Mirabile (3 page)

Susan held up her hand, finished off one last sequence of sneezes, then said, “What about your nap?”

“What do you think contemplative fishing ?”

is

“Oh. Right. Get Leo to take you, then. He knows all the best places.”

“I’d be honored,” Leo said.

We left Susan scrubbing her face. Pausing only to pick up poles in the hallway, we set off in silence along the footpath down to Loch Moose. When we got to the first parting of the path, I broke the silence. “Which way to your favorite spot?”

He pointed to the right fork. I’d figured as much. “Mine’s to the left,” I said and headed out that way. If Susan didn’t want me in my usual haunts, I wanted to know why. Leo followed without comment, so I knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Keep your ears open. I heard something before Susan started her ‘sneezing fit’

to cover it.”

We came to another parting in the path. I angled right and again he followed.

Pretty soon we were skidding and picking our way down the incline that led to the otters’

playground.

When we got to surer footing, Leo paused. “Annie—now that I’ve got somebody to ask: will you satisfy my curiosity?”

That peaked mine. “About what?”

“Was there such a thing as the Loch Ness monster? I always thought my mother had made it up.”

I laughed. “And I thought my granddaddy had, especially since he claimed that people came to Loch Ness from all over the Earth hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster! I looked it up once in ships’ records. There really was such a place and people really did come from everywhere for a look!”

He was as taken aback as I’d been, then he heard what I hadn’t said. “And the monster—was real? Did it look like any of the stories?”

it

“I never found out.”

“Pre-photograph?”

“No,” I said, “that was the odd thing about it. There were some fuzzy photos—old flat ones, from a period when everybody had photographic equipment—that might have been photos of anything. The story was that Nessie was very shy and the loch was too full of peat to get sonograms. Lots of excuses, no results.”

“Smoking too much weed, eh?”

“Lot of that going around,” I said. “But no, I suspect Nessie was exactly what granddaddy used her for—a story. What’s always fascinated me is that people went to look

!”

Quite unexpectedly, Leo chuckled. “You underestimate the average curiosity. I don’t think you appreciate how many people stayed glued to their TVs while you folks rounded up those kangaroo rexes. A little thrill is high entertainment.”

“The hell it is,” I said indignantly. “I oughta know: I do it for a living.

They didn’t get their boots chewed off by the damn things.”

“Exactly my point,” said Leo. “Scary but safe. Elly’s kids would be the first to tell you what a good combination that is. They watch their kangaroo rex tape about twice a week, and cheer for you every time.”

Some things I was better off not knowing, I thought. I sighed. Turning away from Leo, I got the full view of Loch Moose and its surroundings, which drew a second sigh—this time pure content.

The secret of its appeal was that despite the vast sparkle of sunlight that glittered off it, Loch Moose always felt hidden away—a place you and you alone were aware of.

It took me a while to remember that Leo was beside me. No, I take that back. I was aware that he was there all along, but he was as content as I to simply drink it all in without a word.

Sometime—when we were both done admiring the scene—we headed for the boats, by some sort of mutual agreement. I was liking Leo more and more. For another thing, the whistling of the otters made him smile.

The slope down to the boats was dotted with violets. Most of them were that almost fiery shade of blue that practically defines the species, but once in a while they came out white just for the surprise of it. Some were more surprising than white, though. Almost hidden in the deep shade was a small isolated patch of scarlet.

For the life of me, I couldn’t remember seeing any material on scarlet violets. I stooped for a closer look. Damned odd texture to the petals, too, like velvet.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Leo said. “Stop by my place while you’re here, and I’ll show you half an acre of them.”

I stood up to look him in the eye. “Popped up all at once? First time, this year?”

“No. I’ve been putting them in when I found them for, oh, three years now.”

“Oh, Leo. Half of Mirabile thinks everything’s going to sprout fangs and bite them and the other half doesn’t even take elementary precautions. Never ever transplant something red unless somebody’s done a workup on it first!”

He looked startled. “Are they dangerous?”

“Don’t you start!” Dammit, I’d done it—jumped on him with both feet. “Sorry.

I’m still fuming over those red daffodils, I guess.”

“Annie, I’m too damned old to worry about everything that flowers red. I took them for what my grandmother called ‘pansies.’ Much to her disappointment, she never could get any started on Mirabile. Maybe they aren’t, but that’s how I think of them. I’m going to hate it if you tell me I have to pull ’em out because they’re about to seed mosquitoes.”

And he’d never forgive me either, I could tell.

“We’ll get a sample on the way back, Leo. If there’s a problem, I’ll see if I can stabilize them for you.” He looked so surprised, I had to add, “Practical is not my only consideration. Never has been. ‘Pretty’ is just fine, provided I’ve got the time to spare.”

That satisfied him. He smiled all the way down to the edge of the water.

Two hands made light work of launching a boat and we paddled across to the sheltered cove I had always favored. I tied the boat to a low branch that overhung the water, dropped a naked hook into the loch, and leaned back. Leo did the same.

What I liked best about this spot, I think, was that it was the perfect view of the otters’

playground—without disturbing the play. It also meant I didn’t have to bring along treats for the little beggars. Susan had been feeding them since she was—oh—Jen’s age. They’d grown so used to it that they hustled the tourists now.

I didn’t believe in it myself, but as long as she didn’t overdo it to the point they couldn’t fend for themselves I wasn’t about to make a fuss. I think Susan knew that too. She had a better grasp of the principles than most adults I knew, aside from those on the team, of course.

The hillside and water were alive with the antics of the otters. Some rippled snake-like through the water. One chased one of those king-sized dragonflies. Two others tussled on the ridge and eventually threw themselves down the incline, tumbling over and over each other, to hit the water with a splash.

Leo touched my arm and pointed a little to the side. He was frowning. I turned to take it in and discovered there was an altercation going on, just below the surface of the water. This one was of a more serious nature.

“Odd,” I said, speaking aloud for the first time since we’d settled in. He nodded, and we both kept watching but there wasn’t anything to see except the occasional flick of a long muscular tail, the wild splash of water. A squeal of anger was followed by a squeal of distress and the combatants broke off, one of them hightailing it towards us.

I got only a glimpse as it passed us by but it seemed to me it was considerably bigger than its opponent. Biggest otter I’d seen, in fact. I wondered why it had run instead of the smaller one.

The smaller one was already back at play. Leo shrugged and grinned. “I thought mating season was over,” he said. “So did she, considering how she treated him.”

“Ah,” I said, “I missed the opening moves.”

We settled back again, nothing to perturb us but the otter follies, which brought us to laughter over and over again. We trusted nothing would interrupt that by tugging at our lines.

Shadow was beginning to lengthen across us. I knew we had another half hour before it would be too dark for us to make our way easily back up to the lodge.

“Leo,” I said, “want me to head in? Your way will be in shadows long before mine.”

“Staying the night at the lodge. I promised Elly I’d do some handiwork for her.

Besides, I could do with another of Chris’s meals.”

There was a stir and a series of splashes to our right, deep in the cove. That large otter, back with friends. There were two troops of them in the loch now. I made a mental note to make sure they weren’t overfishing the shrimp or the trout, then I made a second note to see if we couldn’t spread the otters to another lake as well.

The otters were pretty firmly established on Mirabile but it never hurt to start up another colony elsewhere.

I turned to get a better look, maybe count noses to get a rough estimate of numbers. I counted six, eight, nine separate ripples in the water. Something seemed a little off about them. I got a firm clamp on my suspicious mind and on the stories I’d heard all day and tried to take an unbiased look. They weren’t about to hold still long enough for me to get a fix on them through the branches and the shadows that were deepening by the moment.

One twined around an overhang. I could see the characteristic tail but its head was lost in a stand of water lilies. Good fishing there, I knew. The trout always thought they could hide in the water lilies and the otters always knew just where to find them.

Then I realized with a start that the water lilies were disappearing.

I frowned. I untied the boat and gestured for Leo to help me get closer. We grabbed at branches to pull the boat along as silently as possible. To no avail: with a sudden flurry of splashes all around, the otters were gone.

“Hell,” I said. I unshipped the oars and we continued on over. I was losing too much of the light. I thrust down into the icy water and felt around the stand of lilies, then I grabbed and yanked, splattering water all over Leo. He made not a word of complaint. Instead, he stuck a damp match into his shirt pocket and tried a second one. This one lit.

It told my eyes what my fingers had already learned: the water lily had been neatly chewed.

Several other leaves had been nipped off the stems as well—but at an earlier time, to judge from the way the stem had sealed itself. I dropped the plant back in the water and wiped my hands dry on my slacks.

Leo drowned the match and stuck it in his pocket with the first. It got suddenly very dark and very quiet on the loch.

I decided I didn’t want either of us out here without some kind of protective gear.

I reached for the overhang and shoved us back toward the sunlit side of the loch. It wasn’t until I’d unshipped my oar again that I got my second shock of the day.

That branch was the one I’d seen the otter twined around. That gave me a belated sense of scale.

The “otter” had been a good eight feet long!

I chewed on the thought all the way back to the lodge. Would have forgotten the violets altogether but for Leo’s refusal to let that happen. I put my pole back in its place and took the scarlet violet and its clump of earth from him. Spotted Susan and said, “Leo wants to see a gene-read. Can you have Chris send rock lobster for two up to my room?”

“It’s on its way.” She paused to glance at the violets. “Pretty,” she said, “I hope—”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Hey!” she said suddenly. “I thought you were here for a break?”

“How else can I lure Leo up to my room?”

“You could just invite him, Mama Jason. That’s what you’re always telling us: Keep it simple and straightforward…”

“I should keep my mouth shut.”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to eat your lobster.” With that as her parting shot, Susan vanished back into the dining room. I paused to poke my head around the corner—empty, just as Chris had predicted.

We climbed the stairs. I motioned Leo in, laid down the clump of violets and opened my gear.

“Violets first,” I said, “as long as we’re about to be interrupted.”

I took my sample and cued up the room computer, linked it to the one back at the lab. There was a message from Mike waiting. “The daffodils have perked up, so they look good,” it said,

“and the troops have returned from the Guernsey wars triumphant. We’ll call if we need you.

You do the same.”

“You forgot to say how your hand is, dummy,” I growled at the screen—then typed the same in, for him to find in the morning.

The first-level gene-read on the violets went fast. The hard part was running it through ships’

records looking for a match or a near match. I could let that run all night while I slept through it.

Susan brought the rock lobster and peered over my shoulder as she set it down.

“Mama Jason, I can keep an eye on that while you eat if you like.”

“Sure,” I said, getting up to give her the chair. Leo and I dug into our lobster, with an occasional glance at the monitor. “Watch this part, Leo,” I said. Susan had already finished the preliminary and was looking for any tacked-on genes that might be readable.

Susan’s fingers danced, then she peered at the screen like she was trying to see through it. Mike
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gets that same look. I suppose I do, too. “Mama Jason, I can’t see anything but the primary helix.”

“Okay.” Neither did I. “Try a match with violets.” To Leo, I added, “We might as well try the easy stuff first. Why run the all-night program if you don’t have to.” I ducked into the bathroom to wash rock lobster and butter off my fingers.

“No luck,” Susan called to me.

When I came out, Leo had disappointment written all over his face. “Buck up,” I said. “We’re not giving up that easily. Susan, ask the computer if it’s got a pattern for something called a ‘pansy’ or a ‘pansies.’”

“‘Pansy,’” said Leo and he spelled it for her.

It did. Luckily, that wasn’t one of the areas we’d lost data in. “Oh, Mama Jason!”

said Susan, “Will you look at that

?”

We had a match.

“Leo, you lucky dog!” I said. “Your grandma would be proud of you!”

His jaw dropped. “You mean—they really are pansies?”