The Zoo Job

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  The grin disappeared, and Marney now looked the way Dad did whenever he thought about Boston. “What do you mean they’re not there, Bobby? Did the ship come in?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Bobby said, “the ship showed up, but there ain’t no rhinos on it. Cap’n said they never got no rhinos in Malani. We’re wicked screwed, is what I think.”

  For a moment Zoë only heard the rustling of the branches as the aye-ayes ran around the enclosure.

  Bobby’s little voice asked, “Marn, you there?”

  “I’m—I—dammit! I don’t understand, how can this have—I don’t even—”

  “Look, Marn, you gotta call your priest pal, ’cause this is crap right here.”

  “Oh, I’m gonna call him, believe me.” Marney started walking out the door of Little Madagascar, phone glued to her ear.

  “We gotta get back in the truck and hit the road, but this really blows, Marn. You need to—”

  Zoë didn’t hear the rest of what Bobby thought Marney needed to do, as she left Little Madagascar. Dad stared after her, looking worried.

  But he shook it off in a minute, and he and Zoë wandered around the rest of the zoo. She enjoyed the giraffes and the bears—she got a great video of the brown bear swimming—and they had a late lunch at the Pink Flamingo Café. The café was empty except for the staff and a mother with a kid who Zoë figured was her son. The boy was eating soft-serve ice cream and the mother was playing with her phone.

  For her part, Zoë had set her phone’s alarm to go off at three forty-five so they’d be able to get back to the red panda in time. When it went off to the sound of her favorite Katy Perry song, she tugged on Dad’s shirt to go see Mei.

  The red panda was still asleep when they got there, but he looked like he was moving. Zoë whipped out her phone and started recording. One of Mei’s eyes opened, and then the red panda opened and closed its mouth a few times, making a tcha noise each time, then it yawned.

  It was quite possibly the cutest thing Zoë had ever seen in her life. And she recorded it all! She couldn’t wait to put it online.

  She and Dad walked toward the exit, hand in hand. “Thanks so much, Dad!”

  “My pleasure, honey. Now c’mon, let’s go . . .” Dad’s voice trailed off, and he stopped walking.

  Looking up, Zoë saw that Dad was looking at something. Following his eyes, she saw that he was looking at Marney, who was standing near the entrance, having an animated conversation on her phone.

  “Yes, I know that you can’t refund—” She cut herself off, listening to someone talk, but Zoë couldn’t understand it this time. “Look, I just want to know what happened to— Hello? Dammit!”

  After saying that last word, she put the phone back in her pocket.

  “Is everything okay?” Dad asked her.

  “What?” Marney turned angrily on them, then her face got nicer when she saw it was her and Dad. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr.— uh . . .”

  “Kerrigan. What’s wrong? Is it the rhinos?”

  She nodded. “They’re gone. The person I got them from said he put them on the ship, but the captain says he never had them. He never even spoke to the person I got them from. This wasn’t an official deal with the government, it was through a—a private buyer, so I don’t really have much of a legal recourse. We’re on the hook for hundreds of thousands of dollars, and no black rhinos to show for it. We’re so screwed.” She grimaced for a second then shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be telling you all this. Everything will be fine, just—”

  “Dad,” Zoë whispered.

  “What is it, honey?” Dad asked.

  “We should tell her about—”

  Dad interrupted quickly. “Zoë, I’m not sure that this is any of our business.”

  “But, Dad, he helps people! He helped us!”

  Marney was frowning now, and turned to walk back into the zoo. “I’m sorry, but I should go.”

  Zoë looked firmly at her father. “C’mon, Dad!”

  At that, Marney turned around. “Honestly, we’ll be fine. I’ll figure something out. This zoo has survived for over a hundred years, it’ll survive this, too.”

  Dad looked all weird for a second. Then he set his jaw the way he did when he decided he was going to do something—his jaw looked just like that when he decided he was going to fink on his old boss—and said, “Maybe you will, but if you don’t, I know a man you need to talk to. You can find him at McRory’s Pub in Boston.”

  “A guy who hangs out in a bar is supposed to help me?” Marney didn’t sound convinced.

  “He and his friends can,” Zoë said emphatically. “Dad told me once that there are wolves in the world and they stop them. If it wasn’t for them, Dad would be dead!”

  Dad put a hand on Zoë’s shoulder. “Zoë’s exaggerating, but—well, this man helped me out when I was in a bad way. It was the kind of trouble that could’ve gotten us both hurt very badly. In the end, the people responsible paid for it, and we were able to start over here in Brillinger. Trust me when I tell you, Marney, this man will help you.

  “His name is Nathan Ford.”

  ONE

  NOW

  Arthur Andrechuk, the CEO of AA Investments, wore a happy smile as he got out of his Lexus. After beeping the car into a locked state, he straightened his black necktie and approached the entrance to his building. Arthur always wore a tailored black suit with a white shirt and a black necktie, even on days that he himself had declared to be casual dress. It always reminded everyone who looked at him that he was in charge.

  “Good morning, Mr. Andrechuk,” the new security guard whose name Arthur didn’t care enough to remember said. He was sitting behind the Formica security desk, a copy of the Boston Globe opened to the sports section.

  “It is, in fact, a very good morning”—Arthur stared down at the man’s nameplate—“McGann. It’s a beautiful spring day here in Beantown. Do you know why I call Boston Beantown, McGann?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, Mr. Andrechuk.”

  Arthur leaned over the desk and spoke in a mock-conspiratorial whisper. “It drives Bostonians crazy.” He straightened and grabbed his ID, which was clipped to one of the belt loops on his suit pants. He removed it and ran it over the security gate’s scanner. The red light turned into a green light, the metal bar levered aside, and he entered, replacing the clip on the loop. “The other thing that drives ’em crazy is wearing anything that says ‘New York Yankees’ on it, of course. I think, McGann, that I’m going to wear my Yankee cap to work tomorrow. Had that sucker since I was a kid. Got it at Cap Day. Well, okay, my dad got it at Cap Day and I stole it while he and Mom were divorcing, but, y’know, whatever works.”

  “Of course, Mr. Andrechuk.” McGann returned to his newspaper.

  Arthur went to the elevator bank and stared at McGann. Then he fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed his assistant, even though he was going to see her within five minutes once the elevator took him to the top floor.

  “Yes, Mr. Andrechuk?”

  “Yvonne, I want you to look into the new security guy, McGann. I don’t like him.”

  “He came very highly recommended.”

  The elevator dinged and the doors spread apart. As he entered, Arthur said, “I’m sure he did, but I think he’s trying to hide a southern accent. You know how I feel about people from the South.”

  “Yes, Mr. Andrechuk.”

  He pushed the button for the thirteenth floor, and the elevator quietly started moving up. When he’d first bought the building, the top floor was the fourteenth. He’d changed that right away, seeing no reason to give in to superstitious nonsense. He’d seen that a lot in the older buildings in New York, but AA’s headquarters were modern enough that he thought the architects wouldn’t have succumbed to that ridiculou
sness.

  Someone Arthur didn’t recognize got on at two and got off at ten. She never made eye contact with Arthur, which was how he preferred it.

  Upon his arrival at the thirteenth floor, Yvonne was, of course, waiting for him as the doors opened. He’d been impressed with her skill when she first started just appearing when he arrived like that, until he realized that her computer alerted her whenever his ID was pinged in the building.

  “You’ve got the meeting with the people from Deutsche Bank at eleven, lunch with the woman from Consolidated, and the regular staff meeting’s at three.”

  Arthur frowned as he walked toward his office. “Why isn’t it at four?”

  “Jenna has to pick up her son from school, so Fred reschedu—”

  Shaking his head, Arthur opened the door to his office, with the etched glass that read ARTHUR ANDRECHUK, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER. “The staff meeting is always Monday at four. It’s always been Monday at four, it always will be Monday at four. Put the meeting back at four, remind Jenna that attendance at the Monday-at-four staff meeting is mandatory, and tell Fred to get his ass in my office ASAP.”

  “Yes, Mr. Andrechuk.” Yvonne followed him into his office. This used to annoy Arthur, but he soon learned that she did it only when she had more to say. “A.J. says that the office e-mail still isn’t working.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Files aren’t attaching.”

  Arthur sat down at his desk, which was neat and orderly as always. It was also made of mahogany, which violated multiple fire safety laws. He’d been fined a couple of times, but he didn’t care. The boss should have a wooden desk, as far as he was concerned.

  He turned on his computer and waited for it to boot up. “I thought A.J. fixed that.”

  Yvonne shook her head. “So did he. He had to call in tech support.”

  Eyes widening, Arthur repeated Yvonne’s words. “A.J. had to call in tech support? Okay, mark this day down in the calendar. I may have to cancel his bonus, if Mr. High-and-Mighty Computer Genius can’t fix an e-mail problem. Did he have to call in tech support?”

  Shrugging, Yvonne said, “He said it was that or start sending files on paper through interdepartmental mail.”

  “Right, because what AA’s all about is being retro.” Arthur shook his head. “Fine, when’s the tech guy getting here?”

  “Sometime between nine and three.”

  Arthur snorted. “Like the damn cable company.”

  “And—” Yvonne hesitated, which was never good. “Ms. Menendez is on line one.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, what does she want now?” Arthur leaned back in his chair. Rosa Menendez was a CPA at a local accounting firm. “All right, I’ll talk to her.” He made a shooing motion with one hand while grabbing the phone with the other. Once Yvonne closed the door, he stabbed at the 1 button. “What is it, Rosa? You can’t keep calling me here, we—”

  “We got a big problem, Artie. The IRS is sending two auditors named Smith and Baker to see you today! I got pinged on it from my friend over there.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Are you serious? Artie, we can’t—”

  “Did you certify that the pension accounts are all kosher?”

  “Of course I did, but—”

  “And did A.J. make sure the computer files are all in order? Oh, wait, you didn’t take care of that, I did.” He smiled, even though Rosa couldn’t see it. “The whole point of the exercise, Rosa, is to siphon money off from the pensions in such a way that the IRS won’t notice. It’s probably just some random audit. Don’t worry about it. In fact, this helps us. If the SEC looks into us and sees a clean bill of health from the IRS, we’ll be golden. They won’t expect anything.”

  “I don’t know, Artie, I’m not sure I can—”

  Arthur leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his neat mahogany desk. “Rosa, I’ve paid you good money to keep certifying that the pension funds are okay, money that I know you’ve already spent because Pedro is still getting Gylenia for his multiple sclerosis, and you can’t afford the four grand a month for it on your own. So you’d better think very carefully about how you finish that sentence.”

  Silence.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t sweat the IRS, Rosa, I’m ready for anything they’ll find. Just keep doing what I’ve paid you to do. In a month, this will all be over, Pedro can take his Gylenia in San Lorenzo, and I’ll be on a beach in the Bahamas.”

  The moment he hung up the phone, Yvonne opened the door. “Uh, Mr. Andrechuk? There are two people here from the IRS to see you. They don’t have an appointment, but—”

  Standing up, Arthur said, “That’s quite all right, Yvonne, send them in.” He walked around to the other side of his desk and put on his best smile.

  The two IRS agents were wearing dark suits, which Arthur appreciated, and had deadly serious expressions on their faces. One was a lovely brunette, the other a tall black guy. Both held briefcases, and both showed their IDs, which Arthur studied closely. They looked legit—they were far from the first IRS employees he’d ever met. And the names—Smith and Baker—matched the ones Rosa had provided.

  “Hello, I’m Arthur Andrechuk.” He held out his hand.

  The woman did not accept the handshake. “I’m S. J. Smith, this is my colleague Thomas Baker.”

  Baker nodded his head. “How do you do, Mr. Anderson?”

  “That’s Andrechuk.”

  “Of course, Mr. Anderchik.”

  Arthur gave up and turned back to Smith. “What can I do for the IRS today, Ms. Smith?”

  “You can stay out of our way while we do a full audit. I’ll need access to your computer system and all your client files.”

  “Of course!” Arthur said enthusiastically. “Let me take you down to our chief programmer’s office. That’s A.J. Kiroda. He handles all our computer systems, and he can walk you through—”

  Smith tartly said, “We don’t need anyone to ‘walk us through’ anything, Mr. Andrechuk.” She used air quotes, which just gave Arthur another reason to dislike her.

  He led them to the elevator to take them down to A.J.’s office on seven.

  After he pushed the down button, his COO, Manfred Shannon, came by. “Hey, Artie, you wanted to see me?”

  “Not especially, but it’s the only way to talk to you.” He grabbed Fred’s arm, shot a smile at Smith and Baker, said, “Excuse me just for one second, I need to consult with my COO,” then yanked him back toward his own office.

  “What’s wrong, Artie?”

  “What’s wrong? Why did you reschedule the Monday-at-four meeting?”

  “Jenna needs—”

  Arthur held up both hands. “I could give a damn. Jenna’s an analyst. I’ve got analysts pouring out of the dozens of universities they have in this town every year who can do just as good a job as her and take a fraction of the pay. I don’t need Jenna, and will gleefully replace her with someone who won’t try to disrupt our schedule with her idiotic child-care problems. I pay her well enough to afford a nanny, and her husband makes almost as much as she does. So she can suck it up and find someone else to drag her kid’s ass home from school, and we’re having our meeting at four, got me?”

  “Um, well, I—”

  “The answer to that question, Fred, in case you weren’t sure? Is yes.”

  Fred swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go play nice with the IRS.”

  That got Fred to swallow again. “What do they want?”

  “To justify their existence by interfering with mine. Don’t worry about it, just take care of this.”

  “Okay.”

  Fred wandered back toward his own office while Arthur rejoined Smith and Baker at the
elevator bank.

  “Sorry about that. Business, you know.”

  The IRS people said nothing. Then the elevator arrived, and they went down to A.J.’s office—which was empty.

  Grumbling, Arthur pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed A.J.’s cell.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  A.J. was the only person who called him boss. Arthur didn’t really like it that much, but he also didn’t like the idea of discouraging the practice.

  “Why the hell aren’t you in your office?”

  “The tech support guy’s there.”

  Arthur peered inside the office to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, but no, there were just A.J.’s three desks, each with a computer station. “No, he isn’t. And neither is anyone else.”

  “He probably went to the bathroom. I’ll be right there.”

  Replacing his phone, Arthur looked over at the IRS people. “He’ll be right here.”

  Moments later, a short Asian man wearing a flannel shirt came jogging down the hall, a bag of corn chips in his hand. “Sorry about that.”

  Arthur introduced the IRS people and told him to help them in any way he could.

  Leading them in, A.J. said, “Okay, the tech support guy’s using number one, so you two can use two and three.”

  “You’re in good hands, here,” Arthur said, putting his reassuring smile back on. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”

  Baker said, “Thanks very much, Mr. Anderson.”

  “It’s Andrech—” He sighed. “Never mind.”

  Leaving them to it, he took the elevator back to his office.

  Yvonne looked up in surprise when the elevator chimed and he stepped out. “Mr. Andrechuk? What are you doing here?”

  He looked sidewise at his assistant. “I work here. As a matter of fact, I happen to own the place. You might recall that that is my office.”

  “I know that, Mr. Andrechuk, but—” Yvonne hesitated. “I just got an alert that you entered the server room—and you haven’t left yet.”

  “That’s crazy, I haven’t been in there in months.”