Osnat, you are asking, at this point, âWhy is Yigal so poor? Canât he stay in hotels and ride the train? Isnât he a senior agent for a black-budget super-secret all-powerful worldwide network of maverick spymasters?â But please remember that Yigal was traveling incognito. It isnât so hardâyou can tell your name to anyone you want and say exactly what youâre doing, but you have to remember not to use credit cards. Yigal was an experienced super-spy, so he remembered. He had lots of money left, but he had an idea he might want it for something before he got to Lindau. He was thinking of buying a tent. In Lindau he could pick up a lot of money heâd mailed himself in a cardboard box. There was a pleasant little jazz bar there, where they knew him, the Fischerin. They were always extra nice to him because they figured he was an ecstasy dealer.
At the edge of the village was a tall forest bordered by a deep meadow. He took a few steps into the wet grass, thenlooked down with a sinking feeling. How come I always forget? he thought. Every time Iâm in Northern Europe itâs the same damn thing. He slid forward, grimacing. The meadow was knee-deep in slugs, each under its own blade of grass, oozing a slime that wouldnât wash offâwater would just spread it aroundâhis boots would dry silver white. He had never seen the banana slug of the Pacific Northwest, but he knew a slug so conspicuous and easy to avoid could not possibly be more revolting than the endless millions, living and dead, under and around his feet in this one idyllic Swabian pasture. He had heard that New Zealand harbors a snail so large it fills the evolutionary niche normally occupied by . . . he tried to rememberâhe recalled vaguely that the New Zealand grasshopper is so big that it functions as a mouse, but couldnât remember what the snail does. In any case, itâs a foot long, and he had no plans to visit New Zealand.
The desert is so clean and pure, he thought. I should take the M16 and drive down the Egyptian border to where the mountains look like bare, golden, freshly swept stairs. As a rotting log broke open under his foot, revealing a wet safety-orange slime mold, he thought of the dry, delicate geckos that used to run across his kitchen ceiling, and of miniature blue-black birds flashing like obsidian against the dusty green of feral geraniums in the backyard. Then he remembered that if he went home, he would have to report in. What will I tell Rafi? Rafi, itâs like this: Iâve narrowed down the search to two familiesâtwo clans, that isâtwo countries: Laos and Iceland. Iâm certain the heir will be found in one of those two places, in a remote cliffside cave where I can say I did it, collect the bounty and get the hell off this ridiculous project which is destroying my career and all my relationships. I just know if I werenât always traveling, Nofar would go out withme. I feel like a sailor. Itâs no wonder she wonât give me the time of day . . .
Yigal found a logging road and stopped to scrape his soles on the gravel. He realized that the slugs must once have had a predator, now extinct. He imagined the unicorns using their horns to lift the meadow thatch and reveal the slugs below, then eagerly munching them with their strong teeth and coarse tongues. What horror the virgins must have felt when the unicorns laid their slimy chins and stiff beards in their laps, how they screamed for the huntsman to come quickly, then the purely decorative nature of the roast unicorn centerpiece, its inedible meat slippery as okra. In his mindâs eye, he saw the male unicornsâ vicious battles for possession of the richest meadows and creek bottoms, where long brown slugs grew thick and fast as mushrooms.
He closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere near Beâer Sheva in a field of crispy weeds and Roman coins, then sat down in the road to check
At the edge of the village was a tall forest bordered by a deep meadow. He took a few steps into the wet grass, thenlooked down with a sinking feeling. How come I always forget? he thought. Every time Iâm in Northern Europe itâs the same damn thing. He slid forward, grimacing. The meadow was knee-deep in slugs, each under its own blade of grass, oozing a slime that wouldnât wash offâwater would just spread it aroundâhis boots would dry silver white. He had never seen the banana slug of the Pacific Northwest, but he knew a slug so conspicuous and easy to avoid could not possibly be more revolting than the endless millions, living and dead, under and around his feet in this one idyllic Swabian pasture. He had heard that New Zealand harbors a snail so large it fills the evolutionary niche normally occupied by . . . he tried to rememberâhe recalled vaguely that the New Zealand grasshopper is so big that it functions as a mouse, but couldnât remember what the snail does. In any case, itâs a foot long, and he had no plans to visit New Zealand.
The desert is so clean and pure, he thought. I should take the M16 and drive down the Egyptian border to where the mountains look like bare, golden, freshly swept stairs. As a rotting log broke open under his foot, revealing a wet safety-orange slime mold, he thought of the dry, delicate geckos that used to run across his kitchen ceiling, and of miniature blue-black birds flashing like obsidian against the dusty green of feral geraniums in the backyard. Then he remembered that if he went home, he would have to report in. What will I tell Rafi? Rafi, itâs like this: Iâve narrowed down the search to two familiesâtwo clans, that isâtwo countries: Laos and Iceland. Iâm certain the heir will be found in one of those two places, in a remote cliffside cave where I can say I did it, collect the bounty and get the hell off this ridiculous project which is destroying my career and all my relationships. I just know if I werenât always traveling, Nofar would go out withme. I feel like a sailor. Itâs no wonder she wonât give me the time of day . . .
Yigal found a logging road and stopped to scrape his soles on the gravel. He realized that the slugs must once have had a predator, now extinct. He imagined the unicorns using their horns to lift the meadow thatch and reveal the slugs below, then eagerly munching them with their strong teeth and coarse tongues. What horror the virgins must have felt when the unicorns laid their slimy chins and stiff beards in their laps, how they screamed for the huntsman to come quickly, then the purely decorative nature of the roast unicorn centerpiece, its inedible meat slippery as okra. In his mindâs eye, he saw the male unicornsâ vicious battles for possession of the richest meadows and creek bottoms, where long brown slugs grew thick and fast as mushrooms.
He closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere near Beâer Sheva in a field of crispy weeds and Roman coins, then sat down in the road to check
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