insecticides on anything you smoke,” Toby told him, “especially when you’re calling it organic.” He rocked his shoulders, and slabs of muscle shifted beneath his shirt. “Seeing how the room is sealed, we can up the CO2 levels to ten thousand parts per million for forty-five minutes. If that doesn’t work we’ll bring in ladybugs.”
“Beautiful,” Madeline said. “Then you’ll have another infestation.”
“They’re easy to vacuum.” Toby grinned. “Then you just seal the bag and store them in the fridge till you need ’em again.”
“We cool, Madness?” Fisher thumbed through a roll of hundreds. “It’s my fault,” he said, lip-counting to twelve. “We’ll get you everything you need by Wednesday. Cool?”
She didn’t concede anything, though her anger was dissipatingfaster than she would have liked. What she desired now was a peaceful exit, without telling anyone off, without even admitting she was
out
.
“What do you think of Fisher’s ducks?” Toby asked.
“Ingenious.”
Fisher turned to Toby. “You said you loved the idea.”
“A few ducks, sure.” He carefully applied ChapStick. “But you got a marching band out here.”
“You start harvesting yet?” Fisher asked Madeline.
“Uh-huh.”
“Pretty sweet buds, eh?”
“Not really.”
Fisher acted like he hadn’t heard. “Toby handles all the loads.”
“Yeah?” Madeline slid the thick fold of hundreds into a back pocket and inched toward the door.
“Fifty-nine by land,” Toby said, “eighteen by air, six by sea. And I’ve overseen three times that many.”
The more specific the details, Madeline’s father had taught her, the more thorough the lies.
“Any close calls?” Fisher asked.
She wanted to spare them the recruitment routine but couldn’t bring herself to interrupt.
“People only get caught if they’re reckless or wasted.” Toby raised a thick eyebrow. “It’s not something you do stoned or out of shape. Fact is, even morons usually don’t get caught unless they pull up to Peace Arch when the drug dogs are out. Then anyone’s screwed. Their best dogs can smell a seed beneath your floor mat when you roll by at twenty.”
Madeline liked his voice. Maybe she was overreacting to a few gnat bites. Who knew better than her that only dumbshits got caught crossing a ditch she’d lived alongside most of her life? And she
did
just get paid, didn’t she? And when you compared it to nursery money …
“There are always risks.” Toby bounced from flexed quad to flexed quad. “But do you think the guy who buys a 7-Eleven or opens a bar doesn’t have risks? Or the logger? The crabber? Think they aren’t gambling?I’ve got my worries, but I own three houses outright and I’ve got two good lawyers if problems arise.”
“If you’ve already got three houses,” Madeline asked, “why still mess with all this?”
“It’s my profession. I take pride in mine just as an engineer or carpenter or doctor takes pride in his. I drive this stretch of the border ten times a week. I talk to hunters, hikers and tugboat captains. And I probably know enough about dairy and raspberry farming to pinch-hit at either. I also know the names and habits of at least half the residents—their dogs, too—along Zero and Boundary.”
She noticed that his tiny teeth looked out of place on his broad face, and realized she was taking mental notes for Sophie Winslow. What an odd request—Sophie pulling her aside after that bizarre bunco gathering to ask her to help keep her informed. About what? “About everything, hon.” She got so close Madeline could smell the wine on her breath. “What you see and hear. I collect all the details.” Then she’d cupped the back of Madeline’s skull and kissed her nose, as if blessing her.
“I chart the weather and the tides and how bright the moon’s likely to be on any given night,” Toby went on. “And I use spotters with Gen Three night goggles and surveillance scopes.
“Beautiful,” Madeline said. “Then you’ll have another infestation.”
“They’re easy to vacuum.” Toby grinned. “Then you just seal the bag and store them in the fridge till you need ’em again.”
“We cool, Madness?” Fisher thumbed through a roll of hundreds. “It’s my fault,” he said, lip-counting to twelve. “We’ll get you everything you need by Wednesday. Cool?”
She didn’t concede anything, though her anger was dissipatingfaster than she would have liked. What she desired now was a peaceful exit, without telling anyone off, without even admitting she was
out
.
“What do you think of Fisher’s ducks?” Toby asked.
“Ingenious.”
Fisher turned to Toby. “You said you loved the idea.”
“A few ducks, sure.” He carefully applied ChapStick. “But you got a marching band out here.”
“You start harvesting yet?” Fisher asked Madeline.
“Uh-huh.”
“Pretty sweet buds, eh?”
“Not really.”
Fisher acted like he hadn’t heard. “Toby handles all the loads.”
“Yeah?” Madeline slid the thick fold of hundreds into a back pocket and inched toward the door.
“Fifty-nine by land,” Toby said, “eighteen by air, six by sea. And I’ve overseen three times that many.”
The more specific the details, Madeline’s father had taught her, the more thorough the lies.
“Any close calls?” Fisher asked.
She wanted to spare them the recruitment routine but couldn’t bring herself to interrupt.
“People only get caught if they’re reckless or wasted.” Toby raised a thick eyebrow. “It’s not something you do stoned or out of shape. Fact is, even morons usually don’t get caught unless they pull up to Peace Arch when the drug dogs are out. Then anyone’s screwed. Their best dogs can smell a seed beneath your floor mat when you roll by at twenty.”
Madeline liked his voice. Maybe she was overreacting to a few gnat bites. Who knew better than her that only dumbshits got caught crossing a ditch she’d lived alongside most of her life? And she
did
just get paid, didn’t she? And when you compared it to nursery money …
“There are always risks.” Toby bounced from flexed quad to flexed quad. “But do you think the guy who buys a 7-Eleven or opens a bar doesn’t have risks? Or the logger? The crabber? Think they aren’t gambling?I’ve got my worries, but I own three houses outright and I’ve got two good lawyers if problems arise.”
“If you’ve already got three houses,” Madeline asked, “why still mess with all this?”
“It’s my profession. I take pride in mine just as an engineer or carpenter or doctor takes pride in his. I drive this stretch of the border ten times a week. I talk to hunters, hikers and tugboat captains. And I probably know enough about dairy and raspberry farming to pinch-hit at either. I also know the names and habits of at least half the residents—their dogs, too—along Zero and Boundary.”
She noticed that his tiny teeth looked out of place on his broad face, and realized she was taking mental notes for Sophie Winslow. What an odd request—Sophie pulling her aside after that bizarre bunco gathering to ask her to help keep her informed. About what? “About everything, hon.” She got so close Madeline could smell the wine on her breath. “What you see and hear. I collect all the details.” Then she’d cupped the back of Madeline’s skull and kissed her nose, as if blessing her.
“I chart the weather and the tides and how bright the moon’s likely to be on any given night,” Toby went on. “And I use spotters with Gen Three night goggles and surveillance scopes.
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