EXT. THE ORDER NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS - DAY
Dallasandro's unmarked sedan passes through a side gate, then follows a winding road into a copse of trees and stops. The driver opens Napolitano's door and points to a narrow path through the foliage. Napolitano nods, then watches with concern as Dallesandro is driven off.
EXT. GROVE - ON THE ORDER GROUNDS - DAY
Napolitano moves toward an odd, egg-shaped structure. A CHEF, 35, toque and immaculate whites, with the manner and energy of Super Mario, bounds from the door.
Napolitano smiles dubiously and follows him inside.
INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - MINUTES LATER - DAY
A futuristic, egg-shaped room lit from a ceiling array of big plasma screens. Each features a slowly changing view of the cosmos -- distant galaxies, supernovae, star-birthing gas clouds. In the room's center, a table is set for two.
Clutching a Blackberry, Napolitano examines the room. Spotting a couple of video cameras but nothing else of interest, he sits down and types an email: Send car now to Order hq. rn
He looks up and stands as the Chef bursts out of the kitchen with a huge tray covered with dishes. Napolitano notices he's wearing food handler's gloves.
The chef unloads the dishes onto the table. Annoyed but tempted, Napolitano lifts a lid and sniffs appreciatively.
Napolitano pulls the lid from another dish and gapes.