw that he was crying, tears running down his cheeks as Creek tracked him with the lens. The dark smear was blood, which streamed from his nose and across his lips and chin.
''Give me that pig,'' the kid screamed, and he ran at the pig-man. ''Gimme that.'' The animal women blocked him out, not hitting him, just body-blocking.
Both Creek and Jason tracked the twirling scrum while Anna tried to stay out of their line; she kept the Nagra pointed, picking up the overall noise, which could be laid back into the tape later, if needed.
The Bee caught Anna's arm: ''He's just a flunky, forget him,'' she shouted over the screams and grunting of the struggle. ''But we're gonna do the mice now. Get the mice, in the garbage cans.''
The women with the blue garbage cans were waiting their turn with the lights, and Anna spoke into the mike again: ''Jason, get out of there. Go over to those blue garbage cans, they're full of mice, they're gonna turn them loose.'' Jason took a step back, lifted his head, spotted the garbage cans. ''Creek, stay with the kid,'' Anna said. ''Stay with the kid.''
As Jason came up, the women with the garbage can, who'd been waiting, popped the lid and tipped it, and two or three hundred mice, some black, some white, some tan, scurried down the sides and ran out onto the patio, looked around, and headed for the nearest piece of cover.
Jason hung close and then the kid in the blue shirt went that way, screaming,
''Gimme those,'' and sobbing, tried to corral the mice. They were everywhere, running over his feet, over his hands, avoiding him, making the break. He finally gave up and slumped on the ground, his head in his hands, the mice all around.
Jeez: this was almost too good, Anna thought.
As Creek tracked him, the Bee was back with her nagging voice: ''Do you want an on-camera statement?''
And Anna thought, Who's running this thing? But she had to smile at the other woman's effective management: ''Yeah, but we'd better hurry,'' Anna said. ''The cops'll be coming.''
Anna said into the mike, ''Jason, get on the Bee, she'll make a statement.'' She pushed the mike up, raised her voice, shouted, ''Rat, where are you?''
The man with the pig turned toward her. ''I'm the Rat,'' he said. His teeth were bared, his face spotted with what looked like mud but could be pig shit.
''We're gonna need you over here: we need a comment,'' Anna said.
''No problem,'' he said. He handed the struggling pig to awoman. ''What exactly do you want?'' The Rat had a deep, smooth voice, a singer's baritone, and showed square white teeth and a California surfer-boy cleft chin beneath the black mask.
''Just tell us why you did it,'' Anna said, nodding at Jason's camera.
He leaned forward and stage-whispered, ''For the publicity.''
Anna grinned back and said, ''Tell that to the camera.''
Jason yelled, ''Hey, Rat: You wanna do this, or what?'' As the Rat and the Bee talked to Jason's camera, Anna pulled the mike down in front of her face and said, ''Creek, let's talk to the kid. Let me in there first.''
Creek hung back a couple of steps so the camera wouldn't be right in the kid's face. Anna squatted next to him and patted him on the shoulder. ''Are you okay?''
The kid looked up, dazed, a pale teenage child with brown eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. ''What?''
''Are you okay?'' Anna asked again.
''They're gonna fire me,'' he said. He looked back at the building. ''I was supposed to watch them. They were my responsibility, the animals. I was supposed to keep everybody out, but they came in so fast…''
''How'd you get the bloody nose?'' Anna asked.
''I tried to hold the door, but they kicked through. Then about four of them held me and I couldn't get to the phone, and they tipped everything over in the lab, all the animal cages, everything.'' He touched his face. ''I think the door hit me…''
''Look, there's gonna be two sides to this,'' Anna said. She looked back at
Creek, and said, ''Creek.''
Creek stepped away, spotted a mouse looking at him from the top of the loading dock and closed in on it. Behind him, the Bee and the Rat were still talking to
Jason's camera; thepig was still struggling with the woman who'd taken it, but the squealing had stopped, and the scene was almost quiet.
Anna turned back to the kid and continued, ''The animal rights guys will be heroes to some people. And some people will be heroes to the scientific community.''
She patted his thigh. ''Now, go like this. From your nose.'' She made an upward rubbing gesture with her hand, on her own face.
The kid gulped. ''Why?''
''Want to keep your job?'' Anna grinned at him. She was a small woman, dark-haired, with an oval face and flax-blue eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses: she had an effect on young males. ''Be a hero. Smear a little blood around your face and we'll put you on camera, telling your side. Believe me, they won't fire you.''
''I need the job,'' the kid said tentatively.
''Smear a little blood and stand up… what's your name?''
The kid was no dummy: He'd been born in front of a TV set. He wiped blood up his cheek and said, ''Charles McKinley… How do I look?'' His cheek looked like a raw sirloin.
''Great.''
Her cell phone rang. She unclipped it and stepped away. ''Yeah.''
Louis, calling from the truck seventy-five feet away, excited: ''Jesus, Anna, we got a jumper on Wilshire, he's on a ledge.''
''Where?'' A basic rule: everything happened at once. Anna looked back at the two interviews, calculating.
''I don't know, somewhere on Wilshire, close, I think. I'm getting the address up.''
''Get it now,'' Anna rapped. Very tense: a jumper would make everything. The networks, CNN, everything-if they got the jump. She could hear Louis tapping on the laptop keys, where he kept the address database. ''C'mon, c'mon.''
''I'm getting it…''
''How're we doing on the cops here?''
''You got a couple-three minutes, I just heard the call.''
''Get the address, Louis.''
''I'm hurrying.''
Anna turned to Creek: ''Get ready to wrap it up.''
And to the kid, ''Cops'll be here to help, minute or two.'' Louis came back on the phone: ''Jesus, Anna, it's just down the street, we're a half-mile out. And he's still up there.''
Anna spoke into the mike, her voice urgent: ''Jason, Creek. Back in the truck.
Now! Kill the lights. Move it!''