Fear Familiar

by Carolyn Haines

  “What went wrong?”

  “I never knew for certain. The wrong people got blown up.”

  “And they thought Carter did it deliberately.” She was taking broad guesses, but knew she was getting closer and closer to the target.

  “Carter and his associates.”

  “What associates, Rayburn?” She could hear the strain in her voice.

  “I don’t remember their names. Bingington or something like that. Anyway, he was some big cheese in Central America at the time.”

  “How long was this before Carter’s accident?”

  “Two weeks or so.”

  “So it wasn’t gambling debts.” A cold chill raced down her spine. “It wasn’t anything nearly that simple and clean. It was this other. Code One Orange. And Carter had to die because he knew too much.”

  “That’s your assumption, not mine. Listen, I got a customer waiting here. Since I’ve become an honest car salesman, I got to service my clients. I haven’t got time to gab all day on the phone.”

  “Rayburn!” Eleanor felt a sudden attack of panic close in. “If you had seen Carter, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  “He’s dead, Eleanor. I accepted that a long time ago. You should, too. And bury the past, or it’ll eat you alive. Got to go.” There was a click and then the sound of static on the line.

  CATS HAVE an extraordinary sense of direction. Better than dogs, though most people don’t know it. I’m not great on estimating distances, but I can tell you that if I traveled due south, I’d eventually run into the prison where Zelda is confined. It’s a fair distance, but that isn’t really the drawback. It’s all of these damn cars! I mean, think about confronting a highway from my perspective—wheel level. And not a single vehicle willing to slow down and let me across. Getting to Zelda is going to be an exercise in futility, but I’ve got to try. And I’ve got to do something to protect my Eleanor. She was terribly distressed when she came home from work. She didn’t say a word, but it was all over her. That woman is strung as tight as a piano wire. I’m no rocket scientist, but I can predict that something awful happened to her at the university.

  Let’s see, now, this is the second level of the garage. Not a lot of animal traffic through here. There’s not even the scent of another cat. Too bad. Since I left the laboratory, I haven’t had a single conversation with one of my peers. I love Eleanor, and Peter’s okay, but I crave my own people. Maybe next escape, I’ll try for a park or an alley. But now it’s down to work.

  Here’s Eleanor’s car. Nothing unusual about it. No current odor of Dr. Frankenstein, at least. In fact, there’s not one interesting smell in this whole place. Maybe I’d better go topside and check out the street.

  There must be a way to get from here to the lab. Or some way to get Dr. Doolittle over there. The dame is great, but he’s the one with the muscle—and, I suspect, the big interest. The dame is the kind of person who never even thinks of cruelty because it’s alien to her nature. That’s why she makes such a perfect target. I’ve been putting together the tidbits I hear, and it’s clear to me that Eleanor’s in for some serious trouble. She’s part of a plan, a tiny cog in a big gizmo of destruction.

  Well, here’s the street. Traffic is mad in Washington. I’d be one big, greasy spot if I tried to make a dash across this four-lane. It’s not even safe to sit on the street. The dogcatcher will be down on me and before I know it, I’ll end up sold for research again, and believe me, that’s a fate I can miss without shedding a tear.

  But look! There’s that tall blond guy. Mr. CIA with the gray suit and the debonair smile. Yeah, he’s sitting in that car across the street. If he’s protection, then I’d rather buy a German shepherd. It seems like he should be showing a little interest in who comes and goes in the dame’s building. He obviously thinks his job is to watch her. Great! Now that’s human logic. Why isn’t he out trying to find a criminal?

  Well, enough people-gazing. I’d better get back in the apartment before the dame realizes I’m gone and has a catniption— hey, hey, that’s pretty clever, if I do say so myself.

  Peter closed his office door and pulled the photocopied flyer from his pocket. He hadn’t wanted to read it in Eleanor’s company. Now he studied it carefully. There was the gruesome picture of a dog in some experiment, then a brief paragraph of copy calling for action against animal abuse.

  “There will be a rally of the Action for Animals at 7:00 p.m., Wednesday night at Pier 27,” he read aloud. He knew the area, a small section of houseboats on the Potomac. It was the perfect meeting place for a radical group. Especially one planning some new aggressive action. Would Eleanor be there? There was only one way to find out.

  He slid the note into the middle drawer of his desk and locked it. He had one other task to accomplish before the afternoon slipped away. That was a visit with Magdalena Caruso. Just as soon as he finished with his afternoon patients.

  It was nearly five, with traffic turning thick and irritating, when he pulled up in front of Magdalena’s house. He expected Bowser, but the cats were something of a surprise.

  “I have two more left at my kennels. The owners decided it was too much trouble or too expensive to care for them. Would you like them?” Peter asked her as she showed him into her crowded living room.

  “Not necessarily. But I’ll take them.’’

  Peter couldn’t conceal his smile. His visit wasn’t one of pleasure, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a lot of respect for the short woman who bustled about, making room for him on her sofa. She put her money where her mouth was. She didn’t simply criticize the way other people treated animals. She took care of them herself.

  “You’ve come to talk about Eleanor, haven’t you?” she asked, taking a seat across from him.

  “Is she a member of ARSA?” There was no point evading the issue.

  “No, Peter, but I’d like for you both to be.”

  “I’m a vet,” he said, looking deep into her green eyes.

  “We could use a good vet. Some of the animals we get are in pretty bad shape.” She smoothed her skirt. ‘‘We’ve tried several vets in the area. Some will help, but not if it’s obvious what we’re doing.”

  “They’re afraid of losing their license. You know that.”

  “I do. But something tells me you wouldn’t necessarily be afraid. Why is it Peter, that you look so familiar to me?”

  “I look like a million other guys with brown hair and hazel eyes. We aren’t exactly unusual.” He smiled his crooked smile.

  “It’ll come to me. I’ll have to think about it but it’ll come. So what do you want to know about Eleanor?”

  “Just after her office was destroyed, I found a flyer for a rally. The Action for Animals group.”

  “AFA?” Magdalena paused. “I didn’t know they were in the area. They must have been the group that staged the raid that has everyone so worked up. Eleanor had a flyer?”

  “It was in her office, but the thought has crossed my mind that it could have been planted. That’s the thing. People are breaking in not to steal, but to leave incriminating evidence behind. I’m beginning to wonder what was left in her apartment.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that maneuver worked,” Magdalena said. “That’s an old but effective trick.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  Magdalena smiled. “If you won’t save animals, at least you’re willing to save Eleanor. Well, what we can do is arrange a meeting for Dr. Duncan and Charles Breck. Once Breck takes a look at Eleanor, he’ll see she isn’t capable of violent actions.”

  ‘‘Can you arrange it?”

  “Yes. I’ll call Eleanor tonight. You just make certain that she agrees to come.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “And Peter, I’ll remember where I know you from. Eventually.”

  “Maybe I was your vet in another lifetime.” He laughed as he stood to leave.

  On the drive back to Eleanor’s, he tried to frame a reaso
n for barging in on her evening. At last he remembered the movie date they’d broken. He stopped at a video store and picked up a tape of The Bishop’s Wife and hurried to Eleanor’s building.

  “Want to check out Cary Grant in action?” he asked, holding out the tape when she opened the door.

  “Peter.” She was surprised. She’d thought of him repeatedly during the afternoon, but had never expected him to materialize at her door. She touched her hair and remembered she was completely without makeup.

  “You look fresh and scrubbed and very much like a girl who needs a good movie,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “How about that popcorn?” He edged past her into the apartment.

  “Well, I hadn’t made any plans.” She hesitated. What would it hurt to watch a movie? “Okay.” Her nerves were still raw from her talk with Rayburn. The truth was, she was more than glad to see Peter. He could make her feel secure when no one else could.

  Peter built a blazing fire while she listened to the sound of popping kernels in the microwave. “Old-time popcorn was so much harder, and I don’t think it tastes any better,” she said. “You’d be hard put to get me to admit to modern improvements in a lot of traditions, but microwave popcorn is a definite step forward for mankind.”

  Peter put the fire screen back into place. He settled down on the sofa and took a large handful of the buttery corn. “I won’t argue that point.” Picking up the remote control, he flipped on the movie. “So let’s relax.”

  The credits had barely finished when the telephone rang.

  “Tell them to call back,” he teased her, but watched her alertly as she took the call.

  “I will,” she promised, lifting the receiver, “after this call.”

  “Why, Magdalena, how are you?” She raised her eyebrows at Peter, and he flicked the movie to Mute.

  “Tomorrow evening? Yes, I could manage that. Charles Breck has agreed to meet with me. Of course, I’ll tell Peter,” she said. She replaced the receiver before she looked at him.

  “As you heard, I have an appointment with Breck tomorrow. Magdalena Caruso arranged it. He thinks I’m some undercover animal rights radical.” There was no amusement, only worry or her face.

  “Where’s the meeting?” Peter asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m to go over to Magdalena’s, and she’ll take me from there. She asked me to tell you. And she said if we aren’t back by eight that you should—” She stopped.

  “I should what?”

  Eleanor looked up. For the first time, Peter saw the depth of her worry in her eyes and felt a nasty twinge of guilt.

  “That you should notify the authorities and find us a very good lawyer. She said we’d need one.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eleanor wiped her palms on her wool slacks. A lingering, unpleasant odor came from the empty cages all around her.

  “The research here was vital,” Charles Breck was saying. “The break-in and violation of federal security is intolerable.” He looked directly at Magdalena Caruso as he spoke.

  “Prove it, Breck,” she responded, not the least bit ruffled. “I’ve got a doctor’s certificate that says I can’t walk long distances or run. I’d be a fool to break into a research lab in my physical condition.”

  “Your ability to act the fool has never ceased to amaze me.” Breck’s tone was severe, as was his expression.

  “What type of research was conducted here?” Eleanor asked. She felt completely at odds with her surroundings, and in contrast to her expectations, Breck acted as if she were one of Magdalena’s associates. He acted as if she might be armed and violent, and Magdalena was doing nothing to counteract that impression!

  “We weren’t really engaged in research,” Cal Vrenner, the white-coated scientist, said smoothly. “At the stage of the break-in, we were really more of a training center. Obedience.” He smiled at her.

  “Dogs and cats?” she asked. Familiar was at the back of her mind, and she could hardly look at the cages with the mesh wire bottoms. For an animal with padded feet that type of cage would be sheer torture.

  “A little more sophisticated,” Vrenner said.

  “You seem proud of your work, Vrenner. Maybe we could see a little demonstration of what you’re training.” Magdalena’s voice held only contempt. “What’s the penalty for disobedience? A slap? A kick? Maybe an injection of drain cleaner?”

  “That’s enough of that, Magdalena,” Breck told her. “Cal has been involved in a small project that we at the CIA are very interested in seeing happily completed. And you’ll be glad to know that it involves no cruelty.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Magdalena’s gaze challenged Vrenner, and Eleanor felt a new appreciation of the short woman. She had once said she was capable of anything to save an animal, and Eleanor now understood how far that meant she’d go. Magdalena hated Vrenner. She hated him with a raw passion that could turn into violence. She must have despised him the first minute she’d laid eyes on him.

  “Get the ape,” Breck said, breaking the tension that flowed between Magdalena and Vrenner. He straightened the coat of his dark suit.

  “Of course,” Vrenner agreed with a modest amount of deference. “I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as he was out of the room, Breck rounded on Magdalena. “Watch your step,” he warned her. “Vrenner is a dedicated scientist, but he has a temper. You could push him too far.”

  “I’d love to be on the other end of an assault charge from that man,” Magdalena fumed. “And if you’re implying he’d slug a woman, what must he do to these animals when there’s no one around to control him!”

  Vrenner returned before Breck could respond. He led a small female orangutan on a silver leash. The collar around her neck was jeweled.

  “Curtsy,” Vrenner commanded.

  The ape executed a perfect curtsy, sweeping her head almost to the floor in front of Magdalena.

  “Kiss hand,” Vrenner said.

  Magdalena’s hand was clutched by the monkey and kissed.

  The plump woman grasped the ape’s hand and held it, turning it over to reveal a series of sores, some of them heavily scabbed.

  “What is this?” Magdalena demanded.

  “Unfortunately, in trying to give the ape some freedom from her cage, she was left unsupervised. She decided to play with a Bunsen burner that was lighted. The burns weren’t deep. We’ve made sure she had veterinary care,” Vrenner said. There was no apology in his voice, but rather a note of careful pride. “We take care of our animals, Mrs. Caruso, whether you want to believe that or not.”

  “I don’t believe it,” she said flatly. “My guess is that you burned the monkey, administering some sort of reprimand.”

  “Prove it!” Vrenner challenged her.

  “I wish I could,” Magdalena answered.

  “How is the ape’s training coming along?” Breck interjected.

  “Beautifully. She’ll be ready for the ceremony day.”

  “I’m delighted,” he said. Turning to Magdalena, he explained further. “She’s a gift to a foreign leader, a man known for his fondness of apes and his kind treatment. An old friend of mine, Frederick Nottingham, wanted to give the ape as a gift, and I agreed to help him find suitable training. She’s going to be a surprise, and if her training continues successfully, maybe an asset. What with the curtsy and all, I think she’ll be a smash success, don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t agree with anything that goes on in this building,” Magdalena said. “If I had my way, I’d take the ape with me to some reputable trainer.”

  “Are you implying that I’m not reputable?” Vrenner demanded.

  “I’m not implying anything,” Magdalena answered coolly. “I’m saying it outright. You’re scum, Vrenner. I know your reputation, even if Charles is too thickheaded to look at the facts. I despise you and your cohorts, and whenever I get the chance, however it comes, I intend to destroy your little business. Proper training doesn’t require physical
pain. I know you.”

  The tension in the room was electric. For a wild moment, Eleanor thought Magdalena might pull out a gun and shoot the scientist. Or vice versa.

  Breck stepped between the two. “Enough. I thought I could show you and your associate—” he stared at Eleanor “—some positive work. I can see now that the effort was wasted. We’d better leave.”

  “What about the ape?” The words were out of Eleanor’s mouth before she could stop herself. Breck’s cold look told her that she was damned in his eyes.

  “She’s perfectly fine.” Breck’s tone was harsh; he put a hand onto Eleanor’s shoulder and started to push. “I hoped you’d at least understand the necessity of animal use. After all, you’ve done your own research with communications.”

  Eleanor balked. “What are you talking about?”

  Breck looked at Vrenner. The scientist shook his head. “Excuse me, I misspoke. The car is waiting.”

  “Where are the rest of the animals?” Eleanor pointed to the empty cages. “You don’t keep cats or dogs in this type of cage, do you? The mesh hurts their paws.”

  “I knew you had it in you,” Magdalena said, nodding approval.

  “I don’t have anything in me. I’m not on anybody’s side in this, but some things aren’t to be tolerated.” She shook herself free of Breck’s hand. “And I’m not to be pushed around like some criminal element.”

  “Out of here!” Breck commanded. “Both of you! Magdalena, this is the last time. Don’t call me, don’t expect any advice or assistance. I’m finished with you. I’m sure now that you are responsible for the break-in here, and I believe Dr. Duncan was also involved.”

  “Believe what you want to,” Eleanor retorted. Now her own temper had risen to a dangerous level. “The lab is funded by federal monies, I suppose. Well, maybe this is something the taxpayers should look into.”