The scientist cleared his throat. "Very well," he said softly.
"Why are their wings red?" Perriweather asked.
"Ah." The scientist flushed. He was more comfortable talking about biology than disputing names with his terrifying employer. "The amino acids developed in this species are, as I said, radically different from the ordinary housefly's. Not only in type, but in location. Apparently, that produced the genetic mutation that gave us the red wings. Naturally, when the experiments continue and we destroy these particular organisms, then we'll start to relocate the-"
"Destroy? Destroy what?" Perriweather's eyes blazed.
"Since we have all the paperwork, it really isn't necessary to keep the actual organisms, particularly since their respiratory systems are developed to a point that makes them incompatible with other forms of life."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that these flies are immune to DDT, other pesticides and all poisons," Morley said.
"That was the point, wasn't it?"
"That was exactly the point," Perriweather said.
His eyes sparkled. "All pesticides?"
"All pesticides currently known. Allow me." He lifted the plastic cube from Perriweather's hands and placed it on the gleaming white lab table. Wearing rubber gloves, he inserted the gauze flycatcher into the box and withdrew one of the flies. Next he opened a small container from which a soft hiss issued. "Pure DDT," Morley said as he lowered the flycatcher into the container and closed the top.
"What's going to happen?" Perriweather asked anxiously.
"Absolutely nothing," Morley said. "There's enough pure pesticide in that-"
"Please don't refer to them as pesticides," Perriweather said.
"Sorry, there's enough DDT in there to kill a country full of flies. But notice the condition of Musca perriweatheralis." He pulled out the gauze flycatcher and covered the top of the box. Inside the gauze, the red-winged fly buzzed angrily. When he placed it back into the plastic cube, it darted straight for the piece of meat.
"He's still alive," Perriweather said.
"And unharmed," Morley added. "It can survive in an atmosphere of pure methane," the scientist said proudly. "Or cyanide. Or any poison you can think of."
"Then it's invincible."
"That's why it has to be destroyed," Morley said. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to risk having a creature like this loose in our atmosphere," he said. "As it is, the precautions I've taken with it have been enormous. But the danger grows as the pair breeds. If even one such fly gets out of this lab alive, it could significantly jeopardize the ecological balance of the planet."
"A fly that can't be poisoned," Perriweather said proudly.
"As you know, Mr. Perriweather, it is much more than that. There are the other things it does. Its ability to bite, for instance, unlike Musca domestica. And the result of its bites. You know, Mr. Perriweather, when I first came here to work, you promised that one day you would tell me how you had developed those initial mutations."
"Let's see the demonstration again," Perriweather said. Morley noticed that his employer was breathing hard.
"Must we?"
"We must," Perriweather said. His voice was a soft uninflected drone, almost like a buzz, but it chilled Morley more than shouting would have.
"Very well."
The scientist went to a far corner of the lab to a terrarium filled with salamanders. He took one out and brought it back to the plastic cube containing the flies.
"You be careful. I don't want that lizard accidentally eating one of those flies."
"It won't," Morley said. He covered the salamander's head and held it inside the container with the flies. One of the flies lighted on the salamander's tail for a second, then hopped back onto the lump of rancid meat.
Morley tossed the salamander into another clear plastic container that already held a large wood frog. The frog was a dozen times larger than the lizard; its body weight must have been one hundred times as great. The frog looked at the salamander and flicked out a lazy tongue.
Perriweather moved up next to the plastic cube; his face touched it as he watched to see what would happen next.
The frog flicked out its tongue again and almost instantly its tongue had been severed and was lying on the bottom of the container, still twitching reflexively. The frog's eyes bulged in terror as the salamander attacked it, biting it fiercely, and ripped off large chunks of skin from its body. Then the lizard grabbed and ripped the limbs from the frog. The frog's eyes burst into blobs of jelly. Its clear-colored blood sprayed against the plastic sides of the container. It made a feeble sound; then its resonating cavities were filled with its own bodily fluids. The frog twitched, and then lay immobile on the floor of the cage, as the tiny salamander crawled atop it, still attacking.
Another two more minutes, the interior of the plastic container was invisible from the outside. The frog's entrails and fluids had covered the sides. Silently Dr. Morley lifted the top of the box and inserted a long hypodermic needle and withdrew it with the dead salamander impaled on the tip.
"Air injected right into the heart," he said, tossing the reptile into a plastic bag. "Only way I know to kill it."
He looked at Perriweather. "Now you see why these two must be destroyed?"
Perriweather looked at the flies for a long time before looking back to the scientist.
"I'll take care of it," Perriweather said. "For the time being, guard them with your life."
The room upstairs was dark, as it always was, and hot, and smelled of sweetness and rot. VValdron Perriweather III entered quietly, as he always did, carefully replacing the key in his jacket pocket after unlocking the door. The dust in the room lay in sheets across the ancient velvet furniture with delicate crocheted doilies.
Perriweather walked softly across the dusty threadbare rug to a high mantel covered with antique silk. On top of the silk was only one object, a tiny jeweled case thickly crusted with gold and precious stones.
Lovingly he picked up the case and held it for several minutes in the palm of his hand. He stared at it, not speaking, not moving, except for the gentle strokes of his fingers upon its jeweled surface.
Finally, taking a deep breath, he opened the case. Inside lay the tiny corpse of a fly.
Perriweather's eyes softened with a film of tears. With a trembling finger, he touched the hairy, still little body.
"Hello, Mother."
Chapter 12
Perriweather was back at the desk in his study when the telephone rang.
"Mr. Perriweather," Gloria Muswasser said. "We're sorry but the bomb didn't go off."
When she got off the telephone, she would tell Nathan that Perriweather didn't seem to mind at all. He was cordial. More than cordial.
"It wasn't our fault either," Gloria said. "The fuckup was due to the paranoid insensitivity of the unenlightened news media and-"
"No matter, Mrs. Muswasser," Perriweather said. "I have contingency plans."
"So do we," Gloria said, thinking of the children's ward at the hospital. "Nathan and I just came up with something so fantastic, so big, you're going to really love it."
"I'm sure I will," Perriweather said. "Why don't you come out to the house and tell me about it?"
"Really? Really? You're not mad?"
"Do I seem angry?" Perriweather said.
"Say, you're really a good sport," Gloria said. "We'll start right up there."
"I'll be expecting you."
"Mr. Perriweather, you won't be sorry. The new plan will get rid of all your problems."
"Yes, it will," Perriweather said.
"You haven't even heard it yet."
"I'm sure it will. You and Nathan, I know, will get rid of all my problems," Perriweather said as he hung up.
Gloria Muswasser said to Nathan, "He's a little on the weird side, but he's okay. He wants us to come up to Massachusetts and tell him about the new plan. He wants us to solve all his problems."