As time wore on, he considered flagging down any car he saw.
He encountered an intersection and then immediately another one.
Here finally was an obvious landmark, but he had left his map in his pack! He sized up the dim glow of the retreating sun and continued south toward eventual civilization.
Elden Tegg was on his way to the farm to check his patient when he first spotted the boot prints coming down his road. These tracks stretched in a length and stride that indicated a hard run. His heart began to beat frantically. His cabin and kennel were at the end of this dirt track, nothing else. Nothing else! Fresh tracks at that, he realized.
Maybeck's warning of the night before echoed in his head. "The police!"
He drove quickly, skidding to a stop as he reached his property.
The boot tracks led directly from the kennel!
For a moment he found it hard to catch his breath-him, Dr. Calm!
He leapt from the car, following the prints like a trapper, his fingers groping for his keys. Self-control was all-important. His strength. He settled himself and observed the scene before him.
Whoever it was had stopped in front of the kennel door, but there was only the one set of tracks: He he hadn't made it inside. Tegg lost the prints in or s the grass around the side of the structure. His mind through a dozen possibilities, but he didn't race like where any of them led: back to those tracks.
He unlocked the door, hurried inside and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his captive in her cage, locked up tight. Bewildered, she didn't utter a word before he left and locked the structure again.
How old were these tracks? Minutes? Hours? He had not seen anyone on the road, but there were dozens of roads out here. Was he too late? Had the intruder taken a different road than he?
He jumped back into the Trooper and headed down the road as fast as the car would safely take him.
He followed the tracks on the edge of the road like a bloodhound.
At the end of the lane they turned right. So did Tegg.. These boot prints dragged on for what seemed like miles, the distance between each print narrowing and after a while indicating the hiker was walking. Good, Tegg thought, walking is slower. He was still extremely nervous, once nearly foreign condition for him, but one that was beginning to seem familiar. He took long, deep breaths and calmed himself.
He reached the double-triangle intersection, where the aqueduct crossed the South Fork, and saw at once why he had not passed the hiker on the way in: He had followed the roads due south, but had taken the fork that eventually wound its way east to the reservoir. There was a lot of open road out here. Tegg drove faster, worried now. There might be people at the reservoir. He didn't want this hiker reaching anyone.
He rounded a long, sweeping corner. A hundred yards ahead of him, he spotted the hiker.
As the hiker heard the vehicle, he-a black man-turned and waved his arms frantically. Tegg felt the blood pounding in his ears. He slowed the vehicle and rolled down his window. The hiker was young and handsome, with anxious eyes. "Please," the young man pleaded. "I need a ride. I need some help."
"Help? Are you in trouble?"
"Please!" Tegg said, "Hop in," releasing the car's power door lock, wondering how next to handle this. As the boy climbed in, Tegg felt charged with a keen sense of power. He couldn't weaken.
He couldn't allow his fear to show. He asked his passenger to buckle up. He took control. "Where are we?" the young man asked. "Are you lost?"
"Among other things. My car's out here somewhere."
"Engine trouble?"
"No." The boy hesitated. He asked carefully, "Are you from around here?"
Tegg considered this briefly. A test. "No," he answered. "I have some work out at the reservoir." He pointed. "The reservoir is this direction?"
"'Yes, it is."
"Stop the car!"
Tegg slowed. "Problems?"
"I have to go the other way." He shook his head.
"Oh, man, did I ever fuck up."
Tegg slowed the car to a crawl. "Can I help?"
"Could you?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly feel right about abandoning you out here. What exactly is the problem?"
Hysterical, Michael Washington ranted and raved about being lost, about dogs, a woman's voice, and needing help. Something linking sexual perverts to backpackers. "Calm down a minute," Tegg said, trying to convince himself as much as his passenger. He pulled to the side of the road. Stopping the car won the boy's full attention. Little people were so predictable. "I'm telling you, there's a woman up there who needs help!"
"You saw her? " Tegg wondered if his heart could endure this. The wheel was slippery from the sweat on his palms. He let go of the wheel.
An expression of doubt crossed the young man's face. It dissipated quickly as he reminded himself emphatically, "The barn was locked."
"A barn?"
"More like a small hangar. A Quonset hut. There were dogs."
"A kennel?"
"It was a woman, I'm telling you."
Tegg explained, "Well, we can be at the Sheriff's in about thirty minutes. Or we could call." He pointed to his cellular phone. "I can get a clear signal a few miles down the road. But you better have your story straight."
"Meaning?"
"Your name?"
"Michael."
"Michael, have you ever heard a cat at night? Hmm?
Have you ever heard that peculiar screaming of a cat during fornication and thought you heard a woman?" Now Tegg's hitchhiker looked puzzled. "Don't get me wrong-Im not telling you what you heard. I wasn't there. You're the one who'll explain it to the Sheriff, but you mentioned dogs and that made me think of cats and how much they can sound like a woman. A woman screaming. Cats fornicating. A mountain lion can sound that way. What was it you said you heard?"
His passenger didn't answer at first. Then he stated emphatically, "I heard a woman scream."
Tegg added, "I don't know how you feel about involving the cops, but they're not my favorite people. Were you on private property? Was that property posted? Did you have the owner's permission to be there? They ask you things like that. Don't forget that."
"I know that. I also know what I heard."
"And you're prepared to deal with them? Fine." Tegg went through the motions of pretending to engage the car. "You ask me, cops are stupid. They're little people."
"What choice is there? I have to do something." He added, "And what about those dogs?"
Tegg nodded. The important thing was to remain in control, to give this person the sense that he, Tegg, had all the answers, even though he was making this up on the fly. The key to such manipulation was in allowing the other person to believe that all the good ideas were his. To fill in gaps that were never left in the first place. For so many animals in the wild, the key to survival, the way they snared their prey, was through convincing camouflage. Tegg knew his most effective camouflage was to appear to be this man's friend. How quickly we place our trust in those we like. And Tegg could be quite likable when he tried. "Listen, if you're saying I should go back there with you," Tegg suggested, "I suppose that makes some good sense. It's a good idea. The police are certainly more likely to believe the two of us, aren't they? Of course they are!" He didn't wait for an acknowledgment; he had the boy right where he wanted him: confused. No one likes to disclaim authorship of a good idea. He turned the car around. He would have to pretend he didn't know the way.
It was strange how long the ride seemed to take. In reality it was only a, few minutes, a couple of miles. For Elden Tegg, attempting to work this out in his head, those minutes passed slowly. Another complication. This heart harvest had brought him some bad luck, but he wasn't going to bail out. Not with Wong Kei's money in hand. Not with a donor all lined up. You seized a problem by the throat and you squeezed until it died. It was as simple as that. Problems left breathing came back to life. You killed them the first time, or you suffered the consequence.
> Michael directed Tegg through the turns that lead Tegg onto his own property. Tegg remarked convincingly, "I've been coming up these country roads for years. Never knew this place existed." "Me either," Michael said. "You're on foot, are you?" Tegg asked, needing as much information as possible. His hope was to discourage this person, to convince him he had heard wrong, send him on his way. But if this failed, what then? Where was a person like Maybeck when you needed him the most? "Hiking." "You're a long way from anywhere." He added, "I was under the impression this is mostly private land out here." It was all privately leased land now-timberland owned by paper companies. The hiker had been trespassing-probably knowingly and this seemed useful ammunition. You preyed on a person's vulnerabilities. It was always the weakest link that broke first.
When his passenger failed to respond, Tegg said, "The thing of it is, the police may wonder what you were doing up here in the first place. Especially if it turns out to be a wild goose chase-a couple of cats fornicating. You say you were hiking? Are there trails up here?"
"There's an old railroad grade," the young black man snapped defensively. "I don't care what the police say!" Tegg knew all about the old railroad grade, about the Nature Conservancy's attempts to purchase much of this land. He remembered the tree spiking. The radicals who chained themselves to the trees.
He glanced over at his passenger, who seemed so righteous, so determined. Tegg rolled down his window and fished for air. What next? He thought of a possible way out. "We won't have any trouble with those dogs you mentioned," he said, once again getting the other's attention. "At least we shouldn't. Hmm? Did I tell you I'm a veterinarian?" There it was, the biggest risk to take, but if offered as an asset he hoped it might be accepted as such. "No shit?" the young man asked. "The rangers keep a couple horses out here," Tegg lied convincingly. "Out at the reservoir," he added, keeping his story straight. He glanced over at his passenger-was that relief he saw? He explained quickly. "I have my kit in the back. If the dogs give us any trouble we'll be fine."
"It's just up here," his passenger informed him. "Did you speak to anyone in the house?" Tegg asked as they rounded the bend in the road that revealed the cabin. He felt in more control now, though his adrenaline was still pumping. He felt slightly giddy with anticipation. "Are you kidding? I mean, what if someone is in the house? What if there is a woman locked up in that hangar?"
"There isn't," Tegg said, asserting some authority. "There are some strange people back in these woods."
"I know that."
"I mean really strange."
Tegg pulled the Isuzu to a stop. The dogs barked ferociously.
With one eye on the cabin Michael stated, "Leave it running. If they're armed … if there is someone here, and they turn out to be armed, we should be prepared to leave in a hurry."
"Agreed." They both climbed out. Tegg felt suddenly enlightened-what a perfect idea. "You've given me an idea. I just happen to have something that might help us." Feeling stronger now-himself again-he returned to the car, opened the back door, and rummaged in his veterinary supplies.
One thing was for certain: If he made it through this, a few things were going to change. He would leave Felix uncaged, free to patrol the aisle. Free to attack if a stranger opened the door. And he would muzzle the woman. The Bitch. No more screaming. "This ought to help us," he said, showing it to Michael Washington. "A gun?"
"A dart pistol. Armed with something called Ketamine. Quite effective, I assure you. Now, let's have a listen." He motioned the young man over to the structure. "Over here. I heard her over here," Michael said, indicating the north side of the structure. "We won't hear anything with this barking," Tegg said. "Maybe if we just sit here," Michael Washington said, "they'll calm down." He seemed nervous about the possibility of somone coming from the cabin. He checked it, continually. "I haven't got all day, young man. Hmm?"
"If we could get a look inside."
"It's locked up tight.
We've already trespassed. You don't want to add breaking and entering to that, do you? The police treat all crime the same, you know. I for one want nothing to do with breaking any more laws." Tegg felt a strange lightheadedness. The air seemed crystal clear. He knew what had to be done. He checked the dart gun.
Once again Tegg attempted to discourage him. "I for one have other things to do. What about you? I thought you said you were lost. Won't this delay of yours be noticed?" He tested, "Are you with anyone else?"
"me? No. But I understand what you're saying. We can't wait around here forever. Maybe it was just a cat."
The dogs quieted. Tegg lifted his hand like a preacher and they waited in silence as the last of the barking stopped completely. It surprised him they should stop so soon; sometimes they went on for hours. "Nothing," he whispered.
Michael stepped toward the building. He raised his arm, preparing to bang on the wall! "Without actually breaking inside," Tegg added, stopping the man, "there's not much more to be done. We're sure as hell not going to break that lock." Tegg's finger slipped onto the trigger. Despite the isolation, Tegg had no desire to do this out in the open. He had made a similar mistake once before in his life, and he was not prone to repeating mistakes. "Helllppp!" came the distinctive cry of a woman's voice from inside. It was quickly buried in barking, but there was no mistaking it.
The hiker exploded into a frenzy. "What did I tell you?" He ran for the door.
The pistol was no good for moving targets; Tegg was no marksman.
He hurried after him. Above all, he wanted them both inside before he used the dart gun. It would take anywhere from thirty seconds to several minutes for the Ketamine to take effect. He needed the man contained for this period, not running wild. Shoot him inside the kennel, then get out quickly and lock the door until the drug took effect.
in a calm, almost serene way, he examined his options. What was left? There could be no trusting this man. The threat was too great. Even if Tegg were to move the woman, his research laboratory was here in the basement of the cabin. Could he give it all up on account of one lost hiker? Problems tended to breed like rabbits. Solutions required quick decisions. "Something has just occurred to me. What about a hidden key? A spare key for this shed? People always hide a spare. I certainly do. it shouldn't be too hard to find." Tegg said this as he fingered the appropriate key in his pocket. "You're right!"
"All we have to do is think like him. Hmm? Where would you hide a spare key? I'll take this side, you take that."
it took Tegg only a few seconds to separate the key from his key chain, although he had to set the dart gun down to do so. He turned over a rock so that it would look as if he had found it there. Then he announced loudly, "I've found it!"
The man named Michael came running. Tegg retrieved the dart gun and led the boy to the door. He inserted the key and turned. The padlock snapped open. "You first," Tegg said. "This was your idea." He added, "I'll back you up," and displayed the loaded dart gun.
The door swung open. They were greeted with a penetrating darkness, and foul, bitter odors. The dogs barked wildly. Michael Washington checked silently with Elden Tegg. Encouraged by him, he began a slow, tentative walk down the darkened aisle. The white teeth of the dogs, bared and snarling, challenged him at every step. The shock collars sang with warnings, and the dogs cried with pain as they threw themselves against the chain link walls of their cages.
Elden Tegg, dart gun in hand, followed a few steps behind. With each cage Tegg passed, the dog inside went silent. Michael Washington took no notice, made no connection, his attention instead riveted on the inhabitant of the cage up ahead on the left. On the bare back and buttocks of the woman crouched into the far corner.
She glanced over her shoulder briefly, her arms tucked tightly, covering her breasts, looking first at Michael Washington, then at Elden Tegg. She hid her face. "I was right!" Michael Washington proclaimed triumphantly, turning toward Tegg. "But you'll soon wish you hadn't been," replied Elden Tegg, who was waiting seve
ral feet away, dart gun raised. He squeezed the trigger. The gun went off with a crack. Tegg had never fired a dart gun at a human. He had hesitated an instant too long. A shocked and stunned Michael Washington reached down and pulled the dart free.
Eyes filled with rage, he charged Tegg, who would be no match for the younger man.
The dogs' barking was deafening! Te's mind worked furiously: the shovel! Leaning against the near wall, it offered possibility. He lunged toward the wall, jumping left toward the shovel as his charger misjudged his intentions and crashed into the door, slamming it shut. A drugged Michael Washington got out of his own way then and managed to crack the door open as Tegg seized the shovel and swung it in a long, unforgiving arc toward the other man's head. The shovel dropped quickly, only grazing the black man's arm. Washington caught hold of the shovel, and hand-over-hand drew Tegg closer-both of them struggling for possession. Tegg saw the man's pupils then, and he let go of the shovel, surprising Michael Washington, who staggered back, shovel in hand. Tegg witnessed the first major seizure in the man, a ripple of muscle contraction that ran from his feet to his shoulders.
Michael Washington fought it. With great difficulty, he managed to move one heavy step forward. Fear belied his intentions.
Tegg watched, catching his breath. He smiled. "There's no use fighting it now," he said. Washington's entire body tensed as a second contraction hit him. He collapsed. Tegg stood over him, watching. Studying. He had never seen such a severe reaction to Ketamine. As a doctor, he found it fascinating. In higher doses, it was lethal." Oh, no … " the drugged man groaned. "Oh, yes," answered Elden Tegg, another smile forming on his lips.
Boldt was driving his Toyota, Daphne riding with him. He had been warned that it might be days or even weeks until he could draw a vehicle from the pool. He didn't have an office cubicle yet, either. In many ways he remained the outsider, his return to the department more technical than actual.
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