Part 4 (2/2)

”Then Janglish would've had to be here to make sure I didn't have any unscheduled fun.”

”Oh, Murk's not that bad,” Nguyen murmured, ”for a stone-hearted workaholic. You took a nosegay? We'll be parking right next to Stink Central.”

Wetherall slipped into the driver's seat in front of us and strapped himself in. ”About twenty minutes ago. When I was a kid I used to grow orchids. I had this one cattleya, Bealls Red. It was dark as blood and had a fragrance big enough to fill a room.” He took a deep breath. ”That's what I'm getting now.” He leaned back in his seat, eyes glazing momentarily at the memory. ”The nosegays are an extraordinary accomplishment. A shame we have to hold them off the market.”

”You're not going to sell them?” I said. ”But think of the applications.”

Wetherall punched the code that started up the turbine. ”Liz, the big stink is my fence; it's how I'm going to keep the world out. Why would I pull that fence down after I've gone to all this trouble to acquire it?”

The arrogance of the man made me momentarily dizzy. Or maybe it was the swelter in the cab. I could feel sweat tickle down my side.

”Doesn't that beard make you warm, Wetherall?” I said. ”I thought you liked life on ice.”

”It is a little close in here.” Nguyen swabbed his forehead with a b.u.t.ter-colored handkerchief.

”Oh, my clothes are air-conditioned,” he said. ”I couldn't think straight without them.”

Wetherall, Nguyen and I giggled like kids as the s.h.i.+tdog chased us. Of course, Wetherall's nosegays had something to do with our delight. We sat strapped into seats underneath a nuglas bubble. The base roared across the salt flat on its six treads, kicking up scuffs of salt and sand and sc.r.a.ps of the low, dry junipers that grew here and there in the basin. We were headed away from the Stateline A pile; the s.h.i.+tdog galloped in its ungainly way behind us like a nightmare rocking horse. As we drove, we fired a simulation tracking beam up at a helicopter that was standing-in for Wetherall's future house. So far, so good-no matter our position or speed, the beam remained unbroken.

Our initial approach hadn't aroused their interest. They ignored us as we zoomed around the pile, and they ignored us when we idled a few yards away from them. They hadn't even sniffed at the mobile base, let alone nibbled. That was when Wetherall brought out a smart la.s.so. As we pulled alongside one he opened the window, leaned out, swung four big loops and let it fly. The running noose slithered over the s.h.i.+tdog's head. Wetherall tied the end to the armrest on the door and then stomped on the brakes.

We lost the door but had finally provoked one into chasing us.

It smelled like heaven's own bakery. ”Chocolate-covered raspberries!” shouted Wetherall. ”Bittersweet chocolate, I mean.”

”Chai tea, with plenty of honey and b.u.t.termilk,” corrected Nguyen. ”And perhaps a crumb of pistachio baklava, too.”

Myself, I kept catching smell-glimpses of Billybars and Charley Chuncolate Cones. Why should activating my odor-pleasure centers recall Jolly Freeze products? Those were Wetherall's positive smell a.s.sociations, not mine.

”Liz.” Wetherall touched my wrist. ”Do you think it's angry at us?”

I turned to the beast that galumphed patiently after us. ”Who can say? We've hardly worked out their vocabulary of expressions-short of barking at the Chileans that one time, they don't have any. It certainly seems more sporting than angry, though. Wouldn't you agree?”

”Yes,” said Wetherall. ”Though I could be projecting. That is to say, sporting is the perfect word for how I feel. Our mobile base is going to work just fine, isn't it?”

”All the data is not yet in,” Nguyen said. He glanced at me significantly. I guessed he was waiting for me to mention the changes I'd observed. ”Remember, the real base is going to be towing a house six times the ma.s.s of Laputa. That will reduce maneuverability significantly.”

”Nevertheless-”

As they debated, it occurred to me that we'd stumbled onto something that would make a tourist attraction if the word got out-s.h.i.+tdog-wrangling. The nosegays added a certain essential elan to it all. I was sure a lot of people would pay handsomely for the fun we were having. The tickets we could sell would pay for a dozen Laputas. But with Wetherall's deep pockets and craving for privacy, I doubted whether anyone but him would ever sample this novelty.

That night, Wetherall stayed with us for the first time. Nguyen had Laputa towed to where Wetherall's lifthouse was under construction. Since this site was almost three kilometers closer to the piles, we had to double our dosage of nosegays to cope with the big stink.

Over dinner, Wetherall was talkative and charming, Nguyen was taciturn. Finally he spoke. ”Perhaps it's time to name your house, Wetherall?”

”How about Queen Jolly Freeze?” I said. ”Pretend it's just a floating ice cream truck. That way no one will guess it's where you live.” This time I wanted Nguyen to turn and wink, laugh with me at this ludicrous man. But he ignored me.

Wetherall was busy fantasizing about his house. ”When we run the first test, I want to be on board,” he said. ”Let's take it over pile A, so I can try the viewing room. If we need to make any adjustments, I want them done as soon as possible.”

”You sure you can steel yourself to look down from such a height?” said Nguyen.

”At least there, I'll have something worth looking at.”

”All right,” sighed Nguyen. ”I suppose it's time I see these jewels for myself.”

Wetherall looked shocked. ”You haven't seen them yet!”

”I've been busy,” Nguyen said. ”Other matters required my attention.”

”My G.o.d, Nguyen,” said Wetherall. ”The jewels are what this is all about.”

”For you.” He sighed. ”Oh, I've looked at pixes. They're admirable.

”You may not be the sort of person they are designed for,” I said.

Wetherall picked up on that instantly. ”What do you mean?”

I did not want to spill the beans on my theory so soon. ”Nothing. Just that the jewels seem to fascinate some people more than others.”

”Like Wetherall and you?” Nguyen said.

”And Thorp,” Wetherall added.

I laughed. ”Let's leave him out of this.”

”Why did you call them s.h.i.+tdogs, Liz?” Nguyen asked. ”Aren't you embara.s.sed to be studying something called a s.h.i.+tdog?”

”The Marines named them. n.o.body asked me, ” I said. It was a sore subject, so I changed it. ”What about that name for your house?”

”If that's what you want,” said Wetherall. ”Queen Jolly Freeze will do nicely.”

As dinner went on, Nguyen became increasingly quiet. He hadn't been eating well of late, he told us, because everything tasted like boiled potatoes.

”It's true,” said Wetherall, digging a spoon into a melting scoop of Mintastic. ”Even my private blend of Jolly Freeze has clearly suffered flavor degradation. But they tell me it's temporary. Don't worry, your taste buds will bloom again, Nguyen. Besides, it's a small price to pay for the jewels-and all this emptiness.”

”As rewarding as this project has been,” said Nguyen wearily, ”I begin to look forward to its completion.”

At that, I felt a vague dismay. Without noticing, I'd gotten used to Nguyen O'Hara's company, his dark, ironic presence.

He stood abruptly, muttered something about running some simulations and was gone before either of us could protest. Wetherall and I looked at each other across the table, then I glanced quickly down at my plate. Being stranded for the evening with the Emperor of Ice Cream was not what I'd had in mind.

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