Chupacabra

by Roland Smith

  Noah smiled, thinking about old Henrico and the new apprentice he had found for him. He wondered how they were getting along in the workshop several levels beneath the mansion. He carefully examined the glass. Not a smudge or speck of dust on the surface. It was as if he could reach through and pet the extinct animals, just as he had petted Natasha the Caspian tiger when she was still alive. Just the way he liked it.

  He returned to his computer and brought the lights down. No time for pleasure. Time to make his daily rounds.

  Marty and Luther followed Wolfe and Theo Sonborn down the hallway to Dr. Loch’s office. The door was open. Loch was sitting at his desk, still smiling. “The crowd is massive,” he said.

  “So I’ve heard,” Wolfe said. “Can we borrow your office for a short meeting, Mike?”

  Filling the doorway, Travis Wolfe towered over Dr. Michael Loch, as he did over most people. He looked down at the zoo director with tired brown eyes, a full black beard, and long black hair.

  “Of course,” Loch said, standing up from his desk. “But what about the press conference? There are two hundred journalists waiting for us in the Squidarium.”

  “I’ll pass on that,” Wolfe said. “And the less you say about our involvement, the better. We don’t want the publicity or the attention.”

  “In that case, make yourself at home,” Loch said with a sweep of his arms. “I’ll see you at the opening.”

  “Actually, you won’t,” Wolfe said. “I’m flying out right after this meeting.”

  “You’re kidding?” Loch said.

  Marty was surprised, too. Wolfe was notoriously camera shy and rarely spoke to the press, but Marty didn’t think he’d miss the giant squid opening.

  Wolfe shook his head. “I have some things to take care of.”

  “What could be more important than the catch of the century?” Loch asked.

  Marty could think of a couple of things, like finding his parents and getting Grace and the hatchlings out of the clutches of Noah Blackwood.

  “You’ll be fine without me underfoot. Dr. Lepod is more than capable of handling any medical problems with the giant squid, and Theo Sonborn here can handle any technical or environmental issues that might come up.”

  Dr. Loch looked at Theo with serious doubt. Theo glared back at him with serious hostility.

  “Don’t worry,” Wolfe said. “Theo’s smarter than he looks.”

  Marty and Luther turned away so Loch couldn’t see their grins. The pudgy, bearded, perpetually angry Theo Sonborn was probably the smartest person on the planet.

  “All right,” Loch said, switching on the lights over the conference table. “I guess I’ll leave you to it.” He looked at Theo. “Are you coming with me?”

  “He’ll be down after we finish here,” Wolfe said.

  Loch left and closed the door behind him.

  “I don’t think Loch likes me,” Theo said, pulling off his wig and fake beard.

  “I wonder why,” Wolfe said.

  “Because no one likes Theo Sonborn,” Theo said, giving him a yellow-toothed grin before popping the fake teeth out of his mouth. “Which is the point of the disguise.” He dropped the greasy wig on the floor.

  Marty had seen Theo morph many times before. He turned away to check out the office. It was filled with books, wildlife photos, and zoo memorabilia. Luther wandered around, frenetically picking up or touching everything within reach.

  “Try not to break anything,” Wolfe warned.

  The conference table was across from Loch’s cluttered desk. A dozen chairs surrounded it. Wolfe pulled one out, sat down heavily, and began massaging his right leg, where his prosthesis attached to the stump. His leg had been bitten off years ago in the Congo by Mokélé-mbembé.

  The rough-looking, not-too-bright Theo Sonborn had almost completed his transformation into Ted Bronson. “Is that thing bothering you?” he asked.

  “A little,” Wolfe admitted, kneading the muscles above his knee.

  “Want me to make some adjustments?” Theo was now completely gone, replaced by a man who looked like an action hero from a Hollywood movie.

  “It’s fine,” Wolfe said. “I haven’t been off my feet in twenty-four hours. I just need to give the stump a little rest. It’ll be good as new by the time I land in DC.”

  “You’re going to Washington, DC?” Marty asked, surprised. It was the first he’d heard that his uncle was leaving town with so much going on.

  “Believe me, the capital is the last place I want to go,” Wolfe said. “But yeah, I’m taking off from McChord Air Force Base as soon as we finish here.”

  “To do what?” Luther asked, still prodding Loch’s personal belongings.

  Ted joined Wolfe at the table. “The expedition for the giant squid was not a complete failure. We lost Grace, we lost the dinosaurs, but we won in the scientific technology department. The Orb, the aquasuits, the molecular particle disruptor, the dragonspies, as you call them, and the micro-surveillance cameras: They’re all ready for prime time. Which means we get paid.”

  The Orb was a miniature nuclear sub that looked like a golden beach ball and was big enough to hold three people. It was able to reach unheard-of depths without imploding the occupants. They had used it to lure the giant squid out from the Kaikoura Canyon into the Moon Pool of the Coelacanth. The molecular particle disruptor was a zipper wand that allowed them to get into and out of the Orb and the aqua-suits. The Orb and aquasuits were made out of a brand-new alloy that Ted likened to “organic body armor,” able to adapt instantly to any environment and impervious to just about everything.

  The dragonspy, or bot-fly, was Marty’s and Luther’s favorite invention of Ted’s. It resembled a dragonfly in shape and size, but that’s where the similarities stopped. It was a miniature flying robot equipped with cameras and microphones that sent video and audio to the Gizmo — another invention of Ted’s that made all other smartphones look stupid.

  “What about Grace?” Marty asked. “What about my parents?”

  “Duh du jour,” Wolfe said.

  Marty and Luther looked at him in shock. This was the boys’ favorite saying, but it didn’t sound quite right coming from Wolfe’s bearded lips.

  “This is why I wanted to talk with you,” Wolfe said. “There are several new developments. Grab a seat.”

  Marty sat down at the head of the table, wondering if his uncle had good news or bad. Good news had been as rare as cryptids since they’d returned from the coast of New Zealand aboard the Coelacanth. Not even the successful delivery of the giant squid was enough to rescue them from the funk they had been in since Grace’s abrupt departure.

  Luther plopped down on Loch’s desk, which would allow him to pick through the director’s clutter while he listened to what Wolfe had to say.

  “Let’s start with your parents.” Wolfe took out his Gizmo and consulted the screen. “There’s no concrete news, but Robert Lansa sent me an email late last night saying that he’s heard some rumors about a man and a woman being injured and taken by an uncontacted indigenous tribe to their village deep in the jungle.”

  “What do you mean by uncontacted?” Luther asked.

  “A tribe that has had no contact with the outside world,” Wolfe answered. “Ever.”

  “Can’t be too many of those left,” Marty said.

  Wolfe nodded. “But I don’t want you to get your hopes up. One of the problems we’re dealing with now is that our presence down there is causing a lot of chatter. It’s the same thing when you’re looking for cryptids. When you go into an area making inquiries about something that’s not supposed to exist, the rumors and sightings hit the roof. Most of the sightings turn out to be hoaxes, and the rumors lies.”

  “But the rumors in Brazil might be true,” Marty said excitedly.

  “We’ll see,” Wolfe said. “Laurel Lee and Ana Mika are on their way down there right now to help the Lansas check out the rumors. Jake Lansa’s meeting them in Manaus and taking them to the
jaguar preserve.”

  Ana Mika was an investigative journalist and Ted Bronson’s longtime girlfriend. Laurel Lee was a cultural anthropologist, and maybe Wolfe’s new girlfriend.

  “If there’s any merit to the information, those two will dig it out,” Ted said.

  “I wish I’d been able to go with them,” Wolfe said.

  “Why didn’t you?” Marty asked, wondering why he hadn’t been told about this beforehand. He would have liked to have gone down with them, too.

  “Business,” Wolfe said gloomily. “It’s time to cash in on the technology we’ve been developing the past several years.”

  “I thought catching the giant squid would make you solvent,” Luther said.

  “Solvent?” Marty repeated.

  “Rich,” Luther explained. “At least that’s what my dad calls having piles of cash.”

  Marty looked at Wolfe. “What about Grace?”

  “We aren’t going to be able to do anything about Grace until we have enough resources to take on Noah Blackwood,” Wolfe answered. “That’s why I’m heading to DC. In a day or two, we should have everything we need to start the process.”

  “What process?” Luther asked.

  Wolfe sighed. “It’s complicated. Our first problem is that Grace went with Blackwood voluntarily. The second is that I have no legal proof that Grace is my daughter. She was born in the Congolese jungle. No birth certificate. It’s my word against Blackwood’s, and to be honest, Blackwood’s word carries a lot more weight than mine.”

  “At the moment,” Ted added. “But that could change. Ana has gathered a very damaging dossier against him, but the allegations still need to be vetted and proved.”

  “Proved how?” Luther asked.

  “Good question,” Ted said. “Photos, video, documentation of some of his nefarious activities would help. Al Ikes is trying to figure this out right now, but the Ark is like an armed fortress. Noah has been keeping secrets for years and is very good at it.”

  Al Ikes was an ex–CIA agent who was in charge of eWolfe security. Marty had wondered why they hadn’t seen him since the Coelacanth docked at the NZA pier.

  “Is Grace at Blackwood’s Seattle Ark?” he asked.

  “We don’t know,” Wolfe said. “But we do know that Noah’s there. Or at least he was earlier this morning. He did a press interview in front of his new panda exhibit.”

  “Cubs that Butch McCall poached in China,” Ted added.

  “Or so we think,” Wolfe said. “If we could get proof of just one of these things, we could take him down.”

  “Let’s get back to Grace,” Marty said.

  “We think she’s at the Seattle Ark, too,” Wolfe said. “I doubt that Noah would let her out of his sight.”

  “What about using the dragonspy?” Luther suggested.

  Just before Grace climbed onto Blackwood’s helicopter, Luther had landed a dragonspy in her shirt pocket. She had used it to communicate with them briefly before the helicopter flew the bot out of range.

  “It’s off the grid,” Ted answered. “Which could mean one of several things. The dragonspy is somewhere in the Ark that our telemetry can’t penetrate. Blackwood discovered the dragonspy and disabled it. The dragonspy simply ran out of juice. Or Grace isn’t at the Ark with her grandfather.”

  “Or Grace doesn’t want us to know where she is,” Wolfe said glumly.

  “Not likely,” Luther countered.

  Marty wasn’t so sure. Grace didn’t always take the likely path. After their terrifying trip to the Congo, where she’d discovered who she really was, she had ventured off the well-trodden path several times. She might be waiting to use the dragonspy until she absolutely needed it. But he wondered about that, too. Grace wasn’t into electronic gadgets like he was. On their way back from New Zealand, Ted had loaned him his dragonspy. It was in Marty’s cargo pocket right now, resting inside his Gizmo. He hadn’t flown it in days, but Luther had … several times. Marty hated to admit it, but Luther was a much better dragonspy pilot than he was.

  “What’s your plan?” Marty asked.

  “I’m still formulating it,” Wolfe answered. “I’ll know more when I get back from DC.” He looked at his watch. “Phil and Phyllis are flying Laurel and Ana to Brazil. They’re well on their way by now. Ted is going to stay here and make sure everything goes okay with the giant squid. The Coelacanth is heading back to Cryptos in a little less than an hour. You two will need to be on board before she sails, so you’ll need to gather your things and get —”

  “No can do,” Luther said.

  “Why not?” Wolfe asked.

  “The parental units.” Luther reached down and pulled his cell phone out of his sock.

  “You carry your cell phone in your sock?” Wolfe asked.

  “Yeah,” Luther said. “Don’t you?”

  Wolfe shook his head. “What did your parents say?”

  “Dad just texted me to say that he and Mom are flying in tomorrow morning to check out Mr. Squid. They’ve been reading the press reports, and they’re excited to get a firsthand look. I told him that we’d be able to give them a behind-the-scenes tour of the leviathan. I hope that’s okay.”

  Marty knew about the phone in the sock, but the text was news to him, which meant there was a good chance that Luther was lying about his billionaire parents flying in. In all the years he’d known Luther, Marty had met his parents exactly twice. He wasn’t sure if Luther himself would recognize them on the street if he bumped into them, but they would recognize him, if by nothing else than his shocking flame-colored hair.

  “I wish you would have asked,” Wolfe said.

  “I would have if I had seen you. I’ll write Dad back and tell him no.” He started to tap on his cell phone.

  Wolfe held his hand up. “You don’t have to do that. I just need to figure out what to do with you for the night and how to get you to the island tomorrow. What time are your parents flying in?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Where are they flying in from?” Ted asked.

  “They didn’t say. Could be anywhere. They virtually live on their jet. They use it like a recreational vehicle.”

  Wolfe looked at Ted. “Can you keep an eye on these two?”

  Ted shook his head. “I’m afraid not, partner. Theo Sonborn is going to be busy keeping an eye on Architeuthis today. And tonight he’s going to change back into Ted to take care of some very important business. Business that can’t wait and can’t be done with company.”

  “What are you up to?” Wolfe asked suspiciously.

  Ted smiled. “You don’t want to know.”

  Marty looked at Luther, who was looking at Wolfe with a goofy grin. He knew Luther had a plan, too, that he hadn’t let him in on yet. He could hardly wait to get Luther by himself and find out what he was really up to. Knowing Luther like he did, it had to be something insanely stupid, but incredibly interesting.

  “The problem is, I don’t have a way to get the boys back to Cryptos, with Phil and Phyllis flying to South America. The Coelacanth has to leave today. Another ship is scheduled for the slip,” Wolfe thought aloud.

  “How are you getting to DC?” Marty asked.

  “Military jet. The Pentagon arranged it. I guess they’re eager to see me.”

  “Wait until they see the video of the Orb,” Ted said. “They’ll kick the president out of the White House and give the place to you.”

  “I wouldn’t take it,” Wolfe said. “But I am going to talk to them about our lease for Cryptos and getting a replacement chopper.”

  Butch McCall had sabotaged their helicopter when he was aboard the Coelacanth. Cryptos Island, where Wolfe and Ted lived, had been a secret military base during World War Two. Wolfe had gotten it in exchange for some work he and Ted had done for the government. Grace had tried to find the island on a nautical map, but with no luck. It was as if the island didn’t exist. They weren’t even sure if it was a part of the United States. The name Cryptos came
from the word cryptic, which meant “secret” — and Marty could think of no better word to describe the mysterious place.

  “I’ll be stranded, too, until I can figure out a way back to Cryptos,” Ted said. “Maybe the Hickocks can keep an eye on them.”

  “Who?” Marty said.

  “Our new caretakers,” Wolfe said. “You haven’t met them yet. They started on Cryptos after we left for New Zealand. Bill Hickock; his wife, Melanie; and their son, Dylan, a few years older than you two. Dylan’s down at the squid tank. Nice kid with an incredible story about an encounter with a Sasquatch during the last eruption of Mount Saint Helens.”

  “He saw Bigfoot?” Luther said.

  “Big-time,” Wolfe said. “Right here in Washington State. And it just so happens that the guy who helped Dylan and his dad on the volcano is a retired field biologist named Buckley Johnson, and he’s working with Robert Lansa at the jaguar preserve in Brazil.”

  “Big coincidence,” Ted said.

  “Small world,” Wolfe said. “How can they help us with our transportation problem?”

  “Before Bill got hooked on cryptozoology, he was a real-estate guy,” Ted explained. “He owns property all over the Pacific Northwest. His wife is staying at one of his condos on Lake Washington. She’s teaching at the University of Washington this summer. She’d probably keep an eye on these two until we can work something out. I’ll be around for a couple of days before I head back to Cryptos. I can check in on them, too. I’ll take them with me when I figure out how I’m getting back to the island.”

  “We’ll have to get them to that Lake Washington condo,” Wolfe said.

  “Dylan just turned sixteen,” Ted answered. “He has a license. I loaned him one of my cars.”

  “That’ll work.”

  “Excuse me,” Marty said. “We’re right here.” He hated it when adults talked about him as if he wasn’t there.