Perhaps.

Yeah. Mm-hmm.

Mmm ! Really. All right.

Yeah ? Oh, yeah, yeah. Oh, yeah.

Okay. Bye.

- That was headquarters. They want me to-- - Ahem.

[ Coins Clatter On Ground ]

[ Whispers ] Thank you.

They want me to go to Las Vegas at once...

make contact with a Portuguese photographer named Lacerda.

He'll have all the details.

All l have to do is check into my soundproof suite. He'll seek me out.

- What do you think ? - Sounds like real trouble.

You're gonna need plenty of legal advice before this thing is over.

Oh, yeah.

As your attorney, l advise you to rent a fast car with no top.

And you'll need the cocaine.

Tape recorder for special music.

Acapulco shirts.

Get the hell out of L.A. for at least 48 hours.

- Blows my weekend. - Why ?

'Cause, naturally, l'm gonna have to go with you.

We're gonna have to arm ourselves to the teeth.

Well, why not ?

l mean, if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right.

This is the American Dream in action.

Wait !

Shit, we'd be fools not to ride this strange torpedo all the way out to the end.

lndeed. We must do it.

What kind of story is this ?

lt's the Mint 400...

the richest off-road race for motorcycles and dune buggies in the history of organized sport.

lt's a fantastic spectacle...

in honor of some fatback grosero...

who owns the luxurious Mint Hotel in downtown Las Vegas.

At least that's what the press release says.

As your attorney, l advise you to buy a motorcycle.

How else can you cover a thing like this righteously ?

Well, we're gonna have to drum it up on our own.

Pure Gonzo iournalism.

[ Tires Screeching ]

Shit !