“Yes, sir!”
Kraft got the car moving, made a special effort to act casual and unconcerned. Hellstrom’s orders had been explicit: this was a routine investigation into some missing persons. All cooperation would be extended.
Peruge admired the farm buildings as they approached the north fence. The farm had been built in a time when materials were squandered without any worries about the supply. There wasn’t a knot in any of the lumber visible on this side of the farmhouse or the barn, although the wood had that dark gray of long weathering and probably could have used a coat of paint. Peruge wondered idly why the farm wasn’t painted.
Kraft stopped parallel to the fence, just clear of the gate. “We walk from here. Doc doesn’t like us bringing cars up to the buildings.”
“Why’s that?”
“Something to do with his work, I expect.”
“The place could use a coat of paint,” Peruge said as he got out of the car.
Kraft got out, closed the door, and spoke across the roof of the car. “I heard tell Doc used some kind of wood preservative on his buildings. They just look weathered. Kind of pretty when you think about it.”
“Oh?” Peruge walked to the gate, waited for Kraft. “What’s that concrete building over there?” He pointed to the low structure inside the fence to the left of the gate.
“Might be a pumphouse. About the right size for a big one. Or it could be something to do with the doc’s work. I never asked.” Kraft watched Peruge carefully. The concrete structure housed an emergency ventilation system which could be opened by explosives and was linked to standby pumping. There were several more such installations scattered around the area, but the others were camouflaged.
“Is Hellstrom married?” Peruge asked.
Kraft opened the gate before answering. “I don’t rightly know.” He stood aside to let Peruge enter, closed the gate. “Doc has lots of pretty gals around here sometimes. For his movies, I s’pose. Maybe he thinks there’s no sense buying a cow when milk’s free.” Kraft chuckled at his own hairy witticism and added, “Let’s get along up to the farm.”
Peruge shuddered as he fell into step with the deputy. That humor had been a little heavy. This deputy was neither pure western, pure yokel, nor pure anything else. Kraft tried too hard to appear the semirustic of earthy origins. The trying was so obvious at times that it dominated every other action. Peruge had decided earlier to watch the deputy carefully, but now he put an extra note of caution on his resolve.
“Place looks kind of shabby,” Peruge said, hurrying to keep pace with Kraft’s long-legged stride. Despite the stiffness of his gait, the deputy moved with a no-loitering directness that suggested he didn’t want Peruge to take too close a look at the surroundings.
“I thought it looked pretty good here,” Kraft said. “They keep the farm area pretty neat.”
“Do they do much farming?”
“Not much anymore. His folks used to keep a lot more crops. Some of the kids the doc has here plant corn and things in the spring, but they’re just playing at farming, seems to me. City people, most of them. They come up here from Hollywood or out from New York and gawk at us natives and play farmer.”
“Hellstrom has a lot of visitors?” Peruge kicked at a dusty clump of grass as he spoke. The dry, hot air of the place bothered him. There was an irritant humming sound in the background, and an underlying animal smell that made him think of a zoo. This odor had not been apparent outside the fence, but it became stronger the deeper they went into the little valley. What he could see of the creek on his right showed only a thin trickle of water. It was mostly pools and puddles connected by narrow rills full of green algae that waved in weak currents. There appeared to be a small waterfall at the upper end of the valley, however.
“Visitors?” Kraft asked after a long pause. “Sometimes the place is crawling with ’em. Can’t spit without hitting someone. Other times, he probably doesn’t have more’n ten or twelve people here.”
“What’s that smell?” Peruge demanded.
“What smell?” Kraft asked, then realized Peruge meant the Hive odor, most of which was washed from the vented air but was always detectable here in the valley. Kraft rather enjoyed the odor. It reminded him of his childhood.
“That animal smell!” Peruge said.
“Oh, that. Probably something to do with the doc’s work. He keeps mice and things in cages up there. I saw them once. Regular menagerie.”
“Oh. Is that a year-round waterfall?”
“Yep. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“If you like that sort of thing. What happens to all the water? The creek seems rather small down here.” Peruge stopped as Kraft looked directly at him, forcing the deputy to come to a halt, also.
“I expect the ground soaks it up,” Kraft said. He appeared impatient to continue, but unable to think of a good argument. “The doc may take part of it up there for irrigation or cooling or something. I dunno. Let’s get on up, eh?”
“Just a minute,” Peruge said. “I thought you said Hellstrom didn’t do much farming.”
“Doesn’t! But what he does still takes some water. Why you so curious about his creek?”
“I’m curious about everything on this place,” Peruge said. “There’s something wrong about it. No insects. I don’t even see any birds.”
Kraft made a swallowing motion in a dry throat. Obviously, there’d been a very thorough night sweep recently. Trust this Peruge to notice the absence of local fauna! “Birds often hide where it’s cool in the hot part of the day,” he ventured.
“Is that right?”
“Didn’t your bird-watching friend ever tell you that?”
“No.” Peruge glanced around him, peering carefully at everything in sight. It was a quick and intense motion of head and eyes which alarmed Kraft. “What he did say, once,” Peruge continued, “was that there was an animal or a bird for every time of day or night. I don’t believe the birds are hiding; you can’t hear them. There are no birds here and no insects.”
“Then what was your friend doing here?” Kraft asked. “If there are no birds, what was he watching?”
Ahhh, my friend, not so fast, Peruge thought. We aren’t ready yet to take off the gloves. He was convinced now that Kraft was in league with Hellstrom. “Carlos would’ve noticed the absence of birds and he might’ve gone hunting for an explanation. If he found an explanation that could cause trouble for someone, that might explain why he’s missing.”
“You sure got a suspicious mind,” Kraft said.
“Haven’t you?” Peruge asked. He moved into willow shadows at a bend in the creek, forced Kraft to follow. “What’s this Hellstrom really like, Deputy?”
Kraft didn’t care for being called Deputy in that tone of voice, but he kept his manner casual. “Ohhh, he’s just a plain, ordinary, run-of-the-mill scientist type.”
Peruge noted how Kraft’s voice came out flat and reasonable, but something in the set of his body, especially in the watchful turn of head and eyes, put the lie to this mask. Peruge nodded, as though he understood this, silently urging Kraft to continue.
“They’re all crazy, of course,” Kraft said, “but not dangerous.”
“I’ve never really agreed with that harmless, crazy scientist picture,” Peruge said. “I don’t think they’re all innocent and harmless. To me, no atomic physicist is completely responsible and trustworthy.”
“Ohh, come now, Mr. Peruge.” Kraft was making a valiant attempt to sound jovial and hearty. “The doc makes movies about bugs. Educational. I expect the worst thing he’s ever done is bring some pretty girls up here for some moonlight nooky.”
“Not even dope?” Peruge pressed.
“You believe all that stuff you read about Hollywood types?” Kraft asked.