While loading his gear and without turning around, Mehdi said, “Somewhere over there,” lifting his chin toward the western portion of the estate. Mehdi had a way of making you feel like a servant.
The bestiary was in that direction, and Carter didn’t doubt that was where he was. Even with all the air-conditioning equipment and temperature controls working fine, the animals would be sensitive enough to register that something was going on, and al-Kalli would be worried. Rashid, if Carter’s guess was correct, was probably in a panic.
And now, here was Carter accompanied by an unofficial interloper.
“Just come with me,” Carter said to Del, getting out of the truck. “And promise me you won’t do or say anything until I tell you to.”
“You know, Bones, it’s a lucky thing I’m not the type that gets easily offended.”
“I was counting on that.”
With Carter leading the way, they trotted around the garage wing of the courtyard and then across the sweeping green lawn.
“Doesn’t look like this guy has been observing the drought restrictions,” Del said.
“Al-Kalli lives by his own rules,” Carter said.
“Looks like he can afford to.”
As their footsteps clattered across the wooden footbridge, they heard a loud, strangled cry from a grove of trees. Glancing over, Carter could just make out one of the peacocks, its purple and blue tail fanned out in all its glory.
“There’s more of those?” Del said from close behind.
“Maybe a dozen,” Carter said. “I’ve never counted.”
They passed the stables, which looked as if they were almost empty. The stall doors were open, and a sleek white horse was being led out by Bashir, the stable boy. He raised a hand in greeting as Carter and Del jogged past, then went back to leading the visibly skittish horse.
“Where’d this guy get all his money?” Del said, barely huffing or puffing.
“It’s very old money.” The top of the bestiary building was just coming into view past a scrim of trees. “From Iraq.”
Del whistled. “Friend of Saddam’s?”
“Nope,” Carter replied. “His sworn enemy.”
As Carter slowed down, Del did, too. “Someday,” Del said, “when we’re not on the run, you can explain it all to me. Sounds like a hell of a story.”
“It is.” But Carter was already on the alert, approaching the white walls of the bestiary; the golf cart was parked just outside.
“What’s this?” Del said. “A high-tech barn?”
“Kind of.” Carter turned to Del. “Now, you’re just going to have to trust me. I want you to stay out of sight. Get behind those trees,” he said, indicating a pair of ancient eucalyptus trees with thick, gnarled trunks, “and don’t come out until I signal you to.”
Del chuckled, like what kind of a game was this. “Okay. But what do you want me to call you from now on—Bond, James Bond?” He thought Carter must be joking.
Carter stepped closer and looked him straight in the eye. “I mean this, Del. I shouldn’t have brought you even this far. These can be dangerous people. You’ve got to do what I’m telling you.”
Del got it; the look on Carter’s face was unmistakable. “Okay, Bones. I hear ya.” And he moved off behind the trees.
As Carter approached the bestiary doors, he could smell smoke, but this was just the cigarette kind. He even knew who was probably smoking.
“Captain Greer?” he called out, and Greer stepped out from the other side of the building, cupping his cigarette in his hand.
“What are you doing here, Cox?” Greer asked. “It’s a holiday. Take a break.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“And I wouldn’t answer.”
Carter never knew what footing he was on with Greer; they usually engaged in this same sort of macho banter, but with Greer there was always an edge of danger to it. Carter couldn’t tell if Greer regarded him as a threat of some kind, or just another one of al-Kalli’s lackeys.
“Is he inside?” Carter asked, and Greer nodded.
“But you don’t want to cross him right now,” Greer added, stubbing out his cigarette on the gravel path. “He’s tearing Rashid a new asshole.”
Carter wasn’t surprised. Ever since Carter had begun working with the animals, he had seen, many times firsthand, the contempt, and even physical abuse, with which al-Kalli treated Rashid. And it never failed to occur to Carter that, unless he was somehow able to restore the animals to perfect health, it was just a matter of time before that same fury was directed at him. He did not doubt that al-Kalli had it in him to take any measure he chose, however dire, against those he considered his enemies, or his incompetent subordinates.
“I expected the animals to be restive,” Carter said. “Maybe I can do something.” And he went to the doors and pressed the release button; Greer limped along close beside him, and it occurred to Carter that Greer was trying to make it look to al-Kalli as though Greer was escorting him in, doing his job as security chief and monitoring everyone’s comings and goings. Around al-Kalli, no one was ever off duty, or on a sure footing.
Certainly not Rashid. Just as Carter entered the bestiary, he saw al-Kalli lift his open hand and deliver a stunning slap to Rashid’s cheek, a slap that sent him down to his knees.
“Why don’t you know?” al-Kalli was shouting, as Jakob stood by, arms folded across his chest. “This is your job! This has been your family’s job for centuries! I paid for the best training in the world!” He put his foot on the man’s chest and shoved him backward onto the dirt floor. “I should have fed you to them years ago!”
“But no one knows about creatures like these,” Rashid pleaded, his open lab coat spread around him. “There are no books, no papers to read.” His eyes suddenly took in Carter and Greer. “But here is Dr. Cox!” he said exultantly. “Perhaps he can help! Yes, Dr. Cox may know!”
Al-Kalli turned around, and the look of absolute contempt on his face barely changed. He wasn’t wearing his customary suit today—just a pair of perfectly tailored dark trousers and a crisp white shirt with billowing sleeves; ruby links gleamed like flame at the cuffs. His bald head shone in the bright overhead lights. “Dr. Cox, you’ve come at an opportune time,” he said, sounding like an English aristocrat welcoming the family physician to the manor house. “The animals are restless and agitated today.”
“I thought they might be,” Carter said. “Their sense of smell is highly developed, and even the hint of smoke from the wildfires might have alarmed them.”
“I thought we had an air filtration system for that.”
“We do. But it’s even possible that they’re picking up some sort of vibrations through the earth. Some animals can sense earthquakes coming—perhaps these can sense the fires.”
Al-Kalli shook his head derisively. “‘Perhaps’ they can do this, ‘it’s possible’ they can do that. I’m sorry to say it, but you’re starting to sound as bad as this worthless scum Rashid.”
Carter couldn’t stand it a second longer, and he started to move toward Rashid with his hand extended to help him up.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” al-Kalli said in a low but menacing tone. “We have an old saying, ‘Let the dead lie where they fall.’”
Jakob stepped between them and unfolded his arms.
“I told you, when I hired you,” al-Kalli went on, “that I would give anything at all to the one who could restore my creatures to health.”
“We’ve made progress already,” Carter said, though he did not try to circumvent Jakob.
“What I did not tell you,” al-Kalli went on, completely ignoring what Carter had just said, “was that I would show little patience with those who failed. That’s only fair, don’t you think?”
While Carter debated how to reply, he saw al-Kalli look with amazement toward the open doors of the bestiary. Jakob reached into the waistband of his black trousers, but before he could pull out the gun that presumably res
ted there, Carter heard a voice call out, “Don’t even think about it, raghead!”
Carter turned around, as did Greer, and what he saw was a man in army fatigues, a big man with close-cropped hair and a knapsack slung over one shoulder, striding into the arena with a gun hanging loosely from one hand. Even worse, fanning out behind him were two more men, also in army gear, each one holding, incongruously, an aluminum baseball bat.
Only Greer seemed to know instantly what was going on.
“Sadowski,” he said, shaking his head, “this time you’ve really fucked up.”
“That so? Sure doesn’t look that way to me.” Sadowski looked around at the vast facility. “This that zoo you were talking about? ’Cause I don’t see any critters.”
Al-Kalli leveled a glare at Captain Greer. “You know this man?” he said. “You told him about this place?”
At that moment, Carter recognized him—this was the guy he and Del had run into on the hiking trail in Temescal, the guy who’d attacked the girl and her boyfriend. He also knew there was a strong possibility that if everyone wasn’t very, very careful over the next few minutes, somebody could wind up hurt, or worse.
“He served under me in Iraq,” Greer said.
“Whatever your name is—was it Sadowski?” al-Kalli said, addressing the intruder, “you’re trespassing, and I would be within my rights to kill you on the spot.”
Sadowski raised the gun a few inches and, in answer, fired a round into the dirt in front of al-Kalli’s feet. But al-Kalli, to Carter’s astonishment, didn’t so much as flinch; he behaved as if he were invulnerable.
The animals heard the shot, though, and suddenly there was a howl from the griffin’s cage, a rumbling snort from one of the basilisks. The phoenix, from its perch high above them, let out a piercing scream, a thousand times worse than the cry of the peacocks, and even Sadowski looked up, rattled.
“What the fuck is that?” he said. The monstrous bird was still concealed in its straw-filled nest.
“You don’t want to know,” Greer said. “You and your boys just want to get out of here . . . while you still can.”
Carter didn’t know what he feared more—harm coming to one of the people present, or harm to the animals, surely the last of their kind, that had by some miracle survived for millennia.
“What is your plan, soldier?” al-Kalli taunted him. “Or are you as stupid as most Americans—blundering in where you have no business, and with no idea of how to get out again?”
“Oh, I’ve got a plan,” Sadowski said. He glanced at a massive black and chrome wristwatch. “And trust me—you’re going to find out all about it.”
“And what do we do until then?”
Carter heard a metallic screech, and saw Rashid, who had quietly gotten to his feet, yanking a lever in the concrete wall.
Sadowski shouted, “What are you doing?” at him, but Rashid simply turned and ran toward the glassed-in office at the far end of the bestiary, zigging and zagging with his cupped hands attempting to protect the back of his head. Sadowski cursed, and fired another round, the wild shot sparking off the bars of the griffin’s cage.
The phoenix screamed again, and this time Carter knew it would emerge from its aerie. He looked up just as its massive hooked beak poked over the edge of its nest and its claws, in preparation for flight, wrapped themselves around the rim of the platform. Sadowski and his two accomplices stared upward, slack-jawed.
With a sudden, even ungainly, lurch, the phoenix plummeted from its nest, then spread its wings, the width of a school bus, and soared above their heads. The two soldiers behind Sadowski fell back a few steps, and as the bird came lower, heading, Carter suddenly realized, for the open doors behind them, one of the two—the one with a bell tattooed on his bare forearm—took a furious swing at it with the aluminum bat. The end of the bat caught the claws with a loud crack, and the bird, squawking in pain, wheeled in the air and beat a retreat toward the other end of the bestiary.
“I got it!” the tattooed man cried, his voice filled with as much terror as exultation. “I got the bastard!”
But the phoenix wasn’t done—it simply coasted in a great slow circle, then with one more beat of its red-feathered wings, a beat that sent a shivering wind through the whole facility, it shot back toward the open doors. Sadowski fired, missed, but the bird had its prehensile claws extended; there was a look of fire in its eyes and its vulture-like head was tucked into its body. It went straight for its attacker, and before he could even think to swing the bat again, the phoenix had snatched him up in its claws—one of the talons appeared to tear completely through the man’s body—and then, with its wings folded back like a missile, it flashed through the open doors and out of sight.
Dust from its exit filled the air. And all that was left of the tattooed man was an aluminum bat lying in the dirt.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sadowski said in a tone of mechanical disbelief, and Greer said, “Didn’t I tell you you’d fucked up?”
The other man with a bat stood stunned, looking at the spot where his accomplice had been just seconds ago. Then, throwing his own bat on the ground, he turned without a word and ran out the doors . . . leaving Sadowski to fend for himself.
It was only then that Carter thought to look at the row of cages—and saw that the lever Rashid had pulled had opened all of their gates at once. The animals had not yet realized their freedom, but they would, soon. Greer must have reached the same conclusion because he suddenly made for the lever.
Sadowski shouted, “Hold it!” and fired again, and this time Greer collapsed, blood spurting from his right thigh. “God damn you, Sadowski! That was my good leg!”
“I told you not to move!”
But something now was moving—and it was at the farthest cage, the one that held the gorgon. Carter saw the tip of its enormous snout protrude from the open gate, as if it wasn’t sure if this was a trap or not. Then its head came out entirely, and swung, like a huge pendulum, from one direction to the other, taking in the whole arena.
Jakob stepped between al-Kalli and the emerging monster, drawing out his gun, but al-Kalli angrily batted it out of his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Jakob looked at a total loss; he’d thought he was doing his job.
“It won’t harm me.”
It was then that Carter realized just how mad Mohammed al-Kalli really was.
The beast approached slowly, still swinging its ponderous head from side to side so that its bulbous eyes, situated far back on either side of its skull, could take in the whole landscape. It was like watching a tank rumble cautiously across land-mined terrain.
Jakob walked backward, never taking his eyes off the animal, and toward Sadowski, who was speechless and immobilized.
But al-Kalli actually took several steps forward. He opened his arms, the white sleeves billowing, and said something, not in English, to the beast.
Carter knew that the creature would be attuned to movement, that it would notice whatever was in motion, so he tried to make his own retreat as subtle as possible. When the animal’s snout was pointed directly at him, temporarily limiting its vision, he took a giant step back. And then, seconds later, another. He glanced backward, over his shoulder, but Jakob and Sadowski were already gone.
Greer, too, was hobbling toward the doors, using one of the aluminum bats as a makeshift cane and leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
The doors to the outside were still wide open, the waning sunlight casting a golden pool on the hard-packed earth just inside the entrance.
Al-Kalli spoke again, in Arabic it seemed, and Carter detected movement behind the gates where the basilisks and the griffin were kept. At any moment they, too, could stagger from their enormous pens and into the greater world beyond.
The gorgon, with its stumpy legs splayed out from its body like a gigantic toad, stopped a dozen yards or so from al-Kalli. As both a reptile and a mammal, a bizarre precursor of the dinosaurs and the large
land mammals to come, it displayed a strange collection of traits: Its skin was green and scaly, like a crocodile’s, but it was also tufted here and there with clumps of grizzled black fur. Its eyes were large and lizardlike; it had no visible ears, just hollow indentations well behind the eyes; canine fangs, shaped like sabers, grew down from its upper jaw; and a long, thick, serpentlike tail dragged along the ground behind it.
Al-Kalli spoke again, in the soothing tones you might use to calm a nervous stallion, and he even held up one hand as if he were prepared to stroke the neck of the waiting beast.
Carter had never seen the creature so clearly as he saw it now; usually, it was lurking in the back of its pen, or hidden altogether in the enormous rocky grotto provided at its rear. It didn’t like to be fully exposed; it shied away from the light. But now, as he studied its stance—its terrifying head held high, its broad, clawed feet planted firmly on the ground, its jaws parted—he knew what was about to happen . . . and even if he’d found a way to warn al-Kalli, to tell him that he was exposing himself to the most ruthless predator the planet had ever known, the man would never have listened.
And there wasn’t time, anyway.
Carter saw the gorgon lower its body, gathering strength, and then, like an enormous jumping bullfrog, it leapt into the air and landed, claws extended and already tearing at him, on top of al-Kalli. He screamed once, but the gorgon quickly put a stop to that, dropping its jaws and snapping his head off with a swift, sideways ripping motion; the head rolled to one side, the mouth still open, the eyes still staring, as the gorgon shredded the flesh it still squatted over.
Carter, knowing there was no time to waste, made a run for it, racing toward the open doors. The gorgon would make quick work of al-Kalli, and be right back on the hunt again. He bolted outside, and nearly crashed into Del, who was just about to run in.
“What’s going on?” Del said as he grabbed Carter’s shoulders. “What’s in that place?”
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