by Roland Smith
Ted looked at him and grinned. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“Funny,” Marty said.
Grace and Butch stepped outside of the panda exhibit into the public area.
“Beautiful day,” Grace said cheerfully. “But there aren’t many people here.”
“Squid,” Butch grunted.
“Oh, that’s right,” Grace said, as if she had forgotten. “We have the park almost all to ourselves.”
Noah’s animal park was like the biblical Ark, but thousands of cubits bigger. All of his parks were of the same design. What visitors didn’t know was that they were only seeing about ten percent of what was actually there.
The tip of the iceberg, Grace thought. Or the deck of the ship. The most interesting things are below, invisible to the public. She looked up at her grandfather’s mansion. It sat atop a small hill, overlooking the park like a ship’s bridge overlooking a deck.
“What do you want to do now?” Butch asked without enthusiasm.
Grace hid her grin. She had taken a page out of Luther’s book by driving her reluctant babysitter crazy with polite, but very annoying, chatter and requests. She knew Butch was now long past wishing she had stayed aboard the Coelacanth.
“Let’s go see the hatchlings!” Grace said.
“Again? We were just there a couple of hours ago.”
“I know, but they change so quickly. It’s like seeing new babies every time we visit them.”
This was an exaggeration, but the hatchlings had grown a lot since they’d arrived at the Ark.
“Maybe we should go to the lunchroom and chill for a couple of hours instead,” Butch muttered.
“You go ahead,” Grace said, reaching for her cell phone. “I’ll just call my grandfather and see if he can take me down to the hatchlings. Or you can loan me your key card.” Everyone at the Ark had a key card hanging from a lanyard around their neck, except for Butch. He kept his key card in his coat pocket.
Butch flushed with anger. Grace used this tactic on him several times a day. When they got to the Ark, Noah had said that she could “go anywhere and do anything she liked.” He gave her a cell phone that could only call one number … his. “If you have any problem whatsoever, I’m just a call away. I promise you that your problem will vanish.” This was about as true as his telling her that she could go and do anything she liked. But threatening to call Noah Blackwood never failed to enrage Butch McCall. It was impossible to go anywhere behind the scenes without a key card. Grace had one hanging around her neck, but it only opened the front door of the mansion and the keeper work area beneath the Ark. Noah said he was working on getting her a card that opened everything, but that it was a complicated procedure that took time. Grace knew this was a lie, but she hadn’t pushed the issue. She hadn’t pushed any issue with him … yet.
“Let’s go,” Butch said grumpily.
He started walking. Grace followed slowly so Butch would have to stop and wait for her. What Noah had really meant by You can go and do anything you like was You can go and do anything you like as long as Butch, or Yvonne, or I am with you.
No matter what time of day or night Grace left her room on the second floor of the mansion, Butch, Yvonne, or Noah would bump into her within a minute or two and accompany her wherever she wanted to go.
Grace had spotted the surveillance cameras inside her bedroom as soon as she was through the door. They were sophisticated and cleverly concealed, but they were not nearly as clever as the ones Ted and Wolfe had invented. The only place she hadn’t found a camera was in the bathroom, which was only decent, but she supposed this wasn’t beyond Noah’s capabilities if Wolfe was correct about him — and she was beginning to believe he was.
Noah had been friendly, polite, and accommodating, but there was something dangerous lurking beneath his cheerful exterior. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Wolfe had called him.
Grace was determined to uncloak the real Noah Blackwood and find out why her mother’s dying wish was to keep her away from her grandfather.
• • •
Noah Blackwood completed his morning rounds by firing only two people. After he returned from a trip, he usually fired a lot more people than that, so it was a good day for the staff at the Ark. The first person he fired was a keeper who had no idea who Noah was. He’d bumped into Noah in the keeper area beneath the Ark and had the audacity to ask Noah who he was and what he was doing in the restricted area. The second person Noah fired was the assistant curator who had tried to defend the keeper who Noah had just fired. Noah had never trusted the curator anyway — trust being defined as someone who wasn’t afraid of him. This was especially true at the Seattle Ark. His other Arks scattered around the world were what they appeared to be … zoos. But the Seattle Ark was different … very different.
Noah stopped at the security complex where six employees were glued to flat-screen monitors. They knew better than to glance away from the monitors when he entered.
“Where’s Butch?” he asked.
“Level Two with the girl,” the shift supervisor said without taking his eyes off the screen. “Lab 251. No surveillance cameras inside.”
There were cameras in 251, but Noah was the only person who had access to them, and only a few people at the Ark knew what was inside.
“That girl is my granddaughter,” Noah said, an edge to his voice. “Her name is Grace.”
The supervisor tensed, but still didn’t look away from the screen. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Let me know the second she leaves the lab. Call my private line.”
“I will.”
Noah scanned the monitors and the watchers one more time before leaving. As he closed the door behind him, he could almost feel the relief sweeping through the surveillance team.
It brought a small smile to his face.
• • •
Grace and Butch were inside Lab 251.
Yvonne was tossing chunks of bloody meat to the two Mokélé-mbembé hatchlings. The baby dinosaurs snatched the dripping pieces out of the air with lightning speed. They stood four feet tall now, most of it neck, and food passed through them almost as fast as they were able to gobble it down, their feces creating an eye-watering odor that was strong enough to collapse lungs. Butch grimaced and choked back a gag. He hated going into 251, which was one of the reasons Grace insisted on a visit every few hours throughout the day.
Yvonne, on the other hand, did not appear to mind the smell at all. She always had a smile for Grace when she walked into the lab — now the dinosaur nursery. Grace trusted Yvonne less than she trusted Butch and her grandfather. Wolfe had hired Yvonne to train the dolphins aboard the Coelacanth. Little did her uncle know that the woman was a spy who worked for Noah Blackwood. Along with Butch, she had been instrumental in kidnapping the hatchlings, and would have kidnapped Grace if Grace hadn’t chosen to come with them voluntarily. Grace was convinced that Butch would have shot Laurel Lee if she hadn’t broken the standoff by climbing into her grandfather’s helicopter. But that was not the only reason Grace had volunteered.
“How are they doing?” Grace asked as she observed the hatchlings.
“As you can see, they are doing just fine,” Yvonne answered with a cheerful voice but cold eyes. She glanced at her watch. “Just like they were when you were here two hours ago.”
“Oh,” Grace said, just as cheerfully. “I hope I’m not getting in your way by coming here so often.”
“Not at all,” Yvonne said. “You are welcome to visit as often as you like. I love having you.”
Nothing could be further from the truth, and they both knew it.
“Any word about when they’ll be put on display?” Grace asked.
“Again, not since you asked me two hours ago,” Yvonne answered with the same fake cheerfulness. “Or yesterday. I thought you were going to ask your grandfather? The decision lies with him. I just work here.”
“He’s so busy,” Grace said. “I hate to bother him
.” Actually, Grace had been very careful not to ask her grandfather anything about the hatchlings, or anything else. But she hoped that was about to change.
“He is busy,” Yvonne agreed. “But I’m sure he’d tell you if you asked.”
“How’s the training going?” Grace asked, changing the subject.
Yvonne tossed a couple more chunks of meat, which were snapped up and swallowed with single gulps, followed by belches and an explosion of loud noxious gas in stereo.
“I’m still establishing a behavioral baseline,” Yvonne answered. “As you can see, the hatchlings have a healthy appetite, or what we trainers call a good food drive. By manipulating it, I’ll be able to train them to do whatever they are physically capable of. Operant conditioning, it’s called. It’s how all animals are trained.”
Or controlled, Grace thought. The person who controls the food controls the animal. The night before, she had spent several hours in Noah’s library reading about operant conditioning. But food was not the only way to control behavior.
“My grandfather was talking about you this morning at breakfast,” she said.
“Really?” Yvonne’s cold eyes showed some genuine interest.
There it is, Grace thought. Like the operant conditioning books said. Desire. Just a tiny glint, but it was there. Yvonne wanted to know what Noah had said about her.
“He said that he was lucky you were here taking care of the hatchlings,” Grace lied. “That you were doing a fabulous job.”
The truth was that Noah hadn’t even mentioned Yvonne’s name. Like any other morning when he joined her for breakfast, he had spent the entire time tapping on his smartphone and iPad. She had asked him for an iPad of her own. When she returned to her bedroom later that morning, a brand-new iPad was sitting on her bed. Just like the case of Moleskine journals she had requested the first day they arrived at the Ark. It seemed that her grandfather would give her anything she wanted except the truth. And an all-access key card.
“He said that?” Yvonne asked.
Grace nodded. “He also said there were a lot of things you could teach me and suggested I spend as much time with you as I could.”
This wasn’t true, either, but judging by Yvonne’s pleased expression, it was exactly what she wanted to hear.
“Grab some meat,” she said with a smile. “I could use some help feeding these two.”
“I’ll wait outside,” Butch groused.
Grace tugged on a pair of disposable gloves and dug in.
• • •
Noah Blackwood slipped into his granddaughter’s bedroom and closed the door behind him. Checking her room had become part of his “unofficial” rounds since his return. Unlike the three panda cubs, for example, Grace was not on public display, of course. But in a sense, Noah thought with cold calculation, she had to be managed like any other animal in his Ark. One of the most important aspects of zoo management was containment. You had to make sure the animals were secure. From his experience, escape was more likely early in an animal’s stay rather than later. After a few days, or weeks, of regular food, shelter, and comfort, the desire for freedom faltered, replaced by resignation or contentment. Ideally, a well-adjusted specimen, upon discovering an open door, should walk right past the opening without a thought of walking through it. Noah knew that Grace had not yet reached this level of contentment, but he was confident that she would, eventually. Once she realized what he was offering her, and how she’d really come into the world, she would never return to the chaos that was life with Travis Wolfe.
The bedroom had belonged to his daughter, Rose, Grace’s mother. The only changes Noah had made were the addition of cameras and a few framed photos of him and Rose when Rose was young. Rose had never liked framed photos on her walls. Noah didn’t care about the staged family photos, either, but he wished he had installed the cameras when she was there. If he’d been able to keep an eye on Rose like he was watching Grace, he might have been able to prevent Travis from stealing her away.
Don’t look back! he admonished himself with a grim smile. There’s nothing you can do to change the past. You have the future now. You have Grace.
He looked at the nightstand next to the bed. The iPad he’d given her was still in the box, seemingly untouched. Stacked on top of it were the Moleskine journals. He ran his perfectly manicured fingers along the black bindings.
One … two … three … four … five …
He had ordered six for her. One was missing. She wasn’t carrying it in her backpack in the panda exhibit — Butch had gone through it when she wasn’t looking, as he did every day per Noah’s request. And the Moleskine was too big for her pockets. He looked around the room, knowing he could run up to his office and go over the surveillance video instead, but it would be more fun to find the notebook on his own.
He looked in all the obvious places. Her coat, which was hanging on a hook near the door. The desk drawers. The dresser drawers. The bathroom cabinets. Under the bed. Beneath the mattress. In the pillowcases. On the closet shelves. He didn’t find it.
The only reason she would hide the journal was so that no one could read what’s inside.
Grace had been the perfect granddaughter since she’d arrived at the Ark. At least on the surface.
She might be able to fool Butch, Noah thought, but she can’t fool me.
He redoubled his efforts, checking again in the places he had already looked. He called Butch to make sure Grace was still in Lab 251. It wouldn’t do to have her discover her grandfather ransacking her bedroom.
“She’s in the nursery,” Butch said. “I’m right outside the door. Yvonne and her are watching the dinos belch and fart — you’re going to have to put them behind hermetically sealed glass so the visitors don’t faint. Yvonne and Grace are acting like they’re long-lost sisters. I guess Grace has forgotten that Yvonne helped us snatch her from the Coelacanth. Can I get outta here?”
“No. Stay where you are. Call me the second Grace leaves the lab.”
Noah ended the call and walked back into the bedroom’s closet. The mansion was riddled with secret passages. He’d designed it that way. There wasn’t a room in the house, including the bathrooms, that didn’t have another way out. It was one of his most carefully guarded secrets. Not even Rose, when she was alive, knew about the passages, despite the fact there was one right in her closet. It had been years since he had used any of them. Some he had never used.
Click …
A panel slid open with barely a sound. He reached through the opening, switched on the light, and stepped in. It didn’t look like anyone had been there in years. The dust was undisturbed. The Moleskine was not there.
He took a few steps down a narrow aisle. He pushed another button and a second panel slid open, revealing the shower stall in Grace’s bathroom. He stepped through and closed the panel.
Where did you hide it, Grace?
He went through the bathroom cabinets again, then pulled the vanity drawers all the way out to see if she had hidden the journal behind them.
The only place I haven’t looked is …
He walked over to the toilet and pulled the lid off the water tank. Inside, double-wrapped in Ziploc bags, which she had no doubt taken from Lab 251, was the sixth Moleskine.
“Exactly when did your parents text you?” Marty asked. He and Luther were on their way down to the dock where the Coelacanth was moored, to retrieve their gear.
“Good news about your parents,” Luther said.
Marty stopped. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Huh?”
“Spill it,” Marty said.
“They didn’t exactly text me,” Luther admitted.
“What did they do … exactly?”
Luther shrugged.
“Where are they?”
Another shrug.
“They didn’t contact you at all.”
“I’m sure they would have if they’d had the time.”
“You lied to W
olfe.”
“I prefer to think of it as distorting the truth.”
“Why did you lie?”
“I wish you’d quit using that word.”
“Okay, why did you … uh … distort the truth?”
“Because of Grace, you dunce. Someone has to get her out of the clutches of Noah Blackwood.”
“We aren’t sure she’s in his clutches. You and everyone else said she went with him willingly.” When Grace was boarding the chopper, Marty was belowdecks trying to defuse a bomb.
“She didn’t have a choice. She was under duress. If you’d seen it go down, that would have been crystal clear to you like it was to me. We need to get her away from Blackwood.”
“What if she doesn’t want to leave now that she’s there?” Marty did not believe his cousin (and former fraternal twin sister) would choose Noah Blackwood over him and Wolfe, but she was up to something.
“We at least need to talk to her and find out if she’s okay,” Luther stated.
We need to talk to her and find out if she’s lost her mind! Marty thought.
“As much as I’d like get back to Cryptos Island and look around,” Luther continued, “we can’t. If we leave the mainland, we’ll be off the grid. Stuck.”
There were a lot worse places to be stuck than Cryptos, but Marty got the point.
“How do you plan to contact her? Walk up to the mansion, knock on the door, and ask if Grace can come out and play?”
“That’d work,” Luther said with his goofy grin. “Or we could just head over to the Ark, see where she’s hanging out, and talk to her.”
“Yeah,” Marty said. “And maybe while we’re there we can find Butch McCall and Yvonne and have lunch with them. Maybe Noah will join us for a bite. I’m certain they’d be happy to see us.”
“You’re right,” Luther said. “We’ll have to make sure they don’t spot us.”
“With your hair?”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing,” Marty said. “Except that it looks like it’s on fire and it can be seen from the moon.”
