Cliff put the book down. He was sweating, though the cabin was nice and cool with an artifical breeze.

"Is that story of the ants really all true?"

"It is a fable," Twake said, "but we have no reason to doubt any of it. And there are several million documents that confirm it. Am I not right, cat?"

"I agree completely."

"Okay," said Cliff, "you have the ants solving a big math problem. What is the matter now? Why do you need the snakes?"

"We made a mistake. We assumed that the rate of calculation would be constant. But a recent expedition to the hive revealed that the ants have been optimizing their process. At present rate they will be finished in well under the 100,000 years left in our original estimate. We have about three months left, in fact."

"Well, have you thought about using insecticide? Or napalm?"

"No. There are uncountably many ants and they are evenly distributed across the planet. We don't have the resources. Even a nuclear attack would do little more than interrupt the calculation and make them angry. No, we need a more subtle and effective plan. That is why we need the snakes."

"Surely there is something you can do to buy time. How about inventing a new problem. Or you could mess up their calculation so they have to backtrack."

"We tried that with a simulation. The ants do unpredictible things. In some cases they bug out and wreak havoc on the countryside. We simply do not have enough data, nor a proper understanding of their society. We need someone with an aesthetic instinct, a way to view the larger picture. Hence, the snakes."

Then the cat lay her head down and closed her eyes.

"How can you be so relaxed?" Cliff said, astonished.

"I'm not relaxed," replied Bismarck simply.

"You're not?"

"No. I'm still planning. This is what cats do when they need to think very hard."

Cliff stared at her for a moment.

"So, er..."

Bismarck raised her head. "Think and plan all day and all night. Yes." She said this in a way that let Cliff know she needed him not to ask any more questions right now.

Anyway, Ireland was just coming into view. Cliff stared out the window until the plane landed.

The baggage handlers opened the side door of the plane and prepared to remove a huge crate out of the way. As they wheeled it toward the ramp, there was a pounding from inside the crate. The side slammed open. A figure sitting on a pile of pillows, dressed in arctic suit and oxygen mask, waved at them. Pulling off her hood and removing the mask, Noella smiled.

"Hey!" The handlers clustered around the entrance and gawked.

"I know, I'm not supposed to be here. I'm just leaving."

She waded through the pillows and walked down the ramp, removing her coat on the way.

"Miss!" said one of the handlers. "You can't..."

"God, I need some coffee. Where can I get some?"

He pointed toward the terminal.

"Thanks!"

She handed him her coat and started to turn away.

"Wait!" one of the baggage staff put a hand on her shoulder. He was a tall and imposing fellow. Lines of concern etched in his face, accentuated by dust. The squint in his eyes told her he was serious.

Noella's heart rate doubled. She was hoping she could smile her way past customs, but she hadn't even gotten off the plane and already she was in trouble. She had no passport, no visa, no explanation that anyone would believe. Her adventure was over ten minutes after setting foot on the ground.

"I was going to say, you don't want to go that way. Sure and security will pick you up in no time. You'll be wanting an escort to the taxi area, am I right? Oh, and just to be sure..."

He made an "L" symbol over his heart. She did the same. They each scratched a line in the ground with their left feet, making two parallel lines.

"Welcome to Ireland, Noella! We got the message from Logan Airport that you'd be on the way. We have a taxi waiting for you, driven by my brother Seamus. My name's Jake, by the way. Let's get you a nip of Irish coffee and you can be on your way."

Euro-LIMOS was quite well organized, Noella learned. More cooperation between the unions, better communication, higher morale. In the baggage handler's office, she was met by smiles all around. She sat at the dispatcher's desk and had a full breakfast, a little rushed but quite welcome. Propelled by pats on the back, her spirits soared.

"This is very exciting," said a female handler named Sarah. "We hear you may be about to uncover the location of Serpentopolis. Good luck to you! When you get back, you'll be the toast of LIMOS."

Seamus led her through some staff-only corridors to the front of the terminal where she emerged right at the taxi stand. They walked right up to a tall, black London-style cab with a handsome man leaning against the door, arms folded, cigarette hanging jauntily from his lips. His eyebrows seemed perpetually curled in an amused pattern. Though younger and a bit thinner, he shared his brother's look of sturdy friendliness.

"Noella, meet my brother Jake. He'll be your driver today. Take good care of her, Jakie!"

Jake put out his cigarette and shook her hand with both of his. "A grand pleasure." He made a slight bow. Noella blushed in spite of herself. This was all too much.

"All right, all right." She waved her hands to blow away the formal nonsense. "This guy I'm following was on the same flight as me. He'll be out here any minute. We need to be the ones to pick him up. Problem is, he's seen me before..."

"Disguise! Yes, coming up..."

Jake popped his trunk and rummaged around while Seamus gave her a knowing wink. "Nobody does a better disguise than my brother, and that's a fact. Any race, any gender, any species..."

"All righty then," Jake said to interrupt Seamus. He plopped a velise on the hood of the car and snapped it open. "What have we here. A nice blonde wig. Why don't you try that on."

Noella frowned doubtfully as she took the wig. She tried it on as if she were putting a slice of meat on her head. Jake pulled it tight and stood back to have a look.

"Yes, that's perfect. Former brunette, now a natural blonde. But it needs something more."

Rummaging again in the velise he found a pair of tortoise-shell glasses. "Pop those on if you please." He nodded happily. "Now, we need one more thing. Ah yes!"

"A cigarette holder?" Noella said in dismay.

"Absolutely! I guarantee you not a single taxi driver uses one of those. Am I right?"

Seamus shook his head vigorously. "Dead right, Jake. No taxi driver would be caught dead with one of those. Go ahead and light her up."

Clenching the cigarette holder in her teeth, a very dubious expression on her face, she let the brothers remove her coat and put on one of an entirely different style. This faux-fur coat practically had "ostentatious diva" printed on it. Some crimson lipstick and sky blue eye shadow completed the look. Jake made ready to spray her with a perfume bottle.

"Hold on," she put up her hand. "You're not going to spritz me with that stuff, are you?"

"I'm afraid it's necessary. Throws off the scent."

She closed her eyes as he gave her a liberal misting.

"There!" declared Jake. "Now you're all ready for the opera. Climb aboard, Ms.... Monticello."

Jake looked to Seamus who gave him a "not bad" look in return. They were set.

They moved to the front of the taxi queue. The other drivers had the description of the "mark" and quickly beckoned clients away to their own taxis. It was effectively reserved for Cliff and his animal companions. It was not too long before he emerged, tugging a cart with many, many bags. One was leaking something that looked like motor oil.

"That's him!" Noella cried.

"Subject spotted." Jake called into the radio.

The Irish taxi drivers quickly formed a human cordon around him, forcing him along a straight line directly to the cab with Noella and Jake. The trunk popped open and several drivers started taking the bags and shoving them inside. Cliff looked around, a little confused about all this attention, but shrugged and climbed into the cab.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said on seeing Noella. "Is this cab already taken?"

"Not to worry, sir," hollared Jake cheerfully. "It's customary to share cabs in this country. You'll find there's plenty of room."

It was indeed a very roomy cab, with two rows of seats facing each other. Cliff and his animal carriers sat facing Madame Monticello (nee Noella Adams). Tired, withdrawn, subdued, he looked about ready to collapse into sleep when he suddenly remembered something. Pulling from his shirt pocket a folded-up piece of paper, he handed it to the driver and said, "we need to be dropped off here, please."

"Certainly, sir!" The driver did a double-take after looking at the address. "Erm... are you sure about this? It will take us into the industrial part of town. I don't know of any hotels in that area."

Cliff looked worried. He partly covered one of the cages with his coat and turned away. Then he turned back around and said with certainty, "yes, that's the place."

Noella and Jake exchanged a quick glance. The car pulled out and started to leave the parking area.

Cliff lay his head back and seemed to go to sleep. No one could possibly understand how tired one can be when forced to be the escort of a bickering cat and a bird. Ever since getting off the plane, they had been involved in the most tedious argument about whose species had the best recipes for soup. In a few minutes, he snapped awake and bent down to look inside the carriers.

He sighed and said, "excuse me madam, but would you mind not smoking in here? It bothers my... pets."

Noella, shocked by this request, muttered an apology and looked around the cabin. She was too nervous to notice the ashtrays so she rolled down the window and threw the cigarette -- and cigarette holder -- out the window. She cursed silently to herself as she saw it bounce down the road. She glanced back at the rear-view mirror and saw Jake shake his head.

Cliff was now looking at her strangely. She was blowing it.

"Um, so, what brings you to Ireland?"

This put Cliff on the defensive. He had not prepared a story yet. He looked out the window, hoping to get an idea. "Uh... business. I mean, pleasure. Sight-seeing." He stared ahead for a few seconds and said as though he were coached, "we're going to be taking a tour with the History Angels tour agency around the Burren, a karst limestone feature in southwestern Ireland. And stuff."

"Really! That's fascinating. I'm on holiday here myself. I'm a wealthy heiress from California here to tour distilleries and sample whiskeys."

Both sides of the cab felt satisfied with their lies and relaxed.

"You know," said Cliff a little boldly, "you look kind of familiar. I don't know where I could have seen you before..."

"No, probably not. I don't get out much. But tell me about your pets. Why did you bring them along?"

"Oh." Again, he seemed to listen to something and then said, "a pet psychologist told me it would be a good idea to bring my pets with me on vacation to better bond with them. A recent Yale University study concluded that animals... No, sorry, that's stupid; I'm not going to say that."

"Sorry?" Noella squinted with fascination.

"No, I'm ... I'm just tired from the trip. And there was an article in the in-flight magazine... Anyway, not very interesting."

"So," she clasped her hands on her knees. "This tour sounds very interesting. Do you mind if I join you? My name is M- Mindy Monticello."

The taxi braked suddenly. Jake was trying to signal that it was not a good idea to come on so strongly like that.

"I'm Cliff."

"Yes, I am really interested in this... crust limestone?"

"Karst," Cliff corrected her. "Karst limestone. Also, there's a lot of history there, apparently. Mythology, fairies, leprechauns, stuff like that."

"And snakes?"

The taxi lurched more violently.

Cliff went pale. Why did she mention snakes? "There are no snakes in Ireland."

Noella looked horrified for a second. Then she forced a laugh. "No, of course not. Silly me! Snakes! Wherever did I get that idea? But anyway, yes, I would very much love to join you, when you go."

"Tomorrow," supplied Cliff. Suddenly he became agitated and turned to the cages. "She's all right!" he whispered harshly. "I don't care. Shut up. Shut up!" Turning back to her he smiled, "they're driving me crazy. Always chattering."

"I don't hear anything," Madam Monticello said.

Cliff jerked as if he had received an electric shock.

"Um, so, actually, it's not a good idea if you come along. Because we aren't sure if we're going today or tomorrow."

"We?"

Cliff rolled his eyes. The farce was getting to be too much for him. He pulled a little piece of paper out of his pocket and, pretending to have a coughing fit, he slipped it into her hand.

Noella crossed her legs to create a little screen of privacy and opened the note. It said simply, "HELP ME." She looked away.

For the rest of the ride, it was very quiet and very tense. They passed through successfully darker and more forboding parts of town until they reached the old warehouse district, a place where broken window panes outnumbered their intact cousins.

The driver parked the cab and went round the back to pull out the luggage. He caught her gaze, understood her request for guidance and shrugged. She would have to figure this out for herself. Cliff stood on the sidewalk with his animal carriers, fumbling with a handful of yellow coins. He handed one to the driver, who tipped his hat and returned to the cab.

"I'll follow them," Noella said with her hand on the door handle.

"No, you might be seen. Let's do this. I'll drive around the block to make them think we're leaving. We'll park someplace where we can watch, and do a stakeout."

He drove around the block and when they came round the corner again, he parked the car and shut off the lights. He retrieved a binoculars from the glove compartment and handed them to Noella.

Peering through the optics, she saw Cliff still standing where he had been dropped off, next to the huge pile of bags.

"He appeareds to be doing something to the pet carrier... opening it. The bird is flying around now. The cat is out too. He's talking with them. I think the bird is attacking him. Good lord. Okay, the bird has just flown away. Now the cat is running... into a narrow alley. And the guy is following. They're gone."

"They'll be back," said Jake confidently. "They wouldn't just take all those bags and leave them there on the sidewalk. Have some tea?"

She took a sip from the thermos and took another look through the binocs. Minutes went by and nothing happened.

"Do you think they're going to kill him?" Jake asked.

"Kill who?"

"That guy? I'd bet good money that guy is wind up dead. That's what the cats do to people, don't they?"

"You think he travelled all this way to be killed? Why couldn't they have done that in the US? And anyway, you're thinking about the black cats, aren't you?"

"It was gray, that's close to black."

"Nah, it doesn't make sense. They want him alive for some reason. I don't know why, but he's going with them to Serpentopolis." She sighed. "What's going on with those bags. Were they just props?"

"Nice bags," Jake mused. "Be a shame just to leave them lying there."

"Bob Sagget!" she pounded the seat. "I knew I should have followed them. The bags were there to throw us off."

Yellow eyes, two pairs of them, peered from the building top to the street below.

"Do you see it, Director?"

"I do, Miewskmi," said the more dominant voice.

"The car, Director, has been for hours in that location. The humans inside, they are using optical enhancement devices. Identification square shows it is a LIMOS vehicle."

"Scent trace?"

"Cannot do, Director. One is wearing aromatic perfume coating."

"Mrrr..." said the dominant voice in deep thought. "They could not have located the Inn, could they?"

"Not knowing, Director. Corrective action?"

Yellow eyes narrowed. "Could have them taken, their bodies flayed for questioning." Eyes dilated. "No, curiosity impels. Have them followed by a shadow group. Learn of their desires. I will decide corrective action then."