Elefant

by Martin Suter

  ‘No thanks, I’ve got to drive.’

  ‘Oh, but it would help. It’s even more difficult to find sober.’

  Pellegrini took one, paid immediately and gave her a tip. She took a beermat and drew him a sort of map.

  When he opened the door to the porch he heard one of the farmers call out, ‘That was the guy from Circus Pellegrini, the director in person!’

  He found the first two turnoffs without difficulty. But he had to spend a long time looking for the third. Now there were a few centimetres of snow on the ground and the road he was meant to take had no tracks on it.

  He drove slowly and with dipped headlights over the virgin snow, which was falling ever more thickly. He didn’t see the lit-up window until he was almost right in front of the building. Pellegrini turned off his engine, got out and went over to the light. All that now marked the path to the house was a gentle depression in the white. He passed through an open gate on which hung a weather-beaten sign. He was able to make out the name ‘Brudermatte’.

  On an impulse he left the path, walked up to the bench that stood beneath the lit-up window and climbed on it. By stretching he could peer into the room.

  Reber was crouched on the floor, feeding a – tiny pink elephant!

  Pellegrini had to get back down on his heels.

  Had he seen correctly? A pink dwarf elephant?

  He went on tiptoes again. There was no doubt about it: that was a tiny elephant! Reber was holding out a little piece of something to the creature, who grasped it with its trunk and put it in its mouth like a big elephant.

  Asha’s foetus that refused to grow! She hadn’t lost it; she’d given birth to her baby and Reber had stolen it! And Kaung was in on the act – he was helping rear the baby elephant with Rupashi’s milk.

  Pellegrini pondered the situation as he stood on the bench. Should he ring the bell and confront Reber?

  He had a better idea. He took his mobile from his breast pocket, held it up to the window and filmed for a good minute. Then he viewed the result. He couldn’t use the footage; his hand had been too shaky. Pellegrini made a second attempt, this time pressing the mobile against the window to stabilise it.

  Now the picture was sharp. You could see Reber feeding the animal. All of a sudden Reber glanced up and looked as if he were staring straight into the camera. But the mini elephant wound its trunk expectantly around Reber’s thumb and he turned back to his charge.

  What Reber had here wasn’t just a scientific sensation; it was a walking fortune!

  Pellegrini put his mobile away and got down from the bench. But rather than go to the door, he went the way he’d come, back to his car. He’d decided not to take any risks. He would show the video to Roux, who could make up his own mind whether or not to go to the police.

  It was snowing so heavily that he could only see faint outlines of the footprints he’d made a few minutes ago.

  15

  Circus Pellegrini

  6 June 2016

  Roux could feel the blood rushing to his face.

  He was sitting – Pellegrini had insisted that he sit – on the visitors’ chair by the huge desk in the director’s wagon. The director had turned the screen 180 degrees and stood beside the chair.

  He realised at once that the sly bastard had screwed him like no one had ever screwed him before! That crook had diddled him out of the fruits of his many years of work!

  Thoughts wildly assailed his mind. Victim! Deprivation! Debts! Silent partner! Failed experiments in Austria! Six months without driving licence! Miscarriage? Rubbish! Bright and cheery! The Burmese attendant! Dishonest swine!

  ‘Again!’ he commanded.

  Roux put on his glasses and Pellegrini played the video through once more. It was perfect, his creature! Moving and behaving just like a young elephant! But it would fit onto a sheet of A4 paper! And it was pink! Perfect! He wouldn’t be surprised if it glowed in the dark too! Sensational! His creature!

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Before I tell you that we need to agree on a few conditions – I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘Conditions?’ The blood surged to Roux’s cheeks again.

  ‘Well, the circumstances have changed. We’re no longer dealing with a failed experiment. Now there are different financial arrangements. Quite different ones.’

  Roux gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘When I get hold of the result, money will no longer be an issue.’

  ‘So let’s discuss it briefly.’

  ‘Briefly.’

  ‘You owe me for Asha’s care and upkeep according to the terms we negotiated for a successful procedure.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Plus the bonus we agreed if it was successful.’

  Roux nodded.

  ‘And a reward for finding the creature.’

  This was too much for Roux. ‘Your people nick the result of the research project and you want me to pay you a reward for finding it again? You know what? I’ll find out myself where Reber’s shacked up.’

  ‘No you won’t. You see, if you leave here without us having reached an agreement, I’ll warn Reber. Then you can go hunting for your pink miracle.’

  Roux thought about it. Finally he asked, ‘What sort of reward did you have in mind?’

  ‘When the time comes for you to present the animal to the public, Circus Pellegrini will have exclusive rights. For thirty performances my circus will be the only place on earth where the miraculous creature can be seen. I will determine the entrance prices and other conditions.’

  Roux looked at him in disbelief. ‘We’re not talking about a circus act here. This is a highly important research project!’

  Pellegrini laughed. ‘In a few years’ time there’ll be dozens of research results like this. Patented and on the market at outrageous prices. What do you bet?’

  They eventually agreed on fifteen performances, with Roux getting a small share of the takings.

  16

  The same day

  Roux’s feelings were still swinging between anger and euphoria, hatred and bliss. He’d done it! Although it hadn’t gone smoothly, it had worked. Wow! He, Paul Roux, had made a scientific breakthrough; those other glowing animals were nothing next to this! And those had won their creators the Nobel Prize. Yes, he’d achieved a chance outcome, but wasn’t St Chance the patron saint of researchers? Obviously he wouldn’t be able to publish his findings until he’d found out how the dwarfism had come about, but he had the cell material. The clonable cell material! And he had the partner who possessed the technical knowhow and expertise to manufacture the product – in significant quantities – as well as the power to establish it on the market. He didn’t need a Nobel Prize. The esteem and commercial success he would obtain would be more than sufficient to put Professor Gebstein deeply in the shade, where he belonged.

  Roux knew that right now he mustn’t let himself be steered by feelings of jealousy. There would be plenty of time for that later. Now he had to keep his cool; he needed a plan and he needed his silent partner.

  17

  Beijing

  The same day

  CGC was in an industrial area of Beijing, two hours from the centre in normal traffic. But those who worked there rarely travelled into the centre. Most lived in one of the large nearby housing complexes that all looked exactly the same.

  Such sameness didn’t bother them; they were used to it from their work. One of the most important interests of the Chinese Genetic Company was cloning.

  An even more important mainstay of its activity was sequencing, the decryption of genetic codes. CGC carried out this work so rapidly and economically that for western laboratories it was often more efficient and cheaper to send their cells to China.

  CGC wasn’t the largest genetic factory in China, but it was one of the largest. It employed around 2,000 laboratory workers, technicians, chemists, doctors and other specialists.

  Right now a few of them were sitting in one of the many confer
ence rooms, watching for the umpteenth time the video being beamed onto the screen at the end of the table by a powerful, hi-res projector.

  The men and women were all talking at once. Excitedly, someone familiar with such company might say. They were debating whether the tiny pink elephant on the screen being fed by a slightly overweight man was mechanical or alive, real or a special effect. And they weren’t in agreement. But those who believed the elephant was real were in the majority. It was nonetheless decided to send the material to the IT department and let the specialists check whether the creature had been morphed. The employees arranged to reconvene in an hour and the meeting broke up.

  Exactly one hour later the specialist confirmed that the material hadn’t been manipulated. At that point the circle of those present was reduced to the higher management. After a brief consultation, they decided to delegate the matter to the very top.

  Following a lengthy discussion, the directors called in the head of security, who immediately briefed Tseng Tian and provided him with the necessary papers and equipment.

  Just before seven o’clock the following morning, Tseng Tian was in economy class on board Air China CA5621 to Zürich.

  18

  Graufeld

  The same day

  Brudermatte Farm on that early morning was like a picture from an Advent calendar. The thick layer of new snow on the roof and garden stood out against a blackish-blue sky where a thin sickle of moon and a few stars lingered. Two lit-up windows cast their light onto the glittering white. A bright column of smoke rose from the chimney into the daybreak.

  Reber was kneeling in front of the stove to light it. Barisha stood beside him, swinging her trunk impatiently. On the cooker was a pan heating her bottle in warm water. On the other hotplate stood Reber’s old aluminium coffee pot with its glazed lid. He loved the smell of hot coffee in a cold farmhouse kitchen.

  The fire burned. Reber hauled himself to his feet. Seriously out of shape, he thought, especially for someone who had equalled the Swiss 400-metre medley record back in his student swimming days.

  He filled a large cup of warmed-up coffee, added some sugar, took the baby bottle from the water bath, checked the temperature of the milk on the inside of his wrist, sat on the end of the corner bench beside the kitchen table with both coffee and milk, and started feeding Barisha.

  For almost ten months Reber had been doing this five times a day – and occasionally at night too, if she demanded – but he’d never tired of it. On the contrary, he enjoyed it each time. His longest love story to date.

  He fried two eggs and ate them with the farmhouse bread that Frau Huber brought him from the village bakery. This bread was partially responsible for his excess weight. He devoured it like cake. And between mouthfuls he gave Barisha bite-size pieces of apple and carrot.

  After breakfast he took her outside. It wasn’t Barisha’s first experience of snow, but she still found it mysterious. She plodded around circumspectly and with stiff legs, stopping every few steps and lifting one foot, then another to warm them a little.

  Reber watched Barisha for a while before taking pity on her and lifting her up.

  As he was going back inside he noticed on his bench beneath the window something resembling old footprints. Faint, barely apparent dents in the new snow.

  When he took a closer look Reber also saw some that led from the bench to the path, then became lost among his own, fresh footprints.

  Just the hint of some tracks. Perhaps a fox seeking some warmth.

  19

  Zürich

  7 June 2016

  This time Roux arrived punctually at the airport. He was in the arrivals hall, holding a sign that read ‘Mr Tseng’. He felt like a chauffeur.

  The video hadn’t failed to make an impact. He had barely sent the file link to his contact when his mobile rang. Roux had briefly outlined the circumstances and situation, and had been made to promise that he would do nothing until they called again.

  It was almost three hours before the second call came. ‘Play it safe’ was the watchword. Act perfectly normally. Everything as usual. Do nothing that might offer any clue that something extraordinary had happened. Don’t let anyone in on it who didn’t know already. Did anyone else know? Yes? Then make sure they behaved in exactly the same way. ‘Don’t make a move. No police. Until our man comes. Play it safe.’

  Tseng was taller than Roux had imagined; he towered above him. His shoulder-length hair was tied into a ponytail and he must have been around thirty years of age.

  He travelled with a small piece of hand luggage and a large suitcase. Both were on wheels but he carried them as if they weighed nothing. He’d spotted Roux’s sign and now was coming towards him with large strides. Roux put on a smile, but Tseng didn’t return it. He was on a serious mission.

  Tseng greeted him with an iron handshake and a formal ‘How do you do, Mr Roux?’ that sounded like ‘Ro-uggs’.

  ‘Ru,’ Roux corrected him.

  On their way to the car park Roux plied his guest with small talk, asking about the flight and whether this was his first visit to Switzerland. Tseng’s answers were monosyllabic.

  Before they got into the car the Chinese man went on his hands and knees and checked the undercarriage with a small LED lamp. Then he searched the boot with rapid, professional hand movements. He opened the bonnet and gave that a thorough inspection, and finally he undertook a meticulous examination of the BMW’s interior.

  Only then did he take his place in the passenger seat.

  Roux watched Tseng in silence, considering his security measures over the top. Now he sat behind the wheel.

  ‘Play it safe,’ the Chinese man said.

  On the drive to the hotel Roux was given his instructions. He felt just like a chauffeur again.

  20

  Circus Pellegrini

  11 June 2016

  Strange, Reber thought when he hung up. Everything had been fine with Trisha on his last visit and the next one wasn’t due for a fortnight.

  Pellegrini had called and asked him to come by specially. He wasn’t happy with Trisha.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘I’d like to get your opinion on that. She’s behaving funnily somehow.’

  ‘What does Kaung think?’

  Pellegrini sounded irritated. ‘Can you come or should I ask Dr Hess?’

  Reber promised to be there in a couple of hours.

  Couldn’t he come sooner? Pellegrini asked.

  He was on his way to a patient, Reber lied. He could hardly tell Pellegrini that Barisha was due her next feed in an hour.

  ‘You do house visits on Saturdays too?’

  ‘I’m afraid animals don’t stick to working hours,’ came Reber’s reply. As soon as he was off the phone he sent Kaung a text with their agreed message. ‘Call,’ it said.

  It was twenty minutes before Kaung was able to phone in private. Reber told him about Pellegrini’s call and asked what was wrong with Trisha.

  ‘Trisha okay,’ Kaung replied.

  ‘Pellegrini says he’s worried. That she’s behaving funnily.’

  ‘Trisha okay. But director funny.’

  Reber laughed. ‘Isn’t he always?’

  ‘Now nervous too. Perhaps because of China man.’

  ‘What sort of China man?’

  ‘Is here.’

  ‘An artiste?’

  ‘Too tall for artiste.’

  An hour later Reber fed Barisha, took her to the stable, left some twigs, locked the door and drove off.

  It had turned a little warmer, but there were still patches of snow by the side of the road.

  During the drive to Dondikon he mulled over what might be behind this. Not once since he’d started looking after the circus elephants had Pellegrini ever called himself. If there was something out of the ordinary Kaung would have taken the initiative. Kaung knew when an elephant needed a vet.

  The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed. It w
as as if Pellegrini were looking for an excuse to meet him. Did he suspect?

  He briefly considered turning around, but then he put his concern down to the paranoia that had gripped him since Barisha’s birth. Reber drove on.

  Dondikon Common was a gloomy place even in the sunshine. Nearby were a few industrial buildings, pig sheds, farmhouses with enormous silos, a community hall, a petrol station and an exhibition space for agricultural equipment and vehicles. In the near distance was a wood, and where it met a narrow road stood a sign that read: ‘Shooting Range’. There was a field with a few sad cows, and in front of it the common where Circus Pellegrini was set up.

  Reber parked his SUV in the car park, took his case from the boot and went to the director’s caravan.

  Having seen him approach through the window, Pellegrini opened the door before Reber could ring the bell. ‘Thanks for coming so quickly,’ he said. ‘Shall we go and see her straight away?’

  On the way to the animal tent Pellegrini remarked, ‘I may be mistaken, I mean I’m not exactly an elephant expert.’ He followed this with a nervous laugh.

  ‘Better to have rung the doctor one too many times,’ Reber said, in direct contradiction to what he believed.

  Trisha was in the pen beside Rupashi. Kaung was there, mucking out the stalls. He nodded to the two men and wheeled out the barrow full of dung.

  Reber looked at the elephant cow. ‘What struck you about her?’

  ‘She’s just different from usual. Unsettled. Nervous. Jumpy.’

  Reber walked around Trisha, patted her trunk, looked into her eyes and lifted her tail.

  ‘Any external indications? Discharge, diarrhoea, mucus?’

  Pellegrini thought about this. ‘No, I didn’t notice anything concrete. It’s more of a feeling. Quite possibly I’m mistaken. But I just don’t want to lose another calf.’