Chupacabra

by Roland Smith

  Luther was in the same spot he had been in a couple of hours earlier. On the screen it looked like he was in the middle of the orangutan exhibit, but Marty knew he was beneath it somewhere. Phil and Phyllis were flying north and were halfway back to the States. Wolfe was in McLean, Virginia, across the Potomac River and a few miles west of Washington, DC. Marty zoomed in closer and saw that Wolfe was at the Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters. It didn’t surprise him.

  Spooks will love the technology he and Ted have developed.

  He checked Ted next and found that he was still off the grid. He unbuckled a side pocket on his pack and found an energy bar that didn’t look too contaminated. He unwrapped it carefully and started to eat.

  • • •

  Grace was eating, too. Carrots — steamed and slathered with butter and garlic. She was eating them slowly because she didn’t want to eat the only other thing on her plate, which was a huge slab of rare beef. She was afraid it would moo if she cut into it. Her grandfather had no such reservations. He was carving his meat and forking it into his mouth like a hungry butcher. He hadn’t even glanced at his carrots.

  To her surprise, Noah Blackwood had been waiting for her when she arrived for dinner.

  “You’re not eating,” he said now.

  “I’m not a big meat eater,” Grace said, wondering how someone who allegedly spent every waking moment protecting animals could devour animals at every meal.

  “Vegetarian?”

  Grace gave him the smile. “No, just a picky eater, I guess.”

  Blackwood forked another hunk of rare muscle into his mouth. The bottom of his plate was bloody. He dabbed away a spot of beef fat on his white beard with a napkin and gave her a teasing smile.

  “Tomorrow night the cuisine may be more to your liking,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Grace asked, returning his smile. But inside she was worried.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise, but it occurred to me that maybe you don’t like surprises. Some people don’t.”

  “I love surprises!” Grace lied.

  “I’m glad, but I’ll tell you anyway, since I’ve already let the cat out of the bag. Tomorrow, you and I will be dining at the Michelin-starred Alain Déclassé au Plaza Athena restaurant in Paris.”

  “France?” Grace knew exactly where the restaurant was. She had dined there with Sylvia and Timothy O’Hara when she and Marty were little kids. Thanks to Marty, the meal had been unforgettable. It had started with a platter of escargot. Marty had complained to the waiter that the snails were overcooked and tasted like tainted slugs. The angry chef had come out of the kitchen and yelled at them. Marty insisted he had cooked them for too long at too high a temperature. The dinner had gone downhill from there, and they left long before dessert — to the waiter’s and the other diners’ delight. Timothy and Sylvia swore they would never take Marty to another restaurant ever again. Of course, they didn’t keep their promise. Two days later they were at another famous Parisian eatery, which the eightyear-old Marty claimed was one of the best restaurants in the world. After dinner he had spent two hours in the kitchen with the chef talking food.

  “If I get all of my work done tonight,” Noah continued, “we’ll leave tomorrow morning in my private jet. I haven’t visited my Paris Ark in several weeks, so this will be a working holiday, but we’ll definitely make some time to take in some sights. What do you say?”

  What Grace wanted to say was no, but that would have been out of character for the adoring granddaughter.

  What young girl would pass up a chance to go to Paris with her wealthy grandfather?

  She broadened her smile, which really hurt, and said, “That’s fantastic!”

  Noah beamed back at her, apparently feeling no jaw strain at all, and said, “I thought you’d feel that way.”

  What Grace was really feeling was fear.

  Why does Noah want to get out of town now? Out of the country? What happened today that made him want to leave?

  “What about the hatchlings?” Grace asked.

  “Chip off the old block,” Noah said, still smiling. “Wildlife first. We’ll take them with us, of course.”

  “On your jet?”

  “Just like we flew them in here.”

  “But they’re a lot bigger now.”

  “We have plenty of room. It will be just you and me and Yvonne. Maybe even Butch.” Noah’s smile faded and his blue eyes narrowed. “Do you not want to go to Paris?”

  It was the last place Grace wanted to go. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “Of course I want to go! I’m just worried about the hatchlings. Moving them could be stressful.”

  “And not taking them with us could be dangerous,” Noah said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Travis Wolfe,” he stated.

  This was the first time he had mentioned her father’s name since she had gotten to the Ark.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, although she understood perfectly.

  “He is going to try to get the hatchlings back,” Noah answered, locking his blue eyes on hers. “He will try to get you back.”

  Grace met his gaze and did not blink. “I came here voluntarily.”

  “I don’t think that matters to Travis,” Noah said.

  “Are you saying he’ll try to kidnap me?”

  “That’s definitely a possibility,” Noah said.

  “Is that why we’re going to Paris?”

  “No,” Noah insisted. “We are going to Paris to take care of Ark business and have some fun. I’m not worried about Travis Wolfe, and you shouldn’t be, either.”

  The only worry Grace had about Wolfe was what Noah Blackwood might do to him if he caught him trying to take the hatchlings back, which she was certain he was going to attempt at some point. It would be a lot more difficult to retrieve them if they were in France.

  “Will we bring the hatchlings back here?” she asked.

  Noah wiped his hands with a napkin and stood up from the table. “Eventually, but I’m not sure when. We have wonderful facilities in Paris….” He paused, then added, “And in other countries. I know you’re attached to the hatchlings, Grace. By jet, regardless of where they are, they will only ever be a few hours away, and you can visit them whenever you like.” He looked at his watch. “I have some work to do and you need to pack. I’m hoping to get an early start tomorrow.” He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “I almost forgot. Don’t leave the mansion tonight for any reason. We’re sanitizing the Ark.”

  “You mean cleaning it?” Grace asked.

  “In a sense. We’re located in a very urban area. Periodically we have to search the Ark for homeless people and pests. It’s a health and legal issue.”

  Grace knew this was not true. She had done a perimeter tour with the resentful Butch the second day she was there. Nothing bigger than an opossum could squeeze through the security fence surrounding the Ark. And even if it did, it wouldn’t be able to avoid the cameras that seemed to track every move every visitor made.

  “How do you find them?” she asked.

  “We have specially trained dogs, which is why I don’t want you to leave the mansion.” He smiled. “And don’t worry, the dogs are aggressive, but no harm comes to anyone. They simply round the people and pests up. The rodents are humanely euthanized. Larger animals like raccoons are relocated. And the people are taken to a shelter, which I pay for, where they are fed and given a helping hand.” He gave her a charming chuckle. “Wildlife first is certainly my first priority, but helping people in need is a close second. My staff thinks I’m insane. They say that people sneak into the Ark intentionally so that they can gain entry into the shelter. There might be some truth to that, but I’m not going to change my ways. The shelter is my way of giving back. I’ve actually gone so far as to hire a few of the people we’ve picked up over the years. I’ve even paid for some of their educations.”

  He must think I’m incredibly dense to be
lieve this hogwash, Grace thought, barely able to keep her fake smile in place. She wanted to ask him how dogs go about picking up rodents without harming them, but she didn’t.

  “I bet the people you help are grateful,” she said.

  “Very,” Noah said.

  “Perhaps I could volunteer at the shelter,” Grace said.

  “What a wonderful idea! I’ll set it up as soon as we get back from Paris. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Stay inside.”

  “No problem,” she said cheerfully. “I’m tired. I was planning on going to sleep early anyway.”

  Noah left her alone in the dining room with her uneaten dinner.

  Grace had no intention of sleeping or staying inside.

  Luther’s dinner was all over the floor. He puked again, then crawled away on his hands and knees to get away from the sour puddle.

  His head hurt. He grabbed it with two hands, trying to stop the pounding, thinking that it was going to fall off his neck. It didn’t help.

  He put his hand in front of his face. He couldn’t see it.

  I’m blind! he thought. Or maybe I’m dead! Then he realized that dead people don’t puke, have headaches, or worry about being blind. He remembered the anaconda slow-eating the rabbit, the dragonspy, talking to Marty, and Butch McCall. After that everything was a blank.

  He felt the floor. It was cool to the touch.

  Linoleum or cement.

  He put out his hands and felt for a wall.

  I’m in a room. Rooms have light switches.

  He followed the wall on his knees, afraid that his legs wouldn’t hold him up.

  A lot of wall. Big room.

  He came to what felt like a door frame. And that’s when he smelled it. Unmistakable.

  The hatchlings.

  The stench was coming from beneath the door, faint, but they were definitely near. He sniffed again. It smelled worse than his vomit, but as bad as it smelled, he found himself leaning forward for a second helping. He wouldn’t admit it to Marty, or anyone else, but he actually missed the prehistoric gasbags. He liked how they went nuts when they saw him and followed him around like very ugly puppies. He took yet another sniff, and strangely, the killer headache seemed to get better.

  Maybe there’s something magic in their gas. I could make millions.

  Using the wall to brace himself, he got to his feet. He was still a little unsteady, but he was definitely getting better. He felt around the door frame, found the switch, and flipped it on. For a second he was blinded by the bright light. When his eyes adjusted to the blast, he saw that he was in a laboratory of some kind. Stainless steel work benches, sinks with shelves and cabinets above and below. But the cabinets and shelves were bare. In fact, the whole room was bare, as if it had never been used. There were no windows. The walls were made out of concrete. The door was made out of steel. He tried the handle.

  Locked.

  He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up at the ceiling and saw a camera following him.

  He stuck his tongue out at it.

  • • •

  Marty put his clothes back on. They were still damp and a little itchy. Using the light from the Gizmo screen, he found his way out of the bushes, carefully avoiding the strands of electrified wire. When he reached the path, he launched the dragonspy to scout ahead for security guards, keepers …

  Or whoever wanders around the Ark at night.

  His first task was to get Dylan out of the Dumpster. His second was to find a way underground and find Luther, which was going to be much harder than the first task. The plan to find Grace and talk to her was way down the list now. He flew the dragonspy a hundred feet ahead, tracking its tiny camera eyes back and forth, then catching up with it and sending it forward again. There weren’t too many lights along the paths. When he came to one, he walked in the shadows around it. The night was cooling down, and thick fog was rolling in from Puget Sound. The fog would help to conceal them, but it would also make it harder for the dragonspy to see what lay ahead.

  When the tiny bot reached the concession stand, Marty flew it around the building twice before making his approach. He walked around back and opened a gate. The Dumpster was closed. He tapped on the metal side. The tap was not returned.

  “You in there, Dylan?” Marty whispered.

  The lid flipped open with a bang and Dylan popped up like a jack-in-the-box, scaring Marty half to death.

  “Why didn’t you tap back?”

  “How was I supposed to know it was you tapping on the outside?”

  “You smell like hot dogs,” Marty said.

  Dylan sniffed. “And you smell like … What is that smell?”

  “Rhino pee, among other things,” Marty answered.

  Dylan wrinkled his nose and climbed out, wiping what looked like a smear of mustard off his pants. “I was about ready to come out on my own. I thought you must have gotten nabbed. What took you so long?”

  “I wasn’t kidding about the rhino pee,” Marty said. “I was hiding from Butch McCall.” He brushed his own pants, but the stuff on his leg wasn’t going to come off as easily as the mustard.

  “What do we do now?” Dylan asked, looking around the foggy darkness nervously.

  “We go underground,” Marty said. “We stay clear of Butch McCall so he doesn’t kill us.”

  “Great plan,” Dylan said.

  • • •

  Grace came out of her bathroom in her expensive silk pajamas and gave an exaggerated yawn for the benefit of the camera. She climbed under her silk sheets, gave her pillow a fluff, yawned again for effect, then reached over and switched off the light. She lay still and concentrated on her breathing. The dark room had knocked the cameras out, but she assumed they could hear her. She wondered if she should try a light snore, but decided against it because she didn’t think she was a snorer. Marty would have certainly told her if she had been.

  • • •

  Noah Blackwood looked at the dark screen, listening to Grace breathe. He wondered if she was for real, or if she was like her mother, Rose. After all of these years, his daughter’s deceit still stung. She and Travis Wolfe had completely duped him. They had eloped and disappeared before he even suspected they were a couple. If he had known, he would have done something to stop it. Something that would have separated Travis Wolfe from his daughter forever.

  When Travis returned from the Congo without Rose, Butch offered to kill him. Noah was tempted, but there were problems. One was that Wolfe had become prosperous during his absence. A man of means insulated by a private island, a loyal crew, and the backing of the federal government was not easy to get rid of quietly.

  A second problem was that as much as Noah hated Wolfe, he needed him. Noah flipped on the lights of his diorama and looked at his collection, frozen in time in all their glory. Travis Wolfe was the greatest cryptozoologist there ever was — the only man on earth who could find animals that were not supposed to exist.

  The animals I need.

  He listened to his granddaughter’s breathing for a few more seconds. Satisfied that she was asleep, he clicked another icon, then started to fast-forward through his new episode of Wildlife First. It was a brilliant twenty-two minutes — eight minutes for very expensive commercials. It was certain to get a lot of attention, especially the teaser at the end. He was tempted to send it to his television affiliates around the world right then, but decided against it. He preferred to send the episodes to the affiliates at the last minute.

  There will be plenty of time to upload it in the morning before we head to Paris.

  He took out his cell phone. He had a couple of quick calls to make before he jammed the satellite and cell signals and headed below in his secret elevator. He hit Yvonne’s speed dial.

  Grace slipped out of bed and walked quietly into the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door and put on her clothes in the dark. Earlier in the day she had gathered a few things she thought she would need for her night prowl and p
ut them in her backpack. She felt to make sure everything was there. She pulled out her flashlight and looked at herself in the mirror.

  Black jeans. Black sweater. Black sneakers. All I’m missing to complete the ninja-cat-burglar look is a black stocking cap and black gloves.

  She popped the hidden latch in the shower stall, stepped through the opening, and closed the secret panel behind her. She used her flashlight to guide her. There were lights in the passage, but she didn’t want to use them, afraid someone might notice.

  Someone?

  The only person she had seen in the house was Noah Blackwood. But he had to have people working inside. And they had to be working at night, because she hadn’t seen anyone during the day. She hoped to get to the bottom of that tonight, but her real goal was to find a way up to the third floor. She felt all her questions would be answered there.

  As she made her way along the passage, one thing was obvious: The mansion was built around it. The passage was not an afterthought. She had wondered why the mansion looked so big from the outside but seemed a little cramped inside. She thought it was because of the fake third floor, but it wasn’t. The passage ran around the exterior of the house and was at least four feet wide. It also explained why the windows were so small and high. She was able to walk under the frames without ducking. Wires ran along the ceiling — thick video cable and smaller wires that could be, and probably were, connected to microphones.

  All the bedrooms and bathrooms had a secret door leading into them. Every twenty feet there was a peephole drilled into the wall. The constant camera surveillance was bad enough; now she wondered if Noah had been watching her through the holes. The thought grossed her out. When she got back to her bedroom, she was definitely going to find the peephole and figure out a subtle way to cover it up.

  At the far end of the house, the corridor made a hard right turn, then dead-ended about halfway down the passage.