freaking out over nothing," the voice sighed over the phone. "You're making this too complicated."
Joe's molars ground sharply, once. The person on the other end knew the sound and knew what it meant. She wasn't surprised at the icicle of fear that shimmied up her spine.
"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm tired and irritable. Of course, you're not freaking out."
"You say stuff to me sometimes that's worse than you think it is."
"I apologized already," she growled. "don't push it."
They were both silent for a moment.
"Did you think about maybe, like, poisoning the groundwater or something like that. Some ecological problem? They're big on that shit in the Northwest," she mused.
"Y'know," Joe sighed, "on T.V., I see these guys like me who have contacts and resources in every city on earth. It makes me laugh out loud. Guys like me only keep on working if we don't make contacts. There is no way for me to lay hands on a barrel of P.C.B.'s, arsenic, mercury, or anything else that would foul the groundwater without leaving a trail of some kind. Mail to a blind box can still be traced. I can't pick anything up because I'll be seen. I can't steal the shit—even if I knew where to steal it—without a serious risk of being caught or leaving a stray clue. I have exactly three resources and two of those are on the phone right now."
"Look," she said wearily. "You're probably not going to find a perfect solution. Your objective is too restrictive. You've got…what is it? A spa?"
"A resort development," he rumbled. "Huge deal, lotsa rich tourists, layout that covers about 20 square miles."
"You want to keep that house," she sighed. "Why not just move?"
"Because I like this place," he snapped. "It's perfect. It gives me…I dunno, peace…in my mind. I don't know. I just know that it's the only place I've ever thought of as home."
"Listen to yourself," she said urgently. "I don't know where this is coming from, but it's not your head."
"I've come to think, lately, that maybe my head's not all that matters. Maybe…there's something more."
She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, Joe could hear the resignation in her voice.
"Okay," she breathed. "So, what now?"
"I wish I had never heard him out in the first place," Joe mumbled.
"You called him," she said simply. "How could you not? It's your oldest habit."
"You never liked him."
"Shit," she snorted. "Was it a secret? I told him that on the phone."
"He always said that he and I, if you looked at us separately, we're barely acceptable human beings," Joe mused.
"He was trying to recruit you," she grumbled. "Stupid ass. He's the one who can't function in society. If he weren't loaded and able to build a wall around himself, he'd fold like an umbrella. You're different. You can function but you don't want to."
"No," Joe replied, "I don't. I want nothing more than to live right up on this ridge and never speak to another human being again, with the possible exception of you."
"Well, if a 'possible exception' is all I can be, I'll take it," she chuckled. "Y'know, there is that one thing that makes sense."
"What?"
"You get rid of the thing by making it too much trouble."
"But that's what I just told you I can't do," he sighed.
"Well," she murmured, "there's all kinds of trouble."
"Huh?" he snorted. "What does that mean?"
"What are you good at, Joe?" she chuckled dryly. "Mixing it up with the E.P.A.? Stealing chemicals? To my knowledge, Joseph, there is one brand of trouble at which you are a world-class expert."
There was an electric silence across the faint crackle of the satellite connection.
"Go on," Joe said softly.
The sun was just beginning to seep through the pines when he finally looked up from the computer screen. Threads of pale gold lit the blue-grey of the pre-dawn mists as Joe wandered out onto his porch, yawning and
Joe's molars ground sharply, once. The person on the other end knew the sound and knew what it meant. She wasn't surprised at the icicle of fear that shimmied up her spine.
"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm tired and irritable. Of course, you're not freaking out."
"You say stuff to me sometimes that's worse than you think it is."
"I apologized already," she growled. "don't push it."
They were both silent for a moment.
"Did you think about maybe, like, poisoning the groundwater or something like that. Some ecological problem? They're big on that shit in the Northwest," she mused.
"Y'know," Joe sighed, "on T.V., I see these guys like me who have contacts and resources in every city on earth. It makes me laugh out loud. Guys like me only keep on working if we don't make contacts. There is no way for me to lay hands on a barrel of P.C.B.'s, arsenic, mercury, or anything else that would foul the groundwater without leaving a trail of some kind. Mail to a blind box can still be traced. I can't pick anything up because I'll be seen. I can't steal the shit—even if I knew where to steal it—without a serious risk of being caught or leaving a stray clue. I have exactly three resources and two of those are on the phone right now."
"Look," she said wearily. "You're probably not going to find a perfect solution. Your objective is too restrictive. You've got…what is it? A spa?"
"A resort development," he rumbled. "Huge deal, lotsa rich tourists, layout that covers about 20 square miles."
"You want to keep that house," she sighed. "Why not just move?"
"Because I like this place," he snapped. "It's perfect. It gives me…I dunno, peace…in my mind. I don't know. I just know that it's the only place I've ever thought of as home."
"Listen to yourself," she said urgently. "I don't know where this is coming from, but it's not your head."
"I've come to think, lately, that maybe my head's not all that matters. Maybe…there's something more."
She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, Joe could hear the resignation in her voice.
"Okay," she breathed. "So, what now?"
"I wish I had never heard him out in the first place," Joe mumbled.
"You called him," she said simply. "How could you not? It's your oldest habit."
"You never liked him."
"Shit," she snorted. "Was it a secret? I told him that on the phone."
"He always said that he and I, if you looked at us separately, we're barely acceptable human beings," Joe mused.
"He was trying to recruit you," she grumbled. "Stupid ass. He's the one who can't function in society. If he weren't loaded and able to build a wall around himself, he'd fold like an umbrella. You're different. You can function but you don't want to."
"No," Joe replied, "I don't. I want nothing more than to live right up on this ridge and never speak to another human being again, with the possible exception of you."
"Well, if a 'possible exception' is all I can be, I'll take it," she chuckled. "Y'know, there is that one thing that makes sense."
"What?"
"You get rid of the thing by making it too much trouble."
"But that's what I just told you I can't do," he sighed.
"Well," she murmured, "there's all kinds of trouble."
"Huh?" he snorted. "What does that mean?"
"What are you good at, Joe?" she chuckled dryly. "Mixing it up with the E.P.A.? Stealing chemicals? To my knowledge, Joseph, there is one brand of trouble at which you are a world-class expert."
There was an electric silence across the faint crackle of the satellite connection.
"Go on," Joe said softly.
The sun was just beginning to seep through the pines when he finally looked up from the computer screen. Threads of pale gold lit the blue-grey of the pre-dawn mists as Joe wandered out onto his porch, yawning and
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