Wolf Logic

by Masha du Toit

  All it would take was practice, and he had plenty of time.

  Chemistry

  The next morning, Gia was late to the trucks. Her shoes, that she clearly remembered putting under her bed, were gone. The other cadets were strangely unhelpful. They seemed reluctant to speak to her or meet her eyes. She found the shoes at last, one on top of the lockers, the other wedged into a toilet, soaked. By the time she reached the parking lot, the trucks were there and Sergeant Landman was furious with her lateness.

  None of the girls spoke to her, although the male recruits were still friendly and chatty as ever. At breakfast, somebody tripped her as she carried her tray of food, though she recovered her footing. Jooste, sitting at the seniors’ table, snorted with laughter. Then she picked up her coffee and Gia saw, with a sinking heart, that she was coming over to their table.

  “So, Grobbelaar,” she said, sliding into the seat next to Gia. “Out again last night.” She kept her voice down, but Gia was sure all the cadets at her table were listening in. “Funny thing, that, how you’re always away just when we’re planning a little late-night entertainment. Been twice now that you’ve escaped the doop.”

  So there had been another initiation session last night and she’d missed it?

  Jooste took a sip of coffee. “See, you seem to be under the impression that you can get away with it. But what you don’t understand, Grobbelaar, is that there’s no place for papbroeke here with us. And I bet your friends are getting very tired of being made to take your punishment for you.”

  So far, Gia had been staring down at her porridge, but now she looked up at Jooste, frowning.

  “Yes,” said Jooste. “You should ask the others what we made them do last night. They’re not very happy with you, and I can’t say I blame them.”

  So that explains the silent treatment. Gia sprinkled some sugar over her porridge. No point in letting Jooste get a reaction from her. The older girl was still staring at her, sitting just a little bit too close.

  Gia took a mouthful of porridge and promptly spat it out. “Aah,” she gasped, wiping her mouth, Jooste’s mocking laughter ringing in her ears.

  Somebody had switched the sugar for salt and her porridge was inedible.

  -oOo-

  Things were better once she got to the wolf cages. There was not much need to speak and everybody was kept too busy to try any more pranks.

  Lizzie’s cage was empty that morning.

  “She’s been moved to the midnight row,” one of the controllers told her. “She’s pretty deep under this morning. We’ll be cleaning in there later on.” Most of the morning was taken up with food preparation. The work was repetitive and did not offer much distraction, so Gia found herself worrying at the same insoluble problems over and over again.

  Where was Nico and what could she do about him? Up to now, she’d tried to comfort herself with the thought that Granny or the caretaker were sure to find him. And, for a while, she’d even considered the possibility that he might be with her mother. But none of these thoughts convinced her any longer. She had to face facts: she’d been ducking her responsibilities, waiting for other people to solve her problems for her, when she was the one in the prime position to find out what might have happened to Nico. Searching for his name on the database was something, but so far that had not proved very useful.

  She had to get behind that metal door in the doctor’s workroom. The nurse had said there were children in there. What if Nico were one of them?

  The conversation she’d overheard, between Doctor Scubbe and the man in the leather jacket, also bothered her. Something about it made her uneasy—the way they’d casually spoken about spore guns and explosives, and he’d mentioned Luxulo Langa too. Everything she’d heard about that man had made her skin crawl. She remembered speaking to Kavitha Pillay, Langa’s bride, and the warning the girl had given her about not getting on Langa’s bad side.

  How were her father and Mandy getting on with making Kavitha’s wedding gown? They must be finished by now, or nearly so. She felt a stab of regret that she’d be missing that. She’d have liked to see the dress when it was finished.

  At last somebody switched on the radio. It was soothing to let the DJ’s cheerful rambling wash over her without really listening to it.

  Then a name caught her ear.

  …Luxulo Langa, the president’s son, has announced that he will be participating in the ceremonies leading up to the welcome of the Mere Delegation. Mr Langa, along with his bride-to-be, the lovely Kavitha, will appear on the stage at the Parade in central Cape Town as part of the festivities that will take place there. The couple will then drive through the streets of central Cape Town all the way to the Waterfront, where they will meet the Selkie and Mere delegates at a specially constructed stage to sign the documents that will reaffirm the various land-sea agreements.

  This is in contrast to past years, when the ambassadors of the sea’s peoples were installed on Robben Island and the human representatives took a boat trip to the final ceremony there.

  According to a government spokesman, this change was requested by the Selkies and Meres themselves. President Langa confirmed this, saying that “this meeting is about more than ratifying fishing quotas, or the safe passage of our shipping. This is an opportunity to reaffirm the long-standing relationship between the peoples of the land and those of the sea. The delegates have proven their faith in us by agreeing to come, as it were, into our territory. It is an act of trust and that in itself is a rare thing in these uneasy times.”

  “Hmm,” said Pienaar, driving his knife deep into a cutting block. “Again, nothing about the hauntings. I’d have thought they would say something after that mess in Maynardville.”

  Another controller wiped her face on her sleeve and shrugged. “You know they don’t want to draw attention to that stuff so close to the referendum, Pienaar,” she said. “People are already jumpy enough as it is. Rather keep them focused on the happy stuff, like Langa’s wedding.”

  “Yes, I can’t wait,” said Cadet Motsepe. “Only a week to go to the wedding! Although I don’t suppose we’ll see much of it. But I didn’t know there’s been more hauntings. What happened at Maynardville?”

  Pienaar scraped the pile of chopped meat into a bucket. “They were having a music festival there. Lots of trendy people, you know the deal. Anyway, they had this big setup on the stage there, with lights up into the trees and everything. We were there because we’d had a tip-off that there would be a lot of magicals and that was true.”

  “That’s because Tonnelkop were playing,” said the other controller. “They’ve got quite a following among the crooks. You should have seen it. A real freak show. I swear, I’ve never seen so many of them in one place. Vrekkers, trolls, I swear I even saw a moldyman. Smelt like one, anyway.”

  “So there we were, like a bunch of poephols at the party,” said Pienaar. “And then the lights started to go all funny.”

  Gia felt a touch of excitement. I thought so. It’s what we saw at the Playground. When the lights and music went so strange.

  “Everyone started, I don’t know. Sort of chanting? But I don’t know what they were saying. And it didn’t sound like—” Pienaar had stopped working and was frowning down at his cutting board. “It didn’t sound like a crowd. It was one voice, but speaking through all of them.”

  The other controller laughed and clapped him on the back. “Aw, rubbish, man,” she said. “I was there too, remember? It was just a bunch of guilter crap. There were plenty of them around too, jeez, what a mess.”

  Pienaar shrugged. “There always are guilters around when a haunting happens. In fact, I think that’s where they come from. Some people just don’t wake up from it, you know.”

  “Whatever,” said the controller. “Not our job to worry about that mess.”

  “Just to clean it up,” said Pienaar. “I know.”

  -oOo-

  After lunch Gia’s group were back in the Zoo. There had been mo
re than the usual number of school groups there that morning and the space had to be ready for the afternoon’s visitors. Cadet Lee kept them busy picking blobs of gum off the tiles and polishing fingerprints from the glass displays. Gia caught her eye a few times, but she could not detect any difference in the cadet’s attitude towards her. She was no colder than before, but no friendlier either. It was as if the previous evening had never happened.

  As she worked, Gia’s thoughts kept drifting back to Lizzie. To her disappointment, she’d not caught even a glimpse of her that morning. In the midnight row. And by Monday, if she’d understood things correctly, the werewolf would be in her human form. What would she look like then? Would she remember what had happened to her, in her previous state?

  One of the other cadets gave Gia a bucket to empty. Passing the metal door, she couldn’t help slowing down, but it looked no different from before and she could hear nothing either. What’s behind that door? Children, that nurse had said. Was it possible that Nico could be in there, so close—

  “Grobbelaar!”

  She’d not noticed Mantjies standing at one of the tables. Gia’s breath caught a little at the sight of him and she wondered if he’d seen her staring at the door.

  “Can you help me a minute?”

  “Sure,” said Gia. “Just let me get rid of this.” She emptied the bucket in the drain outside the back door and went to join Mantjies, who was tidying the rows of vials and canisters from the gas experiments. He handed her a sheet of paper. “Got to double check some stuff and it’s easier if I don’t have to do the checking as well as the writing. Each of these vials has a bunch of numbers on it, right? Those stand for specific percentages of certain substances. Like...eighteen, for example...” He pointed to the number on the page. “Eighteen stands for ‘ten percent limonene’, right? We do it this way because there’s not space on the vial to write out the whole thing. But now I need to make a list of the mixtures we used. So I’m going to read off some numbers from these vials and canisters and you tell me what the corresponding percentage and substance is on that list. Understand?”

  “Right,” said Gia, a little uncertainly. Many of the words on the list were strange and some were very long. But Mantjies had already started. He picked up a vial and read out the numbers scribbled on its label: “Fifty-two, fifteen and eighteen.”

  Gia ran her finger down the list. “Um. Three Quinu—” The word had far too many syllables. She tried again, breaking it into parts. “Eighty percent three quin-nu-cli-di-nyl benzilate. Quinuclidinyl benzilate.” She looked up at Mantjies. “Wow. What’s that?”

  “Synthesised version of a substance found in the belladonna plant. Deadly nightshade, you know? And the other two?”

  “Oh! Sorry,” Gia felt the hot blood in her cheeks as she blushed. “I can’t remember the numbers. Could you read them again?”

  “Fifteen and eighteen,” said Mantjies patiently.

  “Okay,” said Gia, scanning the list. “That’s—ten percent alpha-pinene and ten percent limonene.”

  “Right,” muttered Mantjies as he copied the words down on a new, clean sheet of paper. “Vial number...percentage...limonene. Alpha-pinene, in case you were wondering, is a substance found in rosemary and limonene is from citrus fruit.” He reached for another vial. “Next one. Fifty-three, fifteen and eighteen.”

  This was a little easier. Gia read it out with more confidence. “Eighty percent atropine. Ten percent alpha-pinene and ten percent limonene.”

  “Ten percent...limonene. Check,” said Mantjies.

  So they went on, with Mantjies reading numbers first from the vials, then from the gas mask canisters. Gia stumbled a few times, but she soon became familiar with most of the substances. Occasionally Mantjies stopped to explain what the names meant. Some were hallucinogens, like fentanyl and mescaline. Some were derived from plants, like eucalyptol or myrcene. Some were formulae, such as AgNO3, which, Mantjies said, was the scientific name for silver salt. At one point Cadet Lee looked in.

  “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing Grobbelaar here,” said Mantjies and Lee shook her head.

  “No problem,” she said. “Only got a few minutes left though and then you’re due in data capture, cadet.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Gia and Lee withdrew again.

  “Only one more,” said Mantjies. “You won’t be late. And then you can take this notebook with you to be entered into the system. Okay, here we’ve got—” He peered at the label on the canister. “Twenty, four and five.”

  “Sixty percent activated carbon, thirty percent purigen, ten percent AgNO3,” said Gia. She watched as he scribbled in his notebook. “These are the same ones you tested on Lizzie, right?”

  Mantjies nodded, still writing. “Yes. We used these exact ones.”

  “Are you going to continue testing? Or have you found out what you needed?”

  “Oh, no we’ve only started,” said Mantjies. “We still need to do tests on a were in its human phase...although there’s already a definite pattern emerging.” Seeing the question on Gia’s face, he continued. “See, we’re looking for a gas that’s most effective when we use the dummy canister here.” He tapped one of the canisters. “Which lets everything through, but is completely neutralised by the real canisters, the ones that contain the activated carbon or the lunar caustic.

  “We’ve found several gases that are really effective, create severe hallucination and disorientation, but only one that’s effectively neutralised by a canister. I’ve noted it all here, see?” he showed her a page from his notebook. “It’s just a shorthand. The doctor’s notes have all the details Lee experienced. But I think we’ve got a good idea where to go to from here, which gas combinations we can forget about and which canisters are effective.”

  He gave her the notebook. “Now, you need to get going if you don’t want to be late for data capture. But take this with you. Tell Naudé it’s to be entered into Doctor Scubbe’s account. He’ll tell you how to call it up.”

  As she left, Gia once again slowed in front of the metal door. She toyed with the idea of asking Mantjies about it, but something warned her not to seem too interested in what was behind that door.

  -oOo-

  Warrant Officer Naudé frowned down at the notebook, lips pinched. “This is quite a lot of information. It will take you most of the session to enter this. Your group are working through these today.” He placed a hand on a pile of files. “And I seem to remember from your records, Grobbelaar, that you are already behind on your quota.”

  Gia said nothing. The other cadets were already seated at their computers and watching with interest.

  “This is for Doctor Scubbe, you say?” Naudé handed the notebook back to her.

  “Yes, sir.” She hesitated, reluctant to push her luck. “If you allow it, sir,” she said, “I’ll come after hours to catch up on the other work.”

  Naudé hunched his narrow shoulders and for a moment she imagined him as an old, skinny, bird that had pulled out most of its own feathers in spite and irritation, but her words seemed to have mollified him.

  “Very well,” he said. “I’ll leave instructions to the duty technician on what you’re supposed to do.”

  Gia got to work copying the data from the notebook. Typing in the list of percentages and substances was fiddly work. She had to check and double check that she was entering the correct information with the corresponding vial- or cartridge-number and the long words slowed her down.

  3-Quinuclidinyl benzilate.

  Mantjies had said that was a synthetic version of belladonna. Nasty stuff. Mantjies’s notes described, in the driest of terms, Lizzie’s reactions to each mixture and how effective the gas canister had been.

  2-Chlorobenzalmalononitrile.

  Gia frowned. According to Mantjies, this was an ingredient of teargas. And the notes fitted with what he’d said about magicals’ reactions to that substance. It had been one of the last gases tested and Lizzie had raged and bubbled und
er her gas mask.

  Why was Special Branch testing the effect of teargas on magicals, when it was widely known to drive them mad? Mantjies had said that they were looking for substances that would disperse a crowd without escalating the situation, but the mixtures she saw listed here and the effects she’d seen Lizzie exhibit did not bear that out.

  But what was she supposed to do about it? She could try to find out more, she supposed, although she was not sure how. She couldn’t keep the notebook to show it to anybody else. It was to be handed to Naudé at the end of the session. And she dare not copy any of the words out to keep them—it was too dangerous. How would she explain it, if such a document were found in her keeping? She doubted she could memorise any of it. Some of them were easy, but many of them were just too long and unfamiliar. And most probably, it was not just the substances themselves that were significant but the way they were combined.

  She could think of only one way to get the information out of Valkenberg. Before she could have second thoughts, she called up the input box of the parasite program and copied everything into it. She doubted that the Belle Gente would be able to make anything of this long list of chemicals and symptoms, but maybe she would have a chance, somehow, to ask Brakman to have a look at that message, show it to somebody who knew more about these things.

  She hit the “send” button and reverted her screen to normal before she could have any second thoughts.

  Done. Too late now to take it back.

  Gia stared at the screen, wondering if she’d regret what she’d just done. But I had to do something.

  She opened the file of data Naudé had given her to work through, but it took her a moment before she could focus on the lines of text.

  There had been something different about sending that message. Before, when she’d sent the list of names and code numbers of what Sash had called the watch and kill lists, she’d felt a sense of achievement, a moment of pride in her ability to get information out of the system under the very nose of Special Branch. Now, she felt as though she’d done something shameful.