Chapter 14 Grate Minds Think Alike
GRATE MINDS THINK ALIKE
As Margot demonstrated the spraying process, Bayard and Exandra drifted toward the back of the group. They stood side by side, not quite touching, both staring at the rows of aging cheese.
“It’s remarkable, when you think about it,” Bayard said quietly, “how vulnerable it all is. The slightest change in humidity could ruin an entire batch.”
“Mmm,” Exandra agreed. “Or temperature. A few degrees off for just an hour or two, and the mold development goes wrong.”
“Of course, one would have to be quite clever about it. Can’t just barge in and turn off the climate controls. That would be too obvious.”
“Oh, absolutely. A theoretical saboteur would need to be much more subtle with their gambit.” Exandra’s voice carried an edge.
“Perhaps they could introduce a competing mold strain? Something that would look like natural contamination?” She glanced down at the ground.
“Your shoe’s untied. Do you want me to get that for you? ”
“No. That’s overly complicated,” Bayard said, his tone turning critical as he set aside his cane and knelt to tie his silver laces.
For a moment it was unclear whether he was referring to her theoretical plans for sabotage or her offer to tie his shoe for him.
He pulled the laces tight and made a double knot while she waited.
When he rose, he continued the conjecture.
“Any competent cheesemaker would spot the contamination immediately. I believe a better approach would be to slightly adjust the humidity levels over several days. Make it look like it was an equipment malfunction.”
“Your ‘better approach’ would take too long and leave too much evidence in the logs,” Exandra scoffed. “A truly skilled operative would be more efficient. They would target the mold spraying equipment. A small mechanical failure there, and—”
“That would certainly be noticed during the next quality check. Come now, Exandra, I expected better strategic thinking from you.” Bayard raked a hand through his fluffy mane.
Exandra turned to glare at him, a cold fire burning in her icy blue eyes. “Better strategic thinking? From the man who once tried to ‘improve’ one of my mission plans by adding seventeen unnecessary contingencies?”
“Those contingencies kept you alive!”
“Because they tied us up in meetings for six hours! That gang of undead art thieves nearly got away.”
“Well, at least I think things through instead of just charging in and hoping for the best—”
“I don’t charge in—”
“The Bucharest incident?”
“That was ONE time, and we needed to act fast—”
“You nearly died!” Bayard hissed. Then he stopped, noticing the beam that Exandra was about to walk into. “Watch your head.”
“We didn’t die in Bucharest. We were fine!
” Exandra’s voice had risen as she ducked her head to avoid the jutting beam.
Several people turned to look at them. She lowered her voice.
“And anyway, we’re only talking about theoretical sabotage here.
Hypothetically, if a skilled malcontent were trying to cause problems, they wouldn’t use your overly cautious, take-forever approach. ”
“And they wouldn’t use your smash-and-grab, leave-evidence-everywhere approach, either.”
They glared at each other.
“Of course,” Bayard said after a moment, “a truly clever saboteur might think outside the box entirely. Train mice to nibble only on certain molds. Or enchant the cheese to emit a frequency that disrupts the Penicillium growth cycle.” He raised his eyebrows and cast her a sidelong glance, waiting to hear her retort.
It was all he could do not to grin when she took the bait.
Exandra’s lips twitched. “Train mice? That’s absurd, Bay!”
“You have a better absurd idea, Exxie?”
“Obviously. Convince the cows to produce milk with slightly altered fat content. That changes the entire texture from the source. Nearly impossible to trace.”
“Cows don’t negotiate with humans,” Bayard dismissed.
“Not with that attitude they don’t.”
“What about,” Bayard said, warming to the turn of the tide in their banter, “enchanting the aging rooms to play classical music that the mold doesn’t like? Studies show that bacteria are very sensitive to certain sound frequencies. Country music, for instance—”
“So your grand plan is to annoy the cheese into quitting?”
“It’s theoretical!” Bayard cried.
“It’s ridiculous. What about training birds to flap their wings and scatter the mold spores before they can take hold?” Exandra suggested.
“Training birds? How would they even get inside the production facility? And you criticized my mice…” Bayard snorted.
“Birds are smarter than mice.”
“That is factually incorrect and you know it,” Bayard argued. They’d moved even further from the group now, almost hidden behind a large aging rack.
Nearby, Minerva had positioned herself and Zephyr where they could eavesdrop without being obvious about it.
“You know,” Exandra said, her voice dropping, “if we’d worked together in the field, we might have been unstoppable.”
Bayard went still. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that maybe if I’d been less reckless and you’d been less cautious, we might have found a balance working together. Instead of one person charging ahead and the other person getting—” She stopped herself.
“Getting hurt?” Bayard’s voice was tight. “You can say it, Exandra. Getting crippled. Getting benched. Getting relegated to desk work because I couldn’t keep up.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Isn’t it? After my accident, you went on to become one of the Society’s best agents. And I became the person who answers the phone.”
“That wasn’t your fault. You didn’t have any other choice,” Exandra said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Besides, you said you preferred research.”
“What else was I supposed to say? That watching you leave for missions without me was torture? That I felt like half a man?’“ He laughed bitterly. “That would have been pathetic.”
“It wouldn’t have been—”
“Anyway,” Bayard said, cutting her off, “we’re discussing theoretical sabotage, aren’t we? Not ancient history. There’s no point in rehashing things that can’t be undone, no matter how much we might wish otherwise.”
Exandra looked like she’d been slapped. “Bayard—”
“Come along,” he said, his voice suddenly formal. “I think Margot is about to show us where they age the cheese. We shouldn’t miss it.”
He walked away, leaning heavily on his cane, leaving Exandra standing alone among the cheese wheels.
Minerva watched Exandra’s face crumple for just a moment before the mask slipped back into place.
“Did you hear—?” Zephyr whispered in Minerva’s ear.
“Every word,” Minerva confirmed. “And I think I might know how to help them.”