Wolf Logic

by Masha du Toit

  He reached for the swiff and took it deftly from her. Gia saw that the creature accepted his grasp without any sign of fear. It folded its wings and twisted its head to look up at its captor with that same wide-eyed look.

  “Nice,” said the doctor. “A male, you see the claspers here on the abdomen? And it has all its legs, which is unusual. But look here.” He held the creature so that the lower legs were visible. “You see that?”

  Gia pulled her goggles up onto her forehead, so that she could see better. One of the creature’s legs had an irregular, thickened area partway down. A piece of string was bound around it and the leg had grown distorted, a scar raised thickly around the wound.

  “What a pity,” said the doctor. “Somebody tried to catch it, or had it tied up and it escaped. People—especially vagrants, bergies, they try to catch swiffs. They sell them, or dry them for talismans.” He took a blade from his pocket and gently picked at the string until a part of it came loose. The swiff remained quite still, its tiny hands folded around the doctor’s thumb. After a few second’s effort the doctor pulled the rest of the string away and examined the leg. He clicked his tongue. “Nope. No can do. The scarring is too severe.”

  “But won’t it heal, now that the string is gone?” asked Gia.

  “Probably,” said the doctor. “But it will always have that unsightly scarring. We can’t display the thing like this. No, this one is a gonner. Open the jar for me.”

  Gia wanted to argue, but knew it was useless. Instead she picked up the killing jar and unscrewed the lid. A sweet scent rose from it, the same baked pudding scent she’d noticed before, that was so at odds with their sterile surroundings. “What’s that smell?” she asked, forcing herself to look as the doctor lowered the creature into the jar. He drew his hand out and she put the lid back on before the swiff could escape.

  “The cotton in the jar is soaked in oil of cloves,” he said. “Not the most efficient way to kill the little buggers, but they don’t stress out or damage themselves, this way. You see? It just falls asleep. Clove oil is a strong anaesthetic.”

  It was true. The swiff settled at the bottom of the jar, perfectly calm, its wings closed, showing no sign of distress.

  “After a few minutes you’ll see that it will have stopped breathing. The spiracles will stop moving. Leave it in a bit longer and then take it out and lay it on the blotting paper over there, on that table, ready for dissection.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  To Gia’s relief, the doctor moved away, already speaking to another cadet. She looked down at the jar. The little creature, moments ago so vibrant and alive, was already fading, its sparkling eyes now dull as frosted beads.

  -oOo-

  When all the creatures had been sorted, the cadets set to work cleaning and sorting laboratory equipment. Some of the cadets were sent back to the zoo display to pick up the litter left by the latest school group. With a little bit of manoeuvring, Gia got a job in Doctor Scubbe’s workroom where a pile of glass beakers had to be washed, rinsed and set out to dry. This was dull work, but Gia was grateful to be away from the sweet scent of the killing jars and she hoped she might see or hear something useful in the doctor’s room.

  The doctor was in his office, a small room just off the workroom and although his door was open, he did not pay her any attention. Every now and then somebody entered the workroom, usually a cadet or a constable with a message for him.

  Once, there was a shrill whistling and Gia was startled to see the metal door she’d wondered about the first time she’d visited the doctor’s workroom, swing open. A woman emerged, pushing a trolley that held trays piled high with plates and cups. From her uniform, Gia guessed that she was one of the nurses from the Annex. The door closed behind her, stopping the whistling alarm, but not before Gia had a glimpse of a well-lit corridor with several doors leading off it.

  So they are keeping somebody in there. Somebody who gets fed, from the look of those trays.

  The woman gave Gia a friendly smile and went to the kitchen alcove at the opposite side of the workroom. She heard the clatter as the woman emptied the trays, and then the rush of water in the basin.

  “Want me to wash those for you?” asked Gia on a sudden impulse.

  “Oh. Would you, my dear?” said the nurse. “I’m running a bit late. It would be such a help. You sure?”

  “No problem,” said Gia. “I’m on roll here, I might as well wash those as well.”

  “Well, that’s very nice of you, I must say. Just be sure to rinse your hands thoroughly first. Don’t want to get any nasty chemicals on the children’s plates and things.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Gia. “I’ll be careful.” Children’s plates. So there were children behind that door? Maybe she was onto something after all. She dried the last beaker and placed it carefully on the rack.

  The washing up was disappointingly normal. There were the standard white plates and cups Gia knew from the refectory. Five of each though, and that in itself was interesting. As she filled the basin with hot water, another person entered the workroom and Gia glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Cadet Lee. But this was somebody she’d not met before. A young black man, dressed not in the grey Special Branch uniform that Gia had become so used to seeing, but in civilian clothing—a sharply tailored leather jacket, faded jeans and shiny black boots. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses and there were lines shaved into the sides of his head like racing stripes on a car.

  Fatima would like that outfit. Especially the jacket. How strange it was, she’d hardly thought of Fatima since she’d come to Valkenberg. Or of her friends Sonella and Ben. They seemed to be part of another world, one she’d inhabited in a different lifetime.

  “Hey, Mandla!” the doctor called from inside his office. “Back already?”

  The man laughed and twitched up the collar of his jacket, striking a pose. “Special Agent Mandla’s old news now. I’m Mr Mandible these days, remember? I’ve got good news. That little gang I told you about? I got them eating out of my hand. Money talks, ek sê! They were only too happy to sell me their stuff, but I need something more to give them, to reel them all the way in. Maybe some spore guns—”

  The office door closed behind him, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Gia stared at the door. She must have heard wrong. Spore guns were dangerous magical tech. One of the banned weapons the Belle Gente were notorious for using. Why would a Special Branch agent have anything to do with spore guns? She put down the cup she was rinsing and looked at the office door. If she could move a little closer, maybe she’d be able to hear—

  “Cadet Grobbelaar, you finished in here?” Cadet Lee had appeared at the entrance to the workroom.

  “Uh, not quite, ma’am.”

  “Oh,” said Lee, coming closer. “I see Nurse Richards has got you doing her dirty work for her.”

  Gia decided to push her luck. “There are children, in there?” She tilted her head towards the metal door. To her relief, this did not seem to be a sensitive subject as Lee answered her readily enough. “That’s right. That’s the shielded area of the Children’s Unit. The changelings, you know.”

  “Oh?” said Gia, her heart speeding a little with excitement. Was she finally going to find out something about Nico? “They live in there?”

  “Only some of them,” said Lee. “The ones that need to be contained. Strong psychic abilities, that kind of thing. The walls and doors are all lined with lead and silver so that limits what they can do.”

  “So there are other children? Elsewhere?” Gia squirted a bit more soap into the water and plunged another cup into the soapy water.

  “Of course,” said Lee. “We only keep those five here. Strong talents are very rare.”

  “And Doctor Scubbe works with them? I thought...” Gia frowned. “I thought the Children’s Unit was Captain Witbooi’s project. Isn’t the doctor all about using technology rather than magic?”

  “Very good, Grobbelaar,”
Lee said with a smile. “You’ve caught on to the big divide here at Valkenberg. No, the doctor is not directly involved with the Children’s Unit. It’s the captain’s project, as you’ve guessed. He believes that it’s possible to redirect magical ability to do good.” Her face became serious. “Both of them investigate magical phenomena, but they have a different approach. Captain Witbooi has faith in the human ability to better itself. The doctor studies magic to learn how to fight it, but he prefers the more technological solutions. To him, magic is fundamentally unreliable.”

  “And which side are you on?” Gia regretted her words as soon as she’d said them. Lee looked at her for a moment, but quietly. “Well, I guess I’m with the captain,” she said. “That’s sort of a given, isn’t it.” She looked down at her hands, covered, as always, in thin, white gloves.

  She’s a telepath, you numskull. Of course she’s on the captain’s side of things. But before Gia could apologise, the door to the doctor’s office opened and the two men came out. Mandla was zipping up a canvas bag Gia was sure he’d not had with him before. “Just make sure they don’t go and blow themselves up with it,” said the doctor. “Or at least, not before the time.”

  Both men laughed at this.

  “No,” said Mandla. “I’ll show them how to use the stuff, don’t worry. Tell the Bulldozer he can relax.”

  “Report back as soon as you have anything more.”

  “Sharp-sharp!” said Mandla. He gave Lee and Gia a nod and headed out the door where he nearly collided with Cadet Mantjies. “Sorry, bru!” he said and was gone.

  “Is it time already, Mantjies?” said the doctor. “I thought we were doing this at two.”

  Mantjies put down the box he was carrying. “Sergeant Kemp says she needs to start a bit earlier, sir. It’s Saturday, so the subject is starting the change to human this afternoon and she doesn’t want to rush it.”

  Gia rinsed the last cup and put it on the drying rack as quietly as she could. Her morning shift was over and she should be heading towards the refectory for her lunch, but she hoped she could stay a little longer. It was clear that something interesting was about to happen.

  The doctor pushed out his jaw. “Kemp didn’t know this before? Bloody power games, is what it is. Everything else ready?”

  “Yes, sir.” Mantjies nodded at the box. “I’ve got it all here, but we’re one guy short now. Robertson is still on patrol. He won’t be back ’til half past one.”

  “We can get somebody else, can’t we? All he had to do was help with the straps and that.” The doctor’s gaze fell on Gia, who was standing as quietly as she could by the basin. “You there. You’re the philosophical one, aren’t you? Grové.”

  “Grobbelaar, sir,” said Gia.

  Everybody was looking at her now.

  “Grobbelaar it is. We need an extra pair of hands, so you can hang around.” Before Gia could so much as nod, he’d turned back to Mantjies and started looking through the contents of the box. “Good, good. You guys go set up at the chair. I’ll get the clipboards and stuff.”

  Mantjies picked up the box. “Grobbelaar, could you get that door for me?”

  Gia moved to obey. The door was the one to the small tiled room that held the ominous padded chair with its many wide black straps. The chair took up most of the room and she had to step back behind so that Mantjies and Lee could get inside. Her mind was still running on the man's words. Tell the Bulldozer he can relax. That could only mean Luxulo Langa, the president’s son. UBhuldhoza was Luxulo’s nickname. Wasn’t he some high-ranking officer in Special Branch now? So the doctor was involved in running some scheme for Luxulo Langa. Something that involved spore guns and explosives?

  This was more like it. The kind of thing a real spy would find out about. Information the Belle Gente would value. Gia pictured how Sash would react, if she could tell her about something real, rather than werewolf feeding schedules.

  I’ll have to keep my eyes and ears open and maybe I’ll learn something worth knowing.

  -oOo-

  “Grobbelaar, can you come here a minute?” Mantjies was unpacking things from the box onto a narrow counter, arranging them into rows. “Look, you don’t know what any of this is about, do you?”

  Gia shook her head.

  “No time to explain now. You just do what you’re told and you’ll be fine, okay? Now. See these canisters here?” He pointed at a row of flat black cylinders. “See the numbers on them?” He tilted a canister and Gia saw that each had a sticker with a number written on it. “When I call out a number, you hand that canister to me, and keep them in this order, okay?”

  Something bumped Gia on the arm.

  “Sorry,” said Lee. She’d been tilting the chair, lowering the backrest so that it lay at a steeper angle. “It’s going to be pretty crowded in here in a minute,” Lee said to Mantjies.

  “Can’t be helped.”

  The doctor appeared in the door. “They’re here,” he said. “You ready, Mantjies?”

  “Yes, sir.” He reached for the switch and the lights came on, glaring on the white-tiled walls. Footsteps sounded outside, then Kemp was there with a brisk “Morning, Doctor. You ready for us? Can we bring her in?”

  “Morning Kemp,” said Doctor Scubbe. “Everything’s ready. Go ahead.”

  Kemp stepped back from the door and Controller Pienaar appeared, leading a werewolf. As the creature came to a halt just inside the door, Gia drew back as far as she could, flattening herself against the wall. The last time she’d been this close to a werewolf was when the sniffer unit had searched her home. She remembered the stench of the creature and the drugged roll of its unbearably human eyes.

  Not the same werewolf, of course. This was the rose-tattooed female, what was her name? Lizzie.

  There was something different about her now. Her stance was poised, no longer the drugged slouch the Gia had seen before. Her jaws were bound by a leather muzzle and her hands were shackled in front of her, but her eyes were perfectly lucid as she looked about the room, ears pricked. For a moment her gaze caught and held Gia’s, then she moved on.

  “Okay, let’s get her in the chair,” said Kemp. “Move back there, please.”

  Gia backed herself further against the wall as Kemp and Pienaar, with a few practised moves, manoeuvred the werewolf onto the chair.

  “You get her hands, Pienaar,” said Kemp. “Good.” Restraints snapped into place and Lizzie was lying in the chair, hands and feet secured. Gia was near enough to hear her shallow breathing and to smell her musky scent. Her large ears were drawn back now and Gia could see the white of her eyes. A soft growl rolled from inside the muzzle.

  “None of that, my girl,” said Kemp and placed a hand on Lizzie’s forehead. The growl trailed into silence.

  “Sergeant!” A woman stood at the door. A controller, but one Gia had not seen before. She was out of breath and had clearly been running. “We’ve got a situation. Fighting in the daylight row. Can you come?”

  “Fighting?”

  “Sammy managed to wedge open that new barrier and he’s gone for Connor. None of us can stop it.”

  Kemp was already edging around the chair toward the door. “Got to go,” she threw at the doctor. “Pienaar can manage here. Any weapons involved?”

  “Don’t know,” said the woman and then both of them were gone, their running footsteps fading. There was a moment’s silence, the only sound the werewolf’s panting breath.

  “Well,” said the doctor. He raised an eyebrow at Controller Pienaar. “Think you can handle things by yourself?”

  “No problem,” said Pienaar.

  Lizzie was growling again and now she shifted in her restraints, jerking her hands up so that the straps snapped tight.

  “Easy now, girl,” said Pienaar, but his voice lacked Kemp’s quiet confidence and the werewolf did not seem to hear him. She rolled her head from side to side, bearing forward with her shoulders.

  “Shouldn’t you be fastening the head restrai
nts too?” said Cadet Lee.

  “Right,” said Pienaar under his breath and reached for the straps. Lizzie winced away from him then threw herself against the restraints as hard as she could.

  Gia felt the entire chair jolt and jerk as the werewolf struggled.

  “I’ll hold her down. You get the straps,” barked Pienaar to Mantjies. He grabbed the muzzle on either sides of the werewolf’s jaws and forced Lizzie against the backrest while Mantjies reached for the straps. There were a few moments of hard breathing. The werewolf’s snarls grew in strength and menace.

  Gia wished she was anywhere else. What if the thing got loose? Then she heard the snap of buckles closing and the werewolf was lying back, bands over her forehead, neck and chest. Mantjies pushed padded blocks into place on either side of her head. “Grobbelaar, hand me the mask, over there.”

  He pointed at an elongated rubber mask that had a long, corrugated hose attached to its nosepiece. Gia lifted it a little awkwardly and gave it to Mantjies. He fitted the mask on the werewolf’s face, not without a struggle. It took the combined efforts of Pienaar and Mantjies and they were both out of breath by the time the mask was strapped into place.

  Now the werewolf’s face was almost completely hidden. All that was visible, above the mask, were her staring eyes. Her chest was heaving and the mask’s valves popped and hissed as her breath whistled through them.

  “Couldn’t we sedate her?” said Pienaar, breathing hard.

  “No good. Will skew the results,” said Mantjies. “That’s why we asked you to bring her undrugged in the first place.”

  “Well, bugger that,” said Pienaar, wiping his hand over his forehead. “Lizzie’s usually a lady, but she’s not used to all this arsing around.”

  “Is everything ready now, controller?” asked Doctor Scubbe, who’d been quietly observing from a far corner.