Chasing Harpo

by Alan Black

  The man shook Jack’s hand and smiled back. “I am Allen Chestnut, head of zoo security. The major is just an honorary thing…now. I quit working on being a real major when I left the army and joined this outfit.” He patted his oversized stomach. “I gave up the battle to be fit and trim. I am just a desk monkey now. I leave the running and exercise to my younger staff. They stay fit and I keep us organized.”

  Jack smiled. His five mile run every day kept his body trim. He could certainly understand the desire to stop running, especially on those freezing winter mornings when the only time to run was before sun up.

  Jack said, “I am not so much in charge as a liaison between organizations.”

  Chestnut blew a raspberry and said, “Somebody better take charge, because my charter ends at the edge of the zoo. And our objective is on the move outside of zoo property.”

  Jack asked, “We sure Dr. Marks and Harpo have left the zoo?”

  Chestnut raised an eyebrow at Jack’s use of Harpo’s first name. “You on a first name basis with the orange gentleman?” The smile on the man’s face took the edge off the snippy question.

  Jack said, “Sort of, at least until he tells me not to.” He tapped the glass to the jungle compound. “I have stood at this window often enough that I should qualify for part-time pay.”

  Chestnut said, “Good. Maybe you can help corral some of these city cops. They are talking like this is going to be a hunting trip with Harpo’s head as a trophy on somebody’s wall.”

  A city police sergeant walked up to the pair. “Can anyone join this confab?”

  Jack said, “The more the merrier. I am Jack Kee-”

  The sergeant interrupted, “Yeah. I got a call from my captain. He told me to expect you. He gave me the lowdown on this jurisdictional nightmare. Since, you are in charge, let’s get this movin’. We got a madman and a rabid monkey running loose in the city.”

  Both men looked at Jack expectantly.

  Jack said, “Gentlemen, I don’t see myself in charge so much as helping to coordinate our efforts. From what I can see, you are on top of this and everything is going smoothly. However, we don’t have any legal standing to go gunning for Harpo or Dr. Marks at this time.” He looked at the major. “Is the zoo planning on charging Dr. Marks with theft of the ape?”

  Chestnut shook his head. “If Dr. Marks brings Harpo back, unharmed, then we see no reason to file charges against him.”

  The sergeant turned red in the face. “Charges against Marks? We have got to get that monkey. It has already killed two men. Who knows what else it is capable of?”

  Jack said, “That is not our call, Sergeant. When we get a judicial order, we can do what is required of us. For now, we are going to work together to take Marks and Harpo into protective custody.”

  The sergeant said with a sneer, “Yeah, get them out of zoo custody. That shoot ‘em up the other night showed us how good security is around here.”

  Major Chestnut’s eyes became slits and he stepped up, nose-to-nose with the much bigger police officer. “I had a good man killed that night. He was an ex-policeman working a night job to help raise his grandkids. He was good security.”

  The sergeant sneered, “Probably a lazy drinker when he was on the job, and now he is dead, ain’t he. That tells us something about how good he was.”

  Chestnut’s fist clenched, “He was killed by a gang that you and your cop buddies have not been able to run out of town, so don’t talk to me about good.”

  Jack slid between the two men, “Gentlemen, this is all beside the point. There is a hearing going on, as we speak, to determine the fate of the ape. I can only assume that Dr. Marks took the orangutan to protect him from any negative outcome. Our job is simply to locate and take possession of the male orangutan known as Harpo. We will deal with the judicial order when we have it, not before. And we are going to need to work together to get this done.”

  Chestnut stepped back, “Sir, just tell me what you need.”

  The sergeant said, “We need you to keep out of our way. We don’t need no rent-a-cops-”

  Jack interrupted, “That is enough, Sergeant. We are going to work as a team, or should someone call your captain and get you replaced.”

  The sergeant said, “You got the juice, Statey?”

  Jack smiled. It was not a sincere smile, but it was a smile. He said, “I doubt it. But, I didn’t say I was going to call. I said ‘someone’. I will call the Attorney General and have him make the call. That enough juice for you?”

  When the sergeant did not reply, Jack continued, “Good. Let’s all start singing in harmony, shall we?”

  He looked at Chestnut. “Are you sure that Dr. Marks has left the zoo property.”

  The major said, “I had a couple of guys running through security tapes. They have a clear view of Marks and Harpo in Dr. Marks’ car.”

  “Okay. Access logs?” Jack asked.

  “Clearly show only Marks entering this compound in the last twenty-four hours. We have had the orangutan on lockdown. No one in and no one out. He had been locked out from his shrewdness.”

  The sergeant frowned, “From his what?”

  Jack said, “Shrewdness is what you call a bunch of apes. Like a barrel of monkeys, a murder of crows, or a litter of puppies. Shrewdness.” He grinned at Chestnut. “That is kind of appropriate for a smart ape, don’t you think?”

  Chestnut said, “Harpo is smart. We have determined he knows how to punch in the access codes on the compound locks. That is how he got out the other night.”

  The sergeant said, “Got out and killed a couple of civilians.”

  Chestnut looked coldly at the cop. “Civilians who had already killed an ex-policeman and critically stabbed another zoo employee. I say good riddance.”

  The sergeant said, “Civilians who had not been found guilty of anything-”

  Chestnut spat back, “Neither has Harpo, but you and your men are already talking about killing him.”

  Jack said calmly, “This isn’t-”

  The sergeant interrupted. “None of this would have happened if you zoo rent-a-cops did your job and secured this place. Maybe the other civilians wouldn’t have gotten away if you were-”

  Chestnut said, “Maybe now we can get the city to change our charter so that we can at least be armed for something like this. Then none of those criminals would have left the grounds.”

  Jack shouted, “Stop it. I am done with your bickering. Got me? The next comment that is not on the business at hand gets that man removed from this investigation.”

  He pointed at the zoo employee on a bench under a tree. The man sat comfortably, “That man has a rifle, Major Chestnut. I thought you said your team didn’t go armed.”

  Chestnut did not even glance at the man. “That is Steve with a tranquilizer gun. It is standard procedure for any time any animal is out of his cage.”

  Jack asked, “It will drop Harpo?”

  “Like a rock, but he will wake up from it and not end up with his head on a wall.”

  “Fair enough,” Jack decided to ignore the major’s jab at the police department. “Is Steve any good?”

  Chestnut said, “He spends more time on the gun range than he does with his girlfriend. I would trust Steve to bring down a charging rhino if I was in its path.”

  Jack said, “Good. Steve is with me until this is over. We catch the ape, alive and well protected, until we have a judicial order saying otherwise. That is our goal. Dr. Marks is ancillary until the zoo decides to file charges. That is our whole objective.”

  Both men nodded.

  Jack said, “Major Chestnut, please treat the access logs and those security tapes of Marks leaving with Harpo as evidence. They aren’t now, but they might be later. You have men who understand the chain of evidence custody, so I will leave that in your hands. Any idea on where Dr. Marks might take Harpo?”

  Chestnut said, “I had a couple of men read through his file. The police have wrecked his office looki
ng for clues and we have both asked everybody who worked for or with him if they know anything. There isn’t much to the man.” He shouted over his shoulder at a dark haired woman. “Natalia, give Lieutenant Keegan that file on Dr. Marks.”

  Jack took the file, but did not look inside. Instead, he found himself staring into the most amazing face he had ever seen. The woman’s hair was jet-black and fell long and luxurious on her shoulders. She was full-bodied, with more curves than one woman should own. Her skin was the color of a Mexican whose ancestry was more Aztec than Spanish; dark, rich and smooth. Her lips were full and looked so soft that Jack wanted to dive in and get lost. Her eyes matched her hair color. He wanted to look away, but was not able to. The woman looked back.

  Chestnut said, “There is a lot of crap in that file. We haven’t had time to sort it all out. We just jammed it together once we realized Harpo was gone. If you are going to take Steve with you, then you need to take Natalia with you too. She is my right hand man. She will interpret the file for you and act as a liaison between you and us. If we find anything more, I will call her and she can relay the info to you and Steve. Okay?”

  Jack smiled, not taking his eyes off the woman. “It will be my pleasure. I mean, sure…good idea.”

  Natalia smiled back and said, “I am Natalia Vera.”

  She spoke her name with the fluid musical tone of someone born to speak Spanish, but there was no trace of accent with the rest of her words. “For someone ‘not in charge’ you are collecting quite a staff, LT.” She pronounced it ‘el-tee’.

  Jack did not know what to say, so he looked at the police sergeant. “Let’s get this show on the road. If Harpo isn’t here, then we don’t have any reason to be here either. Let’s get some rubber on the road and see if we can help chase down Harpo. Coordinate a radio frequency with Natalia to keep our communication open. Then, check on your BOLO and see if anyone has spotted him.”

  *

  “I SPOTTED THE APE,” the man shouted on the phone.

  Mbotu grinned. Their police scanner told them the police were still searching for Marks and the ape.

  “He was driving the funny little car.” The man’s accent was thick, but Mbotu understood him clearly. “He just turned onto route 78. We are northwest of the city.”

  “Do you have him in sight?”

  “No, Mbotu. We do not. When I spotted him, we were heading in the other direction. We have turned around now and will catch up soon.”

  “Kill the man and the ape as soon as you can.”

  SEVEN

  CARL clenched his teeth. He had turned on the radio to catch the news, but the voices coming out of nowhere irritated Harpo. So, he channel hopped until he found some music Harpo liked.

  Harpo liked hip-hop. Carl hated hip-hop, but his favorite music seemed to irritate Harpo worse than the news. Carl imagined classic country and western music was an acquired taste, even among orangutans.

  “Where is that turnoff?” Carl asked aloud.

  Harpo did not respond. The countryside whizzing by seemed to mesmerize him or it might have been the music. Or, maybe he was going numb from a combination of both.

  Carl could swear his ears were going numb listening to some song about brass monkey’s balls…or something like that. He was not sure he was hearing the words right.

  “Dammit. I must be some kind of idiot. How can I remember the directions to Rooster’s place as the last left turn before Carbon Hill! The only way I can know for sure I have the correct turn off is to go to Carbon Hill and turn around, taking the first right. I must have been a junior in college the last time I drove out here by myself.”

  Like all of America, the roadside in central Alabama had changed in the last twenty years. There were fewer and fewer mom and pop diners. Nationwide fast food chains replaced them. Identical looking filling stations with attached convenience stores had replaced independent gas stations. Even roadside souvenir stands were gone; replaced by such similar malls with all the same stores that all the local landmarks were becoming extinct.

  Carl remembered turning left at a cattle corral and chute that had looked unused even when he was a youngster. He did not imagine it was still there. So, when something in his head said to turn left, he turned left.

  The country road was paved this close to Highway 78. It had been dirt for as long as he could remember, but he felt like he was on familiar ground. He began to recognize houses and farm buildings, most looked as if they had not changed in the last ninety years. The place Rooster inherited from Uncle Geezle was deep in the Alabama countryside.

  Carl began to feel more at home. This part of Alabama was a large part of the Marks’ family history. Uncle Geezle and Carl’s mother grew up on the farm. Carl had never lived on it, but he spent enough summers and college breaks over the years it was still a part of who he was. He caught himself as he hummed to some hip-hop tune on the radio. He spotted another familiar landmark and began to look for his next turn.

  Carl did not notice the white pickup turn off Highway 78 and follow him down the country road. It would not have set off any alarm bells even if he had noticed. Pickup trucks and country roads went together like Roy Rogers and Dale Evans or like rich men and trophy wives. It was hard to find one without the other.

  “There,” Carl said. He maneuvered his little car off the pavement and onto a dirt road. He was going slow, trying to conserve what little energy the car had left. It threw billows of dust behind him.

  “Weird, weird, weird,” Carl thought seeing the dust cloud behind him. “Last year we were having floods and rains everyday for months on end. This year we are having a record setting drought. Next year, we get what? Locusts?”

  The white pickup hung back a little farther. The two men inside were able to keep an eye on the Smart Car from a distance by the dust cloud.

  “We are almost there, Harpo.”

  The great ape did not even look up at the sound of his name. He pressed his nose against the window as he watched the trees and fields flow past. Carl wondered for the thousandth time what Harpo was thinking. A human might be nostalgic about other fondly remembered open spaces, wondering what was behind the farthest tree line, about whether this would be a good place to stop and pee, or even an escape plan to freedom. He supposed Harpo could think about any of those or nothing at all while just enjoying the view.

  Carl pointed to a tall hill, more for himself than for Harpo. “Rooster and I played up on that hill when we were kids. I know he is going to be happy to see me. You? Well, I am not so sure about that. Of course, if it has anything to do with defying the authorities then Rooster is going to be all for it.”

  David Donald Darren Marks started life with the nickname Triple-D, but as a two year old, he won a barnyard tussle against a mean chicken. He had been Rooster ever since. Strangely enough, no one had ever called him David, Dave, Donald, Don or Darren. He had never answered to Mister Marks in his life. His wife of twenty-two years, Daisy May (formerly Ramona Darlene Gustafson of Red Bay, Alabama) still called him Marks, but everyone from the Baptist preacher to the Walker County Sheriff called him Rooster.

  “We should be safe enough for a while at Rooster’s place. He is my mama’s oldest brother’s oldest son. You know, as complicated as the English language is, I wonder why we don’t have a specific name for that relationship. Anyway, I am sure I have never listed Uncle Geezle anywhere as a family contact or reference. Nor Rooster, for that matter, so no one should know about me spending summers here, except Mama and Daddy. Anyone looking for us who thought to check with my parents wouldn’t hear about Rooster’s place from Mama or Pops.”

  Rooster inherited his country place from his father, Geezle Marks, who inherited it from his father and so on back to the seventeenth century when the first Marks settled in Walker County. Family history said they came to Alabama from Georgia having run away from the British penal colony there. Carl was sure most of the Marks clan had not mellowed in their attitude towards authority since that
time.

  Carl looked at Harpo, the orangutan’s nose was glued to the glass. He checked his rearview mirror, although there was seldom more than an old farm truck or a tractor on these backwoods dirt roads, this far from the highway. He did not see the white pickup creep around the last curve.

  He slowed the Smart Car and turned up a long winding drive heading towards a mix of farmyard, junkyard and nursery. Carl did not see the white pickup stop behind a hedgerow along the gravel road. He slowed even further to avoid a pack of howling dogs that raced up to dash around the car.

  Carl watched Harpo’s head swivel as the ape stared at the dogs. The ape did not appear concerned, just curious about the loud animals. He waved at the dogs, but did not get any response. He stuck his tongue out at the dogs and did not get a response. He even gave the dogs a universal single digit salute, but the dogs continued to run circles around the car. They howled and bayed as if the moon had come to sit in the grass.

  Carl would have honked his horn, but the racket from the dogs was enough to wake Uncle Geezle out of his grave. He was sure everyone on the place knew there was someone in the driveway.

  A boy of about fourteen or fifteen poked his head out of a dilapidated barn. He shouted over his shoulder. Carl could not hear the boy over the racket. The boy hesitated for a second and nodded to someone out of sight. He was barefoot and wore tattered overalls. The boy stepped around what looked like a fresh cow pie and headed towards Carl and Harpo.

  Since Carl had not been to Rooster’s in a while, he was not positive about the identity of the boy, but he thought it looked like one of Rooster’s sons; the one they called Spitter.

  The boy ambled up to the car and watched the howling pack of dogs whirl about for a minute. He was trying to ignore Carl and Harpo in some semblance of teenage macho-ness. Carl could see the boy’s eyes jump to look at Harpo and then flit away. Spitter’s eyes grew larger every time he looked at Harpo until they were the size of small saucers and the boy gave up trying to look away.