“Even in the subzero weather, they’ll take the cow outside?”
“Strange it may seem, but yes.”
“The carcass will freeze. What do they do? Eat their fill and leave the rest to sit until spring?” I picture frozen carcasses lying all over the place, turning to bird and insect food come spring thaw.
“We were surprised. They drop the cow where they can get to it easily to feed until they are full. They leave it to freeze. The next time they are ready to feed, if we haven’t given them another live victim, they’ll get together and carry the carcass into the warmer area where they can consume it while it thaws.”
“I don’t get it. This isn’t the normal way of doing things. There is nowhere else in the world that they could have this kind of situation–a place in which there is both frigid and warm climates to choose from. They couldn’t have operated this way thirty thousand years ago.”
Aileen laughs. “We’ve done a lot of thinking on that. Overall we’ve found that these animals are very intelligent. They work together for the common good and adapt to their environment.”
“This is more than adapting. They’re understanding the concept of spoilage.”
“Unnerving, isn’t it?”
“What about summer? They have no way of keeping the meat fresh, or do you haul in a freezer they can just drop it into, and retrieve when they get hungry?”
“Funny. Last year we gave them smaller game; but still, being more mature I expect they’ll be able to consume a fair amount of meat, especially when we bring in the triplets. That will be in a month or so. We don’t know what to expect as yet–how the triplets will be accepted. We’re curious if they’ll work together as seven, or be two separate groups. These four pretty much grew up together. They had two different host mothers, Pasha and Ivana, who gave birth within a few weeks of each other.”
I watch through the binoculars as the cow disappears beyond some rocks and trees at the far end. The two sabre-toothed cats soon follow.
“The female is on her feet,” Aileen says. “It’s Nadia. She knows of the coming kill. She is hungry.”
I bring my binoculars around to where she was lying. She is now slowly working her way down out of the rocks. “She’s pregnant?”
“Yes. Amazing, isn’t it!”
“Amazing? I guess so, except that you have done this before!”
“If you’re thinking she is a host mother, think again. Sergei is her mate. She conceived naturally, right here in our garden. They have begun repopulating themselves. Our work in bringing back Smilodon is done.”
Another sabre-toothed cat appears just beyond where Nadia was lying. “That must be. . .”
“Duscha,” Aileen finishes for me as I cannot remember all the Russian names she threw out. “You might notice that she is expecting as well.”
She’s fatter than Nadia. “Who’s the father?”
“We’re fairly sure it’s Karlov.”
“So, if they each have two or three kittens, you could have a dozen or more sabre-toothed cats patrolling your grounds. How big is this area? I can’t imagine that it’s big enough to support this many huge animals, especially if they continue to reproduce.”
“We’ve just recently begun discussing that, just this week as a matter-of-fact, except we were interrupted by Thomas’ death. In the boardroom a little while ago, when you looked in, Henri, Jacob and I were in a previously scheduled meeting with representatives from the San Diego Zoo and the Arizona Wildlife Preserve. Since Victor and Lance could not be in attendance, we really couldn’t make very good progress.”
“Then they know what you’re doing here? Aren’t you afraid of it getting out?”
“At this point we only tell them enough to pique their interest. We swore them to secrecy and then showed them Simon and Tricia. They’re very excited. One indication of a leak and we pull them from consideration.”
“When are you planning on announcing them?”
“Late summer.”
“Late summer!” I drop my binoculars. “You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t have a book ready to go to press by that time.”
“Sure you can, if you and I work together on it. I basically have it all ready to go.”
I just look at her.
“I’ve been planning for this for a long time. That’s the reason for my being rather upset when Victor decided to go out of house for the writer. When I picked you I decided right then to let you work your ass off, not show you any of my material, maybe even sabotage you a little. I figured I’d be standing in the wings when you failed, ready to plop my manuscript in Victor’s lap.”
“What changed your mind?” I asked.
She shrugs. “You weren’t what I expected. I ended up liking you. Maybe it has to do with our psychic connections. I’m very curious about you and how you’re able to read people. At every turn you’ve had me figured out. Although it pissed me off . . .” She pauses for a few seconds, looks at me, looks away and then finishes her sentence. “. . . I found myself attracted to you.”
“Oh.”
“Still do; don’t know why. After Peter’s death I should be totally devastated, in deep depression.” She sighs. “In a way I am, but I’m able to pull myself out of it during the day. Nights are the hardest though. I’m not able to sleep.”
“Is that the reason you’ve wound up in my bed?”
“That and the fact that I’m attracted to you, both in a psychic and intellectual way.”
“Sexually, as well.” I immediately wish I didn’t say it.
She looks at me sideways with a half suppressed smile, blushes and looks away. “Not much more to see here now. The males will make their kill outside the garden and the four of them will be feeding for a while. We can go check out the triplets.”
“The cameras in here are pointed toward the cats’ areas,” Aileen says. “That I know of, there are no microphones. No point in having them since we can only whisper.”
We step through the doors and walk softly along the path, both of us conscious of every sound we make. I remember the last visit when one of them wound up on top of the cage looking down at us. I’m curious why they built this the way they did. Why didn’t they totally enclose it so it was sound proof to the animals’ ears? Why was the top open to the outside with just a thick-gage metal screen? Didn’t they figure the cats would find their way up there?
Aileen sees me looking up at the screen. She grabs my arm and pulls my ear to within an inch of her mouth. “I looked at the tapes from the other day.”
Her breath warms my neck. There is a light fragrance, not White Diamonds this time, but I like it very much . . . too much.
“The cameras are not at the correct angles to see how one of the cats got up on top of us. This is built just like at most zoos, where the cats are kept in their environment with step walls.”
I whisper into her ear, well aware of how close to her skin my lips are. “If they built the walls to keep them in, why the screen protection?” I have a nearly overwhelming urge to nibble on her ear. I think the only thing that stops me is that she shifts position to whisper back.
“Just in case. I’m glad they did.”
“Me too.” We walk up the rise that brings us to the overlook of the beach and lake. As we come within sight of the beach, I see one of the pigs. Forty feet away from him is a sabre-toothed cat. They are having a stare-down. The pig backs up a couple steps in his jerky pig way of moving. He stops and snorts. The cat is poised, motionless, head forward, eyes steady on his victim. His muscles are tense, but he doesn’t attack. Why? This pig is no challenge, frozen in place awaiting his death.
And then death comes. I, and the pig as well I’m sure, are both surprised when suddenly a different cat pounces from the rear. Like a calf roper picking up the calf and dropping him to the ground the cat takes the pig around the neck, drops him on his side and holds him down for his last few seconds of life. The struggle is small. Death is quick and efficient.
I notice that Aileen has turned away. I go to her and whisper, “Are you alright?”
She nods.
“Survival of the fittest; the law of nature.”
She nods again. “I’ve seen it dozens of times. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Where is the other pig?”
She grabs my arm and signals with her head to leave. Once outside of the garden and in a camera area again, she shifts to her museum tour guide voice. “What you just saw was a much orchestrated, very calculated kill. We’ve studied them for some time and now know exactly what they do. When they discovered the two pigs they somehow made an agreement. How they do this we don’t know; we just know that they do. First, they split the pigs up. They want to keep one alive until they’re ready for it, so one of the cats drives him to a far area of the garden. The other two drive the other to the beach where they proceed to execute their plan. That is what you just saw. One cat simply watches the pig, who you might have noticed, tries to stand his ground.”
“Why doesn’t he just turn and run into the bush?”
“We are not sure. Is it the nature of the pig not to turn his back or does the cat have some kind of hypnotic power. In any case the cat does not attack. He simply stares, keeps himself well visible and holds the pig’s attention. Meanwhile the second cat circles around and attacks from the rear.”
“Why do they go through all this? It’s not like they’re up against a huge threat to them.”
“They are young and this is training ground. They’re learning how to bring down the big animals. Being able to come from the rear while the victim’s attention is held is a great advantage. Imagine trying to take down a fifteen-hundred pound moose that can run faster than you, without the element of surprise? The sabre-toothed cat is not all that fast, but it’s very cunning.”
“Is that how the others will handle the cow?”
“Yes. One attacks from the rear while the other holds the cow’s attention.”
“Kind of like the Bengal Tiger, coming from the rear. Is that the nature of the sabre-toothed cat or is this a trait they’re getting from the host mother?”
“We don’t see any way they could be getting any traits from their Bengal mother. All the nucleus is stripped from the egg before the new DNA is injected. These have to be the natural traits of Smilodon.”
“I wonder if they don’t like human faces like the Bengal?” I say.
“I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to test it. I doubt it though.”
“So, what’s next?”
“That’s about it for right now. I understand Doctor Zitnik gave you his tour. My apologies for Mister Vandermill and Mister Evans not being available. I’m sure they’ll be back in a few days. Meanwhile, I’d recommend you begin working on assembling everything you’ve learned in the time you’ve been here.”
I consider my words for a few seconds. “I understand that you’ve made some progress already toward this book, before I arrived. Would you mind terribly if we could get together and discuss a collaboration of sorts? I see nothing but advantages in working together. Besides, the sooner I can finish up my assignment here, the sooner I can return to my family.”
“I’d be glad to take your offer under consideration, Mister Price. How about we meet and talk about it, say tomorrow morning in my office, about 9:00?”
“Thank you, Ms. Bravelli.” More than ever before I’m very conscious of the cameras and wonder if it’s obvious in my stilted, script-like voice.
We walk together into the Bengal garden. Only two days ago we walked through here and came upon Thomas and Duchess preparing for a little dinner. Suddenly Aileen stops and points. There is Duchess sunning herself in the rays passing through the glass roof. I whisper. “I’ve been in zoos that have had Bengal tigers and they have no problem with lots of human faces all day long. What’s the difference?”
Just before my tongue probes into her ear, she turns her head and says, “They’re a product of their environment. In a zoo they have no choice but to get used to it, or maybe the Bengals of Bangladesh are unique to that. Maybe not. We keep all the animals as natural as we can here. The reason for these huge glass domed buildings is to recreate their native habitat.” We start to move on, and then Aileen stops and looks back at the napping Bengal. “Something’s not right.”
“What?”
“We just gave her dinner. She should be feasting right now, not sleeping. She looks like she’s drugged, or dead.”
I look at the tiger a long time. I think I see breathing.
“Come on,” Aileen says and rushes down the path. When we get to the entrance to the Bengal area we find it open and security is there with his rifle, sleep dart loaded I hope.
“What are you doing?”
He jerks around in surprise, half raising his weapon on us. “We’re moving the tiger that killed Thomas Holm into isolation.”
I suddenly feel the compression in my chest that says something terrible is about to happen.
“Who decided this?” Aileen demands.
I look behind me. Nothing but open path. My chest is full of butterflies dancing the jig.
The security guy doesn’t seem to be phased by her. “Orders from Mister Vandermill. Phone call from India. I recommend you both leave the area . . . now.”
“What reason did he give?” she asks.
“We don’t ask for a reason, Ms. Bravelli. He gives an order, we carry it out.”
I lift my voice over their arguing. “Someone is about to die.”
They both look at me. Aileen recognizes my meaning immediately. Mister Security might be deciding it should be me.
I look at Aileen. “It’s coming on very fast. Ten minutes; maybe twenty.”
“I don’t feel it,” she says.
“That means it could be you as well as anyone else. I’m the only one safe.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Mister Security demands.
Aileen turns back to him. “Zach and I both have psychic feelings. Someone is going to die very shortly. What we don’t know is who.”
He laughs. “Get the hell out of here. Bruce will be here with the forklift in a minute and then we’ll go in and take her out. It’s simple as that. If you two stick around we can’t protect you. If anyone dies, it will likely be you.”
I hear the forklift coming down the path. “It’s getting worse.” I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been able to stop one. “We need to all get out of here!”
“No! You need to get out of here.” He pushes us toward the approaching machine with one hand, holding his gun up with the other. We go reluctantly.
“Go!” I yell at Aileen. “Get out of here.” The pulsing in my chest is so strong I begin to worry the death will be mine and that it’ll be from a heart attack.
She presses herself up against the wall until the forklift passes and then sprints for the exit. I pause and consider trying once again to convince security to leave. He gives me the look and I take off after Aileen. I catch her in the vestibule. She yells, “Come on,” and rushes out the door. Inside, we turn left and come to a door with a cipher lock. She punches in a code and we enter. The passageway runs for another fifty feet before turning left into a room full of TV monitors. We surprise a security guard reading a magazine.
“What the hell?” he comes to his feet and his weapon comes out of its holster.
“Watch your monitors!” Aileen yells. “Something’s about to happen in the Bengal garden.”
He holds his weapon at ready. “Both of you, stop right there,” he orders.
Aileen slides to a stop and I pile into her. We back up. Aileen pulls her voice under control. “Dirk. I’m not fooling around here. Put that thing away and get your eyes on the Bengals. Bruce and Lester are in trouble. We tried to warn them, but Lester wouldn’t listen.”
Dirk lowers his weapon a few inches. I only worry about my kneecaps now. He glances up at one of the monitors. I follow his eye and see a wide vi
ew of the area where Duchess is still lying on her side. The forklift is in sight at the edge of the screen. It’s carrying a platform on its tines.
“They’re taking Duchess out. What are you worried about? She’s fast asleep.”
“Yes, but the others aren’t.”
“They’re busy chewing on the pig,” he says. He presses a button and an image of one Bengal feeding on a pig replaces the one of Duchess. He does something else and the four other monitors go dark.
“That’s Pasha,” Aileen says. “Where is Ivana?”
“How the hell can you tell them apart?” He punches the button several more times, cycling through several cameras. He stops at the forklift pulling up close to Duchess. “No idea.” He pulls a radio out of a holster on his belt. “Lester,” he says into it.
A garbled voice comes back.
“I can’t account for Ivana. She’s not eating. Ms. Bravelli is here saying you guys are in trouble, or some such thing.”
“We’re fine. The only trouble is her and that writer guy. And if he’s in there with you, you had better do something.”
“Already did.”
“We’ll be out of here in two minutes.”
The forklift driver sets the platform down next to the sleeping tiger. He then pushes the tines under the tiger and lifts her onto the platform. The pressure in my chest has eased considerably, but now I’m light-headed. “I have to sit down.” What I describe as fluttering butterflies is going nuts between my stomach and my throat. I drop onto a chair and look back at the monitor. The driver is backing away. He drops the tines, slips them through the slots in the platform and lifts it and the cat.
“Mission accomplished,” Lester says.
“No it’s not.” I hope to hell I’m wrong for once.
“Holy shit!” Lester’s words pierce security central. “Another one is between us and the exit.”
“What?” Dirk yells into his radio.
Lester’s voice lifts to the first level of panic. “I said another tiger is blocking us from leaving.”
“Put her down.” Dirk orders.
“I am. Not taking any chances.”
On the monitor we cannot see Ivana, only Lester raising his gun. Then we hear, “Okay. I’ve got her. It’ll take a few seconds for her to go completely out. But we’re cool now.”
Sabre-Toothed Cat Trilogy Page 16