Deeply Odd(59)

“Good glass,” I said.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

“One-Ear Bob?”

“Absolutely.”

We left the snakes behind.

Mrs. Fischer eased up on the accelerator.

I said, “You ever heard of snakes attacking a car?”

“No, never.”

“Me neither. I wonder why they would.”

“I wonder, too. And I don’t believe a snake can spring that far.”

“The length of its body, ma’am.”

“These came farther than that.”

“I sort of thought so, too.”

Bullets of rain broke against the armored glass.

“Have you ever eaten rattlesnake, dear?”

“No, ma’am.”

“It tastes good if you prepare it right.”

“I’m a little bit of a finicky eater.”

“I sympathize. The taste of lamb makes me gag.”

“Lambs are too cute to eat,” I said.

“Exactly. You can’t eat too-cute animals. Like kittens.”

“Or dogs. Cows are nice, but they’re not cute.”

“They’re not,” she agreed. “Neither are chickens.”

“Pigs are a little bit cute.”

Mrs. Fischer disagreed. “Only in some movies like Babe and Charlotte’s Web. Those are fairy-tale pigs, not real pigs.”

Neither of us spoke for a minute, listening to the rain drumming on the limousine, seeming to float through the night, and finally I said, “So when we finish whatever business we’re doing at Mazie’s, is there another route out or do we have to come back along this track?”

“There’s just this one. But not to worry, child. I don’t believe snakes have the capacity to strategize. Anyhow, doing what you have to do, always and without complaint—that’s the way.”

“That’s the way, huh?”

“That’s the way,” she confirmed.

A pair of thirty-foot Joshua trees appeared on each side of the road, eerie figures in the storm, less suggestive of trees than of blind creatures that might prowl the floor of an ocean, ceaselessly combing scents and tastes and, ultimately, small fish from the deep cold currents. They had been named by Mormon settlers, who thought these strange giants appeared to be warriorlike but also to be raising their arms beseechingly to Heaven, just as Joshua did at the battle of Jericho.

Easing off the accelerator again, Mrs. Fischer gestured toward the trees. “Even in daylight they look real, but they aren’t.”

“They aren’t Joshua trees? Then what are they, ma’am?”

As we coasted forward, she said, “Just try to ram the gate, and you’ll find out.”

A nine-foot chain-link barrier, topped with coils of concertina wire with razor-sharp projections, loomed out of the rain, and Mrs. Fischer braked to a stop before it.

Fixed to the gate, a large ominous metal sign featured a skull and crossbones in each corner. Red letters warned: EXTREME DANGER / BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH STATION / VIRAL DISEASES / FLESH-EATING BACTERIA / TOXIC SUBSTANCES / DEADLY MOLDS / DISEASE-BEARING TEST ANIMALS / ADMITTANCE ONLY TO PROPERLY INOCULATED PERSONNEL. Those words were repeated at the bottom of the sign in Spanish.

Mrs. Fischer said, “That’s just Mazie and Kipp’s way of saying ‘Private property, keep out.’ ”

“Probably works. Who’s Kipp?”

“Her husband. You’ll love him.”

“I thought it was just her and her two sons.”

“Well, dear, she’s a woman, not a paramecium. She didn’t just split in two a couple of times to produce Tracker and Leander.”

“Ma’am, the way things have been going lately, I take nothing for granted.”

From her purse, she retrieved her cell phone and placed a call. “Hi, Mazie. It’s Lulu from Tuscaloosa.” She waved at the gate, which I took to mean that a concealed camera was trained on the windshield. “Well, he’s my new chauffeur.” She reached out to pinch my cheek. “Yes, he’s adorable.”

Because it seemed to be the polite thing to do, I waved at the camera, wondering if it could detect the blush of my embarrassment.

Mrs. Fischer said, “Oh, that’s just because he dawdles. And since we’ve got an emergency we have to get to, I took the wheel.” She listened for a moment, said, “Thank you, Mazie, you’re a sweetheart,” and terminated the call.

I said, “Lulu from Tuscaloosa?”

As the gate began to roll aside, she said, “Oh, that’s just sort of my secret password. When you’re in the line of work that Mazie and Kipp are in, you need passwords and codes and cryptograms, that kind of thing.”

“What is their line of work?”