Harper moved closer to me, and I put my arm around her. "I don't think so, Garth," she said. "Robby hasn't wiped out its training program or its instincts. He hasn't created a cowardly lobox, just a very confused one. It won't go very far."
"Right," I said. "It won't go back to Luther unless it kills me-or chooses to believe that it can't, or shouldn't."
Garth looked back and forth between Harper and me. "So what happens now?"
"What happens now is that I want the two of you to go up to the cheap seats by the vents and watch my next trick," I said, and stepped out through the doorway.
"Mongo?! What the hell-?!"
"You said I should make it mine," I said, waggling one end of a nunchaku stick at my startled brother. I took the broken padlock out of my pocket, glanced at it, then tossed it away. There was no sense in trying to lock up my brother, because he would be through the door just about in time to distract me from what I had to do. And probably get himself killed. "Well, I don't have time to explain to you how I propose to do that, or why it has to be done this way. But I have to go now. I'll be all right. You wait here. If you want to watch, you take Harper with you and go up to the vent at the front."
Without waiting for a reply, I wheeled around and started walking across the silo floor, pausing to pat a very skittish Mabel on the trunk. I edged carefully up to the slightly open door and could feel Mabel moving up behind me. Standing just at the edge of a wedge of sunlight that streamed in through the opening, I took a series of deep breaths, trying to relax and steady my nerves.
If the lobox was waiting for me just on the other side of the silo wall, I was a dead man. Yet I had no choice but to go out and face it. I sucked in one last deep breath, slowly exhaled, then stepped out of the silo into the bright sunlight.
So far, so good.
The lobox was lying on the patch of grass about twenty yards away, to my right. It sprang to its feet when it saw me, but remained where it was. I spun my nunchaku sticks, first one and then the other, then gripped them and smacked them together. The hide of the lobox began to quiver, its ruff suddenly expanded, and it charged.
It might have been wishful thinking, but in the second or two I had to evaluate distance, speed, and angles as the lobox rushed at me, it seemed to me that the animal was not moving with its former speed. Since I had not really hurt anything but its pride, I had to assume that its relative slowness represented a newfound uncertainty and lack of confidence on its part. It was a beginning, I thought as I leaped to my left at the same instant as the creature screamed, left its feet, and came flying through the air at my head. For one terrifying second I thought I had misjudged, and that its claws would tear off my right arm, but it missed-and I swung my sticks-on-a-chain, caught the lobox on its right flank. It yelped in pain, landed, screamed, and spun around to face me.
I smacked the sticks together again, took two quick steps toward the animal, stopped and crouched, ready. The lobox backed away a few feet, then abruptly stopped and stared at me.
"Come on, furball," I said, banging the sticks together. "Want to try again?"
It most certainly did want to try again. The creature suddenly sprang forward, its claws slipping in the dirt at its feet. It seemed even slower now-or I was gaining confidence. This time I was easily able to sidestep the animal's leap, and as it passed me in the air I swung a stick down hard on the top of its skull, then managed to whip the stick around again and catch it on a hind leg. The lobox yelped loudly. This time it stumbled when it landed. It went down, rolled over, got up.
But now its ruff was down.
"Come on," I said, furiously clicking the sticks together. "Come on!"
I inched forward, to within a yard, again crouched and waited.
Suddenly the beast seemed to collapse-or the front end of it seemed to collapse. It dropped the top of its head to the ground, pushed with its hind legs. Its rear end went up, and for a moment it balanced on its head, before toppling over on its side. It got up, once more appeared to try to stand on its head, toppled over. This time it didn't get up. It rolled over on its back, thrust all four legs stiffly into the air, and extended its head back, exposing its throat.
It was the damnedest thing I ever saw.
And then I remembered that I had seen it once before-or a depiction of a lobox trying to stand on its head, in the photograph Nate Button had shown me of one of the Lascaux paintings. Button had said that the painting had been done by a poor artist who had been unable to capture the terror Cro-Magnon felt before the lobox. Button had been wrong.
The Cro-Magnon artist had painted a lobox displaying a posture of submission.
Well, well, well.
I suppressed a nervous, near-hysterical giggle and backed off a few steps to ponder the meaning of it all. Behind and above me, from the direction of the silo, I heard the sound of clapping. I turned in that direction, using my peripheral vision to keep track of the supine lobox, looked up, and saw Harper standing at the edge of the vent halfway up the side of the silo.
"My hero!" Harper called.
"You did good, Mongo," Garth said in a low voice that nevertheless carried clearly to me. I lowered my gaze, saw that Garth was standing next to Mabel just outside the open silo doors. "You did real good."
I waved my nunchaku sticks in their direction, resisting the impulse to make an elaborate bow. In fact, I knew that the real test of just what I had actually accomplished was yet to come, and I saw no sense in further delaying it. Without giving myself any more time to think about it, I unhesitatingly strode over to the lobox, which was still lying on its back with its legs thrust stiffly into the air, looked down into its golden eyes, which now seemed curiously veiled, clouded.
"Be careful, Mongo," Garth continued in the same low tone. "Don't press your luck."
Very carefully, and also very gently, I touched the animal's rib cage with the end of one of my sticks. "Up," I said. I waited a few moments, then applied slightly more pressure. "Up."
Damned if it didn't get up, and stand with its great head slightly bowed. Up close, with things temporarily at a standstill, I was reminded of just how big this creature was; its shoulders were at a level with my head. Now, a single, even half-hearted swing of its great maw with its saber teeth would have stripped my face, and probably my head, away. And yet, suddenly, I was no longer afraid. I sensed what it sensed, that I was in control.
I gently applied pressure with the end of the stick to its hindquarters. "Uh. . sit?"
Damned if it didn't sit.
"Bravo, Robby!" Harper shouted from her perch, clapping furiously. "You've done it! He's yours!"
"Garth!" I shouted over my shoulder. "Bring me a rope, will you?! Make it a long one!"
"No need to shout, Mongo. I'm right behind you."
His voice was so close that it startled me. "You've got balls, brother," I mumbled.
"Not as big as yours, brother."
I tentatively reached out, laid my hand on the lobox's flank. It didn't move.
"I was about to tell you to throw me the rope, so that you wouldn't have to get too close. What the hell do you think you're doing? This thing and I are just getting to know each other."
"Oh, it looks to me like you've got the situation well in hand," Garth said casually. "With Mongo the Magnificent on its case, what chance did this poor, dumb beast ever really have? I just wanted to get a close-up view of the fruits of your labors."
"Yeah, well, I don't want you to get lazy on me now. I still need you to bring me a rope."
"Why? There's no need to tie it up."
"I don't plan to tie it up. The rope is to use as a leash."
"I'll be right back," Garth said, and started walking toward the silo.
As Garth, with Mabel patting him on the back with her trunk, disappeared inside the silo, Harper suddenly cried out in alarm.
"Robby, there's somebody coming! It looks like one of those big circus trucks!"
Chapter Twelve
It t
urned out to be one of the huge circus semis. It took it a while to wend its way through the grain elevator complex, but it certainly wasn't difficult to follow Mabel's and the lobox's tracks in the dirt and dust to the triple silo site. The semi came around a building, turned toward us, and then made another tight turn, finally coming to a stop seventy-five yards away with a squeal and hiss of air brakes. I was surprised to see the semi; I had expected cars or jeeps, with perhaps a spotter plane leading the way, and a small army of men with guns.
The door of the dusty cab opened, and Luther, dressed in brown leather pants and boots, and a leather jacket with long fringes, got out. He looked like Buffalo Bill with a shaved head, and he appeared to be alone-which was my second surprise. I had hoped to bluff my potential killers into simply taking me captive, but Luther didn't look in the mood to take prisoners. There was an air of desperation about him. He was wearing his Magnum in a holster strapped to his side, and he carried a Smith amp; Wesson 30–06 pump action rifle with a ten-round clip. He'd obviously come loaded for elephant as well as dwarf.
Luther slowly walked toward me, then stopped when he was about twenty yards away from where I sat perched cross-legged on top of Mabel's head, in front of the open double doors to the silo. He glanced to his right, toward the lobox, which was back lying on its patch of grass perhaps fifteen yards away, with its red tongue lolling out between its saber teeth, looking thoroughly inscrutable. Having no reason not to believe that the lobox was still patiently waiting for a chance to tear me up into bite-size morsels, Luther simply rested his hand on the holstered Magnum, but did not draw it. Then he turned his attention back to me.
"I wish I had agreed to sell you the circus, Frederickson," he said evenly.
I reached out and scratched Mabel's head. "You and me both, Luther. If you had, Nate Button would still be alive."
"As would my father. Being crushed under the feet of an elephant is not a pleasant way to die."
"If you and your father hadn't decided to field-test your assassination weapon on humans, a number of people would still be alive. Being torn apart by one of these fellows you people brought back from extinction can't be any picnic either."
The animal trainer nodded slightly. "We stayed too long. I had argued for some time that the animal had been sufficiently tested. My father wanted more."
"You're not only a murderer, Luther, but you're full of shit. Are you going to blame it on your father? For Christ's sake, how many people had to die before you'd proved to yourself that a lobox was a viable assassination weapon? I think you were just getting off on it, Luther. You were so proud of yourself that you just wanted to keep on playing with the toy you'd created. It must have given you an enormous sense of power. Maybe you were even amused by all the werewolf stories; you liked reading about your pets in the newspapers."
It was probably at least partially true, and he didn't like me saying it. "There were problems, Frederickson. You don't know the whole story. You don't understand."
"Poor you."
"You've jeopardized years of work and millions of dollars."
"Jeopardized? I'll be damn sorry if I haven't wiped it out-but I think that's what's happened. I'm curious as to why you're so short-handed, Luther. Last night, back at the circus, you certainly had plenty of hired help. Or was it loaned? Those men were provided to you by the same people, government or private industry, who helped you set up in this country, weren't they? Where are they now? And what the hell are you doing traipsing all over the countryside in a truck that size?"
Luther glanced at the lobox, then back at the truck. "I have everything I need," he said in a somewhat cryptic tone that was barely audible.
So he was alone, I thought. On his own. I pondered what could have happened, then thought I had come up with the answer. "It was my last performance that did it. Right, Luther? That, and the death of your father. There was no way the local and state authorities could fail to hear about that; there were too many citizens. The cops' phones must have been ringing off the hooks. The people sponsoring you knew there were going to be too many questions, too much heat. They knew the game was up, and they closed you down, didn't they? They didn't care about you, or the lobox, or anything else except making sure they covered their tracks. They expected you to leave the country with all the rest of the performers, but you obviously had your own notions. You thought that if you could get this missing lobox, and kill the three of us, then everything might still work out. It won't. You've lost your sponsors, Luther, and at the moment I'll bet they're a hell of a lot more worried about you being a loose cannon than they are about me. You're lucky you're still alive."
"You're not exactly in a position to gloat, Frederickson."
"I'm not gloating," I replied, noting that he had virtually confirmed my speculation. "I'm just telling you the facts of life, as interpreted by me. I'm stating the obvious. So, why did you bring the semi? Couldn't you find anything smaller?"
He didn't answer-and then I knew. I felt a chill, and I swallowed hard. My mouth had suddenly gone dry. "You've got the entire lobox breeding stock in there, haven't you? Christ, you still think there's a chance you can get them all back to Switzerland, keep breeding them, start selling them."
"I believe you're sitting on my property."
"What a startling change of subject, Luther. Why don't you come up here and join me, and we'll talk about it."
It had been the wrong thing to say. He abruptly snapped the Smith amp; Wesson's bolt into place, put his finger on the trigger. "I won't challenge Mabel's loyalty to you, Frederickson. You know how I feel about animals, but I am prepared to kill her if you try to get her to move against me."
"I have no doubt of it. Relax, Luther. As you can see, Mabel and I are just kind of hanging out here, waiting for somebody to come around so I could surrender. However, now that the situation becomes clearer, I'm thinking that maybe you should surrender to me."
"Don't be absurd, Frederickson. Why are you still here?"
"I just told you. That fanged fiend over there makes it imperative that I stay where I am, and it's tough being on the run when you have to run around on an elephant. You should try it."
"Where are your brother and your girlfriend?"
"Garth and Harper? Oh, they split." "Split?"
"They left. Vamoose. Adios. Who wants to hang around this dreary place? Besides, they don't like elephants as much as I do."
"I don't believe they'd leave you."
"They didn't leave me, Luther; they went for help. As soon as we figured out just how single-minded a lobox is-in this case, single-minded about getting me-they split. Hell, there was no sense in all of us waiting around here for you or your people to come and get us. By now, they're probably sitting comfortably in some state police office telling their story."
"I don't think I believe you," Luther said after a long pause.
"You believe what you want, pal. The fact of the matter is that there are only us chickens here now, but that won't be the case for very long. Help is on the way-help for me, that is. Authorities your people don't control will know the story by now. Killing me won't do you any good, unless it will make you feel better. The best deal you can make is to put that lobox down there in the truck and then turn your guns over to me. You're a potential embarrassment to some very powerful people in this country, and you're probably in a hell of a lot of trouble for detouring from your established escape route. I know people who can guarantee your safety. You'll go to prison, sure, but prison is better than dead. You can spend your time trying to tame some of our wilder inmates."
Luther wasn't amused. He stared at me. He continued to stare for some time, then abruptly spun around and walked quickly back to the truck. He went to the right side of the semi, where there were three sets of double doors. He opened the middle doors and quickly stepped back. Two loboxes-females that were smaller than the males by almost a half, grayer in color, and lacking the distinctive black markings on their backs-jumped from the truc
k to the ground and streaked toward the open doors behind Mabel and me. They disappeared inside the first silo without so much as a glance at the male lobox, or me.
"Your brother and the woman don't appear to have gotten as far as you thought," Luther said as he walked back toward Mabel and looked up at me. His glacial blue eyes glinted in the bright sunlight.
There was no sound from inside the silo, and I imagined the two loboxes crouched somewhere in the semidarkness, lying in wait for their prey.
"Tough luck, Luther," I said, glancing behind me toward the silo, then looking back at Luther. "Garth and Harper were in there; we all were. But they took off out a door at the back of the third silo while I sat out here to make sure this lobox remained preoccupied with me. Those two females are on an old scent."
"We'll see," Luther said. His voice was even, but he looked slightly uncertain.
"Why are you running females now, Luther?" I asked, watching him carefully. "And they look to be pretty puny females at that-maybe lobox-wolf hybrids. Considering all the years you and your father have spent breeding these things, I'd have thought you had a sufficient supply of males, but I guess not. Reverse breeding with a wolf and a kuvasz to get a lobox must be even more difficult than I thought. It looks to me like you're running low on stock."
Luther said nothing, but the muscles in his jaw and face tightened revealingly. I wondered just how many loboxes were in the truck, and why he would run females after Garth and Harper now. Harper had killed one male. .
I wondered if the lobox crouching on the ground could be the only adult male Luther had left.
Finally, Luther said, "If your brother and the woman are in the silo, and I believe they are, the females will be sufficient to find and kill them."
Not unless Luther had trained them to climb vertical steel ladders. "I told you they're gone, and the authorities are probably on their way here now. Maybe that's your good fortune, considering the other people who may be after you. After you've.thought about it a while longer, you'll see that it's in your best interests to surrender to me. In the meantime, let's talk about that whole story you said I didn't know. Maybe it will explain why you stuck around so long, and why so many innocent people had to die. There's something wrong with the lobox breeding program, isn't there? Tell me how you and your father failed-"
The Fear In Yesterday's rings m-10 Page 21
