by Alan Nayes
He leaned closer when he saw her pull the specimen basin beside her. Shelby positioned it in front of the observation bars and removed the cloth. She lifted the juvenile skull, resigned to the fact he would most likely demonstrate the same emotionless reaction as prior to the surgery, which was basically no reaction at all.
Was she wrong! She watched his gaze drop to the skull as she held it nearer the bars. The huge primate canted his head for a closer look. She noticed the muscles of his jaws tense. He sniffed, then he stood up and emitted a long wail. AAEEEEEEE!
He beat his chest and suddenly lunged at the bars, grasping one in each hand.
Shelby leaped back, her heart flipping in her chest. Shit! She heard both guards leap up and she heard the sound of rifles being manipulated. She motioned them back with one palm, while keeping her gaze locked on Goliath. “It’s okay, Goliath.” She stepped nearer.
He seemed to make a conscious decision to not fight the bars; instead, his huge hands slid down as he lowered to a squat. He reached two fingers of his right hand through and made a soft mewling sound.
Shelby moved closer.
“Careful, Dr. Hollister,” a guard cautioned.
Shelby watched the thick fingers twitch twice in succession. She looked down at the skull and back at him. “You want to touch it, don’t you,” she murmured softly.
He continued watching the skull, emitting soft mewls. She noticed how he was breathing faster. He remembers! “Goliath, I’ll let you touch it if you want.” She moved a step closer.
The guard who’d cautioned her warned, “Please, no closer, ma’am.”
“He only wants to touch it. It’ll be okay.” I hope. Shelby held the skull out so his index finger could contact the double sagittal crested cranium. She watched him hesitate. “You can touch, Goliath.”
The index finger extended and contacted the skull. Slowly it ran across the double bony crest and down the forehead. It paused at the orbits, finally stopping at the small round hole above where the right eye had been.
Shelby watched the moisture drip from his eyes. God, he’s crying. She experienced a profound sadness emanating from the giant. His fingertip remained on the skull. Shelby looked up from his finger only to find the giant watching her. Shelby could only guess what was ruminating in that 2200cc brain of his. “I didn’t do this, Goliath.” She motioned to the guards. “We didn’t do this.”
The huge primate suddenly moved back and sat down. He made a harsh half growl. Holding both hands over his eyes he rolled to his side, his back to the bars. Shelby could see his entire body shaking as the mewling returned.
“What’s wrong with him?” a guard asked.
Shelby felt her own eyes tear. “He’s weeping.”
“Why?”
Shelby now knew what the octahedron had been implanted in his brain for; at least one of its purposes. To block his memory. “Because he remembers. He remembers what happened to his family.”
Her mood dampened—damn, why did I do this—she lowered the juvenile skull back in the basin and replaced the cloth. But it was information that might be useful later, though at the moment she wished like hell she hadn’t put him through this.
Shelby began to leave when she heard the straw rustle. She turned and found the giant gazing at her. “I’m sorry, Goliath.” She backed away but halted when he knuckle-walked back to the bars. He extended a finger between the bars. Shelby glanced down at the skull, only guessing. “I’ll bring your little girl back, I promise.”
She had no idea if he understood but the gentle tone of her words must have calmed him because the huge primate sat back and watched her. She saw where some straw stuck to his moist cheeks.
“Who did this to your family, Goliath?” Shelby asked.
“Dr. Shelby Hollister.”
Shelby met the two men coming from the chairman’s office. If her heart was already heavy after the earlier encounter with Goliath, it just sank further. One man she thought she recognized from the demonstrations—tall, thin, and red goatee. Who else would wear an Animal Pals T-shirt? The other man made her cringe inside. It was Rasheed Ahmen who’d called out her name. The man from Bear Island, Vancouver.
They approached wearing smiles, which she was fairly confident didn’t bode well for Goliath’s situation. For sure she was not in this inner circle.
She kept the introductions curt—she wasn’t in the mood to be pleasant, especially when she watched two more suits enter Reddic’s office. One she recognized as the Center’s chief financial officer. The other she guessed might be the insurance attorney. More biddings of goodwill she was sure. Fucking great. Was this the source of the tech’s “rumors”?
Ahmen held her hand a little longer than she would have preferred but to avoid making an awkward situation more awkward, she allowed him to release first.
“Quite a specimen,” he boasted.
She looked at both men. “You were down to see Goliath?” So these were the two men with Bonds the guard had alluded to. She wondered if the NASA exec was still inside with the chairman.
The APA man, Ralston, said, “Dr. Reddic gave us the grand tour earlier.”
Rasheed continued, “We were hoping you could have been there.”
Definitely out of the loop, she realized ruefully. “I must have missed you. I just came from the holding enclosure.”
Ahmen nodded. “Appears our giant recovered well from the surgery. That episode at the animal hospital was most unfortunate.”
Our giant? She got the sense the collector was gloating. “You know about the surgery?”
“Everything about that ape has been in the news,” Ralston added.
But not about the purpose of the octahedron. Shelby slowly nodded, wondering where this conversation was going. She sensed disappointment at whatever direction it took.
Ahmen continued watching her. “You never returned my calls, Shelby—can I address you as Shelby?”
“Shelby’s fine. And no, I’ve been quite occupied.” She started to apologize and thought WTF.
“How was Alaska? Dr. Reddic tells me you made a second remarkable discovery in the Arctic.”
“I did. An adult Gigantopithecus skeleton.” She began to go into further detail but realized she wanted this conversation over.
Ahmen apparently did not. “So you’re still calling Goliath a Gigantopithecus?”
Shelby glanced impatiently at the closed office doors. What the hell was going on in there? “Still the working taxonomic classification. Presently it’s all we have.”
Ahmen took this in a moment. “You realize, Shelby, we have a common interest.”
Shelby feigned a weak smile. “We do. I heard about your primate collection.”
“You should fly up to my Bear Island estate and see it. I’d wager I have species that even you have not had a chance to observe.”
“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Ahmen.”
“Please call me Rasheed. Is that a yes, you’ll visit Bear Island?”
Choosing not to reply, Shelby motioned to the office. “I really must be getting inside.”
Ahmen persisted. “I’m sure my collection would dwarf anything you have here at the Center. With the exception of Goliath, of course.”
Fuck it. Shelby decided not to mince her words. “Two major differences, Mr. Ahmen. Many of our species housed here are still alive, and two…every specimen here—alive or a fossil—was collected legally.”
She moved past them before either of them could reply.
Ralston accompanied Ahmen to the private limousine waiting on Western Avenue. Both men waved to the protestors, which were less in number than the day before. Ralston took a moment to borrow the bullhorn to say, “Thank you all for keeping our imprisoned giant in mind. We’ll have some breaking news shortly.”
Some shouted questions their way but Ahmen waved them off. Once in the privacy of the limo, he said, “They won’t be around on the day of delivery.
”
It was a statement and Ralston took it as such. “No, I’ve arranged for a midnight transfer. And the protests will be curtailed.”
“I want it smooth and quiet. I’ve paid you to keep it smooth and quiet.”
Ralston gazed out the heavily tinted window. “The stars are aligned. The only remaining question is where.”
Ahmen answered, “Canada.”
Ralston pondered the single-word answer. He knew his benefactor would reveal more when the time came. He said, “You didn’t tell Dr. Hollister.”
Ahmen smiled for the first time since entering the limo. “She’ll find out soon enough,” adding, “If she’s real nice, I might even send her a video of the giant’s end.”
CHAPTER 30
Shelby held the gaze of each person she was introduced to, unable to stem the rising tide of foreboding. Meeting Ahmen in the hall had just been the tip of the iceberg. Hell, she didn’t know what this was going to be about—just that it was going to be far worse than she could have anticipated. It wasn’t just Bonds, the insurance attorney, and the Center’s CFO there, but four of the seven individuals who made up the Center’s Board of Directors also occupied seats at the conference table. And three of these—two women, one man—sat on UCLA’s university board as well. Dammit, she cursed silently.
She obviously was not involved in whatever transpired in the earlier meeting because when she took her seat, the four board members got up and departed, each thanking Shelby for her contribution to the Center’s research.
Once the others’ water glasses were replenished and the door closed, Reddic met her pointed stare. Her boss didn’t look good, she thought; in fact, he appeared downright depressed. Or very stressed. She briefly entertained the thought her position was going to be terminated. She decided to dive in. “I met Rasheed Ahmen and that Animal Pals guy outside in the hall,” she said.
She didn’t miss the exchange of looks. Except the insurance attorney—he seemed engrossed in a manila folder full of papers he’d laid out on the table.
Reddic asked somberly, “Did he tell you?”
“Tell me what?” She glanced at Bonds, who averted his eyes.
The CFO, a man with thick gray hair and a thicker waistline, addressed her. “Dr. Hollister, the Center of Primatology has been put in a real bind—a legal vise—by the most recent acquisition. That escape in Douglas Park was only a tremor compared to the earthquake we are facing now. The mother of that child is suing for emotional distress—”
Shelby’s hands flew up. “I helped save—”
Reddic held up a palm. “Please, Shelby, let him finish.”
Shelby sat down further in her chair. “Go on,” she relented.
The CFO nodded toward the attorney. “You might be able to explain this better than me.”
The lawyer looked up from his stack of papers with vacuous impersonal eyes. He put on a pair of bifocals. “The mother’s suit is small change compared to the filings after the surgery debacle at the Los Angeles Animal Institute. She wants only a cool one point five million.”
Shelby almost burst out, “For saving her kid,” but pursed her lips.
The attorney shuffled some papers. “As you might have heard in the press, the estate of Dr. Sigmund Astor is asking for fifty million over a wrongful death. But that is not entirely accurate—a more recent filing has increased that number to a hundred mil. More filings from the estates of the two security guards killed are asking for a combined twenty million. The veterinarian neurosurgeon hasn’t filed suit yet, but in light of her life-changing injuries, she is expected to seek some recompense; it would be ludicrous for her not to. She may never hold a scalpel again.”
Shelby felt as if a hole had been punched in her gut and all her energy was leaking out onto the carpet. If she could have sunk lower in the chair she would have.
The attorney removed his bifocals and rubbed his eyes. “Dr. Hollister, these numbers don’t reflect the filings from the APA protestors for their injuries, and other bystanders—both physical and emotional distress from witnessing a brutal decapitation. We expect more suits to arise from employees at the animal hospital, not to mention the OSHA involvement from the workers’ compensation stand point. Fines for workplace death, especially from violence, can run in the millions.”
The silence that followed was pervasive. Sure she felt empathy for the human victims, yet oddly, Shelby found herself thinking of Goliath and how he’d cried when he’d touched his dead child’s remains. “He was terrified, he was frightened, he was stuck in a world he didn’t belong in,” she uttered.
“Exactly!” the CFO piped in. “That creature does not belong here.”
Reddic spoke. “Shelby, the news is not all bad.”
Suddenly it dawned on her why Ahmen and Ralston had been out in the hall. “Goliath is no longer ours,” she said resignedly.
The attorney began to respond, but Reddic indicated he would take the lead. “Shelby, first let me say, especially after all the favorable publicity and funding the Center of Primatology has received, this was an extremely difficult decision. Basically it came down to us putting him down, or turning Goliath over to a responsible third party.”
Shelby felt the heat in her face. Putting him down. Euthanize. “You call Ahmen responsible?” she shot back. “You know what he does? You know how he collects his specimens? He’s a poacher, a rich fuckin’ poacher, he’s—”
Reddic quieted her with a raised palm. Any more outbursts and Shelby figured his arm would soon tire. “The military no longer maintains any interest in the primate, neither do NASA or SETI.”
Shelby found Bonds watching her and this time she looked away. Now that Goliath is just an ape…
Reddic continued without missing a beat. “Goliath is too dangerous and too unpredictable. And too big and too strong. Combine that with the primate’s preternatural intelligence, and you have the equation for disaster—and the Center has already rolled snake eyes twice. A third might put us out of business. Our insurance has declared they will no longer provide liability coverage for Goliath after August twenty-eighth. That’s less than ten days.”
Shelby started to speak but Reddic kept right on talking. “No one will insure him, Shelby. No one wants that liability risk. And to complicate matters, we personally are named in the suits. You, me, our veterinarians, techs, everyone, even the university. The Center had to do what’s responsible. For all our employees.”
Shelby found herself getting angry at Goliath and she knew this was misguided. “What about the Arctic Exhibit? Ten acres, all that.”
Reddic folded his hands on the table. “Off the table permanently. Same reason. Liability. Can you imagine if a primate that huge escaped? What kind of damage he could wreak? Also, age was a factor. Goliath is older than we’d originally thought. Even you will agree with this observation. He might have less than a couple years left, then what? The Arctic Exhibit is nothing without the Abominable Snowman.” He paused but when Shelby sat in silence, he continued. “Shelby, the board gave me an option to put Goliath down or work a deal. You realize what zoos do with rogue bull elephants. They are euthanized.”
Shelby had to say something. “Goliath is not a rogue elephant.”
The CFO responded. “My God, Dr. Hollister, that ape killed three people, injured a dozen more. That is going rogue.”
Shelby couldn’t let it end here. “Goliath is more valuable alive than dead.”
“Not according to the plaintiffs’ attorneys and Occupational Health and Safety Board,” the insurance lawyer retorted as he passed a stapled document to Reddic, Bonds, the CFO, and then slid one across the table to her, along with a pen. “Your signature goes on the last page.”
Shelby refused to look at hers. She willed her eyes not to moisten but the effort was fruitless. “I’m telling you something terrible happened to Goliath in that Ice Age valley thousands of years ago, something violent, something vicious. He deserves a
second chance.”
The attorney countered, “Sounds like you’re describing Dr. Astor’s fate. What second chance was he given?”
Before Shelby could get herself in trouble, Reddic said, “The Center’s mission is primate conservation and research, Shelby. It would not have looked good for us to be the triggerman. More so, our reputation could have been irreparably tarnished by ordering Goliath euthanized. And by doing what’s responsible for the corporation—removing ourselves from further risk of unnecessary exposure, our attorneys have argued this will prove legally and financially beneficial in the long run. It will guarantee our continued viability.”
Shelby could only sit there. “You know Ahmen will kill Goliath.”
“Better him than us,” the CFO rejoined. “Let his organization assume the ape’s liability. And public ire if there is any.”
In frustration, Shelby lifted the document. “What’s this?”
The attorney removed his bifocals. “A nondisclosure contract. One of Mr. Ahmen’s demands before putting up the transfer fee is strict privacy. Nothing said here today or later having anything to do with the ape’s final disposition can be revealed to any public agency, news entity, or private social media outlet for a period of five years after the date of the transfer. You’re welcome to read it, have your own attorney look it over, but we will need it signed.”
Shelby watched Reddic remove a pen and scribble his signature. He shrugged and passed it back to the attorney. The chairman had obviously read it over. The other men had no qualms about signing theirs, even Bonds. She wondered if NASA was being sued too. What about the military? “What if I refuse to sign?”
Reddic began to speak, but the attorney interjected. “I’ll handle this one.” Directly to Shelby, he said, “Dr. Hollister, if you refuse to sign, you run the risk of having to hire your own legal defense team. The Center’s insurance will not indemnify an irresponsible party to any litigation.”
Shelby exhaled in exasperation. So now she was being labeled as irresponsible if she didn’t sign. They have me by the proverbial balls. She couldn’t afford to defend herself. Not against this. She heard Reddic saying, “Shelby, don’t risk your entire career over this.”
