As the Crow Dies

by Kenneth Butcher

  “How did they even know we were searching for this guy?”

  His boss took a few files and stacked them. “How does anyone know anything these days? They probably have a search function set up on the internet looking for any mention of Elah’s name, would be my guess. You put out a BOLO notice on Francis Elah, they know about it.”

  “But Naval Intelligence?”

  “Dinah told me Francis Elah was working on some kind of secret project for the government. So now I guess we know what part of the government that was.”

  Segal sighed, taking in the implications. In the first place, he had trouble imagining what kind of project would link the navy with a guy who worked with animals—in this case, a crow. Did crows even fly over the ocean, or was the ocean reserved for seagulls? But even putting this aside, how was it they wanted in on the search for the guy? If his big, secret project was with the navy, then why didn’t the navy know where Elah was? If they didn’t know, who the hell did?

  “Is it true what they say about military intelligence being an oxymoron?” Segal said.

  “If I were you, I’d keep doing what you’re doing on your investigation, and when you meet this guy, Jerome Guilford, be real polite. For instance, keep the oxymoron stuff to yourself. Maybe he’ll explain the whole thing.”

  Segal nodded and smiled. Some sixth sense told him it was not going to be that straightforward.

  “And Segal,” his boss said, “I meant what I said about asking for help. This is looking pretty weird, and you haven’t been back that long. This isn’t about you proving something. This is about getting bad guys and keeping people safe.” He held his eyes steady.

  Segal didn’t blink.

  Segal found Dinah at her computer. She glanced over her shoulder when he walked up.

  “I’ve been looking up stuff here about Francis Elah and Creatures 2.0,” she said.

  Segal pulled up a chair beside her. He had to push some of her hair out of the way to see the screen.

  “Like, here is an interview on that morning show about two years ago.”

  Segal watched the screen. A thin man in his late thirties sat across the table from a woman with bright features. The man had slightly long and unruly brown hair. Segal’s attention was drawn to his eyes, which had a warm, inviting effect while at the same time emanating intelligence and authority.

  Interviewer: So, considering all your work with animals, I wondered about your name, Francis. Were you named for Saint Francis, and do you think that may have influenced you to work with animals?

  Francis (laughing): That’s a wonderful theory. I never made the connection, but that’s really good. No, the fact is my mother was a big fan of the Minnesota Vikings, and she named me after their quarterback, Fran Tarkington. She named me Francis, and she named our Labrador retriever Tarkington.

  Interviewer: Was your Labrador your first training subject? Is that how you got started on your path?

  Francis: I was very close to Tark. At first, I guess I did the same kind of training everyone does with their dog—“Sit,” “Stay,” “Come,” those commands. But what I think was more important for me was that I really studied him. I watched him for small signs and movements and reactions. The more I watched, the more I picked up on really small details that were easy to miss. If you can pick up on those subtle reactions, you can respond to them yourself, and you’re in a position to persuade the animal to do things you want them to do, sometimes things that are difficult to teach them by conventional techniques.

  Interviewer: Some people think you have a special, almost psychic connection with animals that allows you to do the things you do.

  Francis: I don’t believe in psychic connections.

  Interviewer: Then you think you can teach other people how to do the things you do?

  Francis (laughing): I think it should be possible, but so far, I haven’t been able to get very far with it. It takes an enormous amount of work up front before a person is in a position to do anything with the techniques. Most people are not prepared to put in that much work before they get any payoff.

  At that point, the camera panned to a wider shot. A gray squirrel walked into the room and across the table. It offered the interviewer a peanut M&M, derailing an interesting line of questioning. The interviewer accepted the M&M. The squirrel pressed the palms of its hands together and bowed in a way that reminded Segal of a Buddhist monk. The interviewer bowed back. The camera stayed on the squirrel as it turned and walked slowly away.

  “Pretty interesting guy,” Segal said. He was looking at the frozen image of Francis Elah on the screen, thinking there was a special quality about him, a poise and charisma that came from being perfectly comfortable in his skin. He thought of Emily and Suzie Elah and could easily imagine the three of them together.

  “Maybe he trained squirrels to hand out poisoned M&Ms to the Taliban,” Dinah said.

  “Maybe if we find him, we can ask him about it,” Segal said.

  Dinah turned toward him.

  “I mean find Francis, not the squirrel,” Segal said with a grin.

  Dinah shoved away from the computer. “Listen, Segal. Thanks for keeping us on this case.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope you’re still thanking me when we get deeper into it,” he said. “Speaking of deeper, check this out.” He handed her the paper.

  Dinah looked at it. “Office of Naval Intelligence?”

  “I know,” Segal said. “What could someone from Asheville, in western North Carolina, have to do with the navy? Especially someone who works with animals.”

  “I don’t know,” Dinah said, “but these are serious guys, Segal. Naval Intel was how the whole military intelligence business started, and they have a reputation for being interested in everything that happens everywhere.”

  “Even up in the mountains, away from the water?” Segal asked.

  “You’re forgetting the marines and the navy SEALs. Those guys can be sent anywhere at any time to do anything. You think the navy is going to trust some other outfit to look after their marines and SEALs?”

  Segal thought about that. As usual, he would defer to Dinah on anything military, but it did get the cogs turning in his brain. “You made me think of a guy I used to know, Andrew Roche. He was into training dogs for the army or the marines, I forget which. I haven’t seen him for a while, but I heard he’s out at the VA hospital.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Raccoons

  Dinah arrived first at the VA hospital. She sized up the front registration desk and the patient waiting area, wondering if it was such a great idea for Segal to be in this place of pain and broken lives. Patients gabbing in their rooms. Tears. A lot of misery. They were deep in the case now, and it was not a good time for him to relive the bad old days.

  One of the new people in the police department had asked her what Segal’s story was, anyway.

  “He’s got no story, that’s his problem. It was one of those things you couldn’t see coming and it didn’t make any sense.”

  “Sounds careless to me. Guy gets himself shot and everyone walks on eggshells around him,” the new guy had said.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she had replied in an even voice, “and I’m going to advise you not to say it to anyone else.”

  She saw Segal push open the door and walk in. He looked okay, at least for now.

  “Are you kidding me?” Andrew Roche said. “Of course, I know Francis Elah. I mean, everyone in this business knows him or knows of him. But I know him personally.”

  Segal sat next to Dinah on a couch in one of the lounge areas in the VA hospital on the east side of Asheville. Andrew’s brown eyes were full of light. He had a farm boy’s face—clean- cut, a scatter of freckles—and he seemed glad to see Segal and even happier to meet Dinah. Segal thought Andrew would probably have been happy for a visit from just about anyone. A long recovery was a lonely road.

  “Have you seen him recently?” Dinah asked.

 
; Andrew’s face lost some of its radiance. “No. I was hoping he would stop by, but I haven’t seen him.”

  “Did you ever work with him on any government projects?” Dinah asked.

  “Do you mean the raccoons?”

  “Raccoons?” Segal said.

  Andrew laughed. “Oh, man, you didn’t hear about that? It was a crazy idea. I mean, it would have been crazy for anyone but Francis. He had this idea that he could train a raccoon to assist a doctor during surgery. You know, they have those tiny little delicate fingers, and they can do intricate movements with them.”

  “Are you serious?” Segal said.

  “Francis was. He convinced some people in the government that it might be possible, and he got a grant. He was working right here in the Asheville VA hospital. This started before my time here,” Andrew said.

  “So, how do you convince the first person to let a raccoon operate on them?” Dinah asked.

  “They were years away from that step, I think. First thing was a demonstration that you could, with a high degree of confidence, train a raccoon to do some complex task over and over again. They did that, but as far as I know, that’s as far as the project got.”

  “So, what did Francis teach the raccoon to do?” Segal asked.

  Andrew looked up at the clock and said, “In a couple of minutes, you can see for yourself.”

  The lounge began filling with patients and a few staff members. Someone said, “There she is,” and they turned to see a raccoon approach from the outside. She disappeared behind an apparatus affixed to the wall of windows, and then everyone turned to a TV monitor mounted high on the wall.

  Segal watched the monitor along with the others. Dinah was riveted on it, too. The raccoon paused a moment. She looked up and down, sniffed the air until she appeared to be satisfied she was alone on the porch, then wiped her hands with her tongue. Afterward, she first sniffed the box on the right, then approached the box on the left.

  “She does that every time,” said Andrew. “She checks to see if she can get into the reward box without doing the task first. I don’t know if she doesn’t like to do the task or if she resents the manipulation the whole setup represents. Hope springs eternal, I guess, even in a raccoon.”

  At the box on the left, the raccoon reached up and pulled a black lever. A door opened beside the lever. The raccoon reached in and pulled out a package of cigarette papers. She moved over slightly and pulled a second lever. A second door opened, and the raccoon reached in and pulled out a small cloth pouch with a yellow drawstring. The group watched silently as the raccoon worked one of the papers loose and set it on the ground. She loosened the drawstring and, holding the pouch in both hands, spilled a little tobacco onto the paper. Grasping the filled paper with her tiny, dexterous fingers, the animal proceeded to roll a cigarette. When it was time to lick the paper to seal it, the raccoon looked directly into the video camera as she ran a pink tongue along the seam, then twisted the ends closed. She held the completed cigarette in her hands and rotated it slowly as if inspecting for flaws.

  She scampered over and opened a third door with a third lever and placed the finished cigarette inside. She walked quickly along the box, replacing the unused tobacco and papers and closing all three doors by flipping the levers up. The instant the last door shut; a bite-sized Snickers bar was ejected from a slot in the box on the right.

  “Francis said it was important to dispense the treat immediately,” one of the men said.

  “She likes those little Snickers bars, huh?” Segal asked.

  “Who the hell doesn’t?” Andrew said.

  The raccoon seemed to know exactly how to tear the wrapper off the little candy bar and did not need to use her teeth. She disposed of the wrapper in a small trash container and then began to eat the treat in several unhurried bites. She chewed slowly and gave every indication of savoring each morsel. It made Segal wish he had one of his own.

  Andrew flipped a separate lever on the inside wall and pulled out the freshly minted cigarette. “Better than the Marlboro Man,” he said, admiring the craftsmanship.

  “You’re going to smoke that?” Segal asked.

  “One of us will. Hell yes. We are all God’s children here at the VA. From the lowest to the highest, we hold none in contempt.”

  “You’re not worried about rabies or bubonic plague or anything?” Dinah asked.

  “Hasn’t done anyone any harm yet,” Andrew said. “And besides, I would put that raccoon’s personal hygiene up against most of the guys here.”

  Segal thought of the animal’s spotless fur, then looked at the guys milling around the lounge and could not disagree.

  A guy in a wheelchair came by, and Andrew handed him the cigarette, which seemed to make his day.

  “So, you were saying you know Francis Elah pretty well?” Dinah said. She went to work on her notebook.

  “Yeah, I’ve known him for a long time,” Andrew said.

  “When he got involved with his military work?” Segal asked, checking out Dinah’s chicken scratches.

  “Yeah, I saw him a little then.”

  Segal jerked his head up. Dinah stopped writing.

  Andrew smiled. “Let’s go to my room,” he said. “I might have some pictures I can show you.”

  They followed him down the hall with Dinah in the lead to a room that held several beds, all currently empty and neatly made. It was not difficult to spot Andrew’s little corner. Around his bed were several pictures of German shepherds. In some, Andrew himself, dressed in camo fatigues, was kneeling by the dog.

  “These are beautiful dogs,” Dinah said. She moved from one picture to another, her finger tracing each animal in the photo.

  “They’re the best,” Andrew said. “Powerful, fast, absolutely fearless, and absolutely faithful.”

  “Intelligent?” Segal asked.

  “ They’re intelligent in their own way.”

  The answer surprised Segal. He expected something more pro–German Shepherd.

  “You got to understand, animals are intelligent in different ways than we’re intelligent,” Andrew continued. “I think that’s what Francis really tuned into. He can work with an animal for a while and really understand what they know and what they don’t know, what they pay attention to and what they ignore. At least that’s what I took away after talking to him.”

  “You mean talking with him in Afghanistan?” Dinah asked.

  Segal was reminded that Dinah had been in Afghanistan herself and she must have recognized the terrain in the pictures.

  “Yeah, that’s what I was going to show you. I think I have some pictures here in my scrapbook.” Andrew moved to the footlocker by his cot. When he flipped it open, Segal was surprised to see how perfectly neat and organized the contents were, unlike any storage space he himself had ever used. Andrew removed a thick black binder, shut the footlocker, and slid it away so he could sit on the edge of the bed and use it as a coffee table. Dinah sat beside him. Segal looked at the two of them there and thought there were very few guys who wouldn’t tell her everything she wanted to know. Most cops, especially detectives, cultivated an edge of intimidation. Even when they were talking to someone who was trying to help, it was there, below the surface. Segal didn’t have that and didn’t want it. He was glad to see Dinah didn’t have it either—no need of domination for domination’s sake.

  Andrew started turning pages, most containing pictures of dogs, mostly German shepherds, some by themselves, some action shots of dogs jumping over barricades, some posing with servicemen kneeling by their sides. Presently, he stopped and put his finger on a glossy photograph.

  “There, that’s the one I was thinking of,” he said.

  Dinah leaned in and Segal followed. The picture showed Andrew Roche dressed in army fatigues standing beside Francis Elah. Francis was dressed in a khaki shirt and blue jeans and a ball cap. The two men had their arms around each other’s shoulders in the universal pose of brotherhood. A German shepherd was
standing by Andrew, and on Elah’s outstretched arm was a large crow. The two men and the dog were all beaming full smiles at the camera. The crow was in profile with its beak wide open, perhaps in mid-squawk.

  “You guys look really happy,” Dinah said.

  “Oh, man! You cannot believe how good it was to see him. I mean, you’re over there, everything is strange and dangerous, and then out of the blue someone from home shows up. Especially someone like Francis. It was great.” Andrew seemed to brighten again remembering.

  “This was in Kabul?” Dinah asked.

  “Yeah, I was there on my second tour, or maybe my third. It all kind of flows together after a while.” At this point, he stopped, and a tiny shadow crossed his face like a cloud passing over the sun. His hand shook. It was the first glimpse they had of the illness that was keeping him in the facility. However, he quickly regained his composure and continued. “Francis was there only two or three days, but still it was great.”

  “I can believe it,” Dinah said.

  Segal studied the picture. As he often did, he focused past the main subjects at details in the background. In the distance, he saw a clear line of mountains with a few clouds. Nearer to the camera were some tents and military vehicles. Closer still, behind and to the right of the main subjects, was a woman in profile. She had dark hair of medium length pulled together and sticking out from underneath a military cap. However, she was not in uniform. She wore dark glasses and seemed to be in conversation with an officer, yet her glance appeared sideways at Andrew and Francis.

  “Who’s the lady there in the background?” he asked.

  Andrew blinked at the picture. “A mystery lady. Very good looking, but she didn’t mix with us. She came in on the same flight as Francis. Didn’t wear a uniform but seemed kind of military anyway. Know what I mean?”

  Dinah nodded and shifted a little.

  Segal didn’t understand exactly what he meant but took him at his word.

  Andrew continued. “I noticed her talking to a couple of the officers, including a guy who was there with some kind of special forces squad. Whatever she was talking about, they seemed to listen closely. She talked to Francis, too. Hell, she even talked to the Cormorant guys, and nobody talked to them.”