The Great Zoo of China

by Matthew Reilly

  ‘—by ripping out their own ears, they made the sonic shields useless—’

  ‘—back-up generators are offline—’

  ‘—what about the domes?—’

  ‘—both electromagnetic domes are fine. They are still in place and working perfectly—’

  A short distance away, CJ saw two of the four visiting Communist Party officials she had seen earlier. Their new hiking outfits were now torn and covered in dirt and grime. They looked furious. Director Chow bowed and scraped before them, trying to placate them, but they appeared to be having none of it.

  With the two Party men was a woman—whose Gucci dress was smeared with blood and mud—and the little girl named Minnie, whose clothes were also dirty.

  They were all quickly ushered into a silver Range Rover which zoomed away, kicking up gravel.

  CJ wondered what had happened to the other Communist Party VIPs and their lady friends. She feared the worst.

  A captain came up to Colonel Bao.

  ‘Sir, we have located and killed eighteen of the dragons that had severed their ears. Fourteen were red-bellied blacks, four were eastern greys.’

  He held up a small tablet computer. It looked like an iPad mini, only one that was encased in a shockproof and waterproof rubber casing.

  CJ caught a fleeting glimpse of its screen. It depicted a digitised map of the zoo similar to the one she had seen in the master control room earlier, complete with moving coloured icons:

  Even though her view of the digital map was brief, CJ could see that the clusters of the dragons around the zoo had moved: the red crosses, for instance, now swarmed all over the administration building. She also saw a very odd arrangement of dragons inside the Nesting Centre: ten dragons, two of each colour, all in a strangely neat row, totally separated from all the other dragons in the zoo. She wondered what that was.

  The captain continued: ‘Eight earless dragons remain unaccounted for. Six are red-bellied black princes, two are red-bellied black kings. We are searching the valley for them now—’

  ‘There are some in the generators and the others are probably underground somewhere, digging,’ a man’s voice said in English and everyone, including CJ, turned to see the bespectacled, lab coat–wearing man from the Birthing Centre.

  ‘What makes you say that, Dr Patrick?’ Colonel Bao said.

  ‘Because digging is what they do, Colonel,’ the bespectacled man, Ben Patrick, replied. ‘Digging into the Earth is how they managed to survive the meteor impact that killed the dinosaurs. They can see in pitch darkness, so they are perfectly comfortable underground. And they’ve been digging all over this zoo for months.’

  ‘If you are so knowledgeable about their behaviour, Dr Patrick,’ Bao snorted, ‘why didn’t you predict this attack?’

  ‘We are dealing with a species of creature never before seen in this age of the world,’ Patrick replied calmly. ‘They are intelligent in a way we have never known. Indeed, theirs is an intelligence that is far more ancient than ours.’

  ‘They are animals,’ the colonel said.

  ‘Their intelligence is just different,’ Patrick said. ‘We underestimate it at our peril.’

  ‘I repeat, they are animals.’

  ‘They may well be, Colonel. But which species is mopping up the blood now?’

  ‘How do you know they’re in the generators?’ the colonel asked.

  ‘Because I saw them break in there. The access door to the generators is halfway down the entry tunnel to the Birthing Centre. I didn’t follow them because at that point, two more attacked the Birthing Centre. I also didn’t follow them in there because, quite frankly, I do not wish to die. Those dragons are probably the reason why your back-up generators are offline: I imagine they thought it was an exit and inadvertently dug through some key cables trying to get out.’

  Colonel Bao snorted again as another captain rushed up to him and said, ‘Sir. The two American journalists have been found in the waste management facility. They are alive. They are being brought here right now.’

  Bao waved his hand. ‘There is no need to bring them here. I doubt our guests want to stay any longer. Their little publicity tour is finished. Have Wolfe and Perry taken to the emergency departure area.’

  While this was being said, the man named Patrick came over to CJ and her group.

  ‘CJ Cameron,’ he said.

  ‘Ben Patrick,’ she replied neutrally. ‘They told me you were here.’

  Dr Benjamin Patrick smiled. He was still amazingly handsome, with matinee-idol good looks: blue eyes, high cheekbones, square jaw. His glasses made him look even sexier.

  His eyes scanned her scars. He hadn’t seen CJ since the incident. ‘I heard about your face,’ he said. ‘Shame.’

  That was classic Ben: CJ couldn’t tell if he meant it was a shame that she’d been hurt or a shame that her prettiness had been lost.

  ‘How’s the vocalisation research going?’ she asked, changing the topic.

  ‘It’s amazing stuff,’ he said. ‘The opportunity of a lifetime. I’ve been here for six years now and the research is off the charts. I have a database of over 300 separate and identifiable vocalisations. These animals are like nothing I have ever seen. They communicate. Every squawk and screech you hear has meaning. They live in strictly hierarchical packs, they have rivalries with other dragons. It is absolutely amazing.’

  ‘Until today,’ CJ said.

  Patrick grimaced. ‘Yes. Until today. But our Chinese friends are a determined lot. To them this will just be seen as a setback, a necessary loss in their march toward their dream of a Great Dragon Zoo.’

  CJ shook her head. ‘You don’t just get over something like this. Sixty-plus people are dead and The New York Times was here to see it. When Wolfe and Perry get back to Hong Kong, this’ll be the biggest news story in the world.’

  ‘Hell, yeah,’ Hamish said.

  Just then, a second silver Range Rover pulled up nearby.

  Out of it stepped Hu Tang. Colonel Bao went directly over to him with Patrick and a pair of captains. A quick discussion was had.

  CJ watched them. As she did so, Greg Johnson sidled up beside her. ‘Wonder what they’re talking about?’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yeah,’ CJ said.

  She kept watching Bao, Hu Tang and Patrick as she said, ‘I’m also wondering about you, Mr Johnson. You’re a cool customer under pressure and a pretty awesome shot for an “embassy aide”. Tell me who you really are.’

  Johnson cracked a wry half-smile. ‘You’re not bad under pressure yourself, Dr Cameron.’

  ‘I’ve had practice with crocodiles that wanted to bite my head off. What about you?’

  ‘I might also have had some practice,’ Johnson said. ‘Although my threats were more . . . human . . . in nature.’

  CJ turned to face him to find him staring evenly back at her, the half-smile still there, his eyes inscrutable.

  Then abruptly Hu was marching toward them.

  ‘Mr Ambassador! Mr Johnson, Dr Cameron and Mr Cameron,’ he said formally. ‘You are all okay, I hope. You are not hurt?’

  ‘We’re okay,’ CJ said.

  ‘Honestly, words escape me,’ Hu said. ‘This is just terrible. I am both embarrassed and distressed at this awful loss of life. I am so sorry you had to witness it. I do hope you will forgive us. As you will no doubt understand, I have much to do, especially over at the administration building where many lives have been lost. If you will accompany Captain Wong here, he will reunite you with Mr Wolfe and Mr Perry and take you all back to Hong Kong. Once again, I am terribly sorry. Our tour, sadly, is over.’

  It was getting dark as CJ’s group was led to a white Great Dragon Zoo of China guest van to be taken home.

  As the others got in the van, CJ went over to Ben Patrick.

  ‘Ben, before I go, I just want to know: what is this little valley for?’

  Patrick snuffed a laugh. ‘It’s for VIPs only, and by that I mean very high net worth and
very high-powered Chinese.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘It’s a hunting area,’ Patrick said. ‘For a small fortune, the lucky customer can hunt dragons. It’s targeted at the high-roller set from Macau and wealthy hunters from America. When the weekend warriors are done, they get to sip Hennessy cognac in the lodge and swap stories.’

  ‘Oh,’ CJ said, and suddenly she understood the Party men in their new hiking gear.

  It hadn’t been hiking gear at all.

  It had been hunting gear.

  She also now understood the black room she had come through earlier, the one that had made her feel like being backstage at a theatre—precisely because it was like being backstage at a theatre. That must have been where the dragons were released into the hunting area. They would be led to the black room from the Birthing Centre and released through the camouflaged door or, she guessed, through other doors that branched off the side-tunnels.

  Unbelievable.

  ‘See you, Ben,’ CJ said.

  ‘Goodbye to you, too, CJ,’ Patrick replied.

  CJ joined the others at the van. It was a brand-new Volkswagen model, nicely appointed, with leather seats and air-conditioning.

  She climbed inside and, exhausted and sweaty, sank back into a cool leather seat.

  The van pulled out and drove down the winding road that led out of the little valley.

  The van emerged from the hunting area and turned left onto the ring road.

  It was almost completely dark now and the ring road was lit by amber streetlights. Storm clouds flitted across the face of the full moon, blotting it out.

  CJ saw the tail-lights of the silver VIP Range Rover up ahead, heading along the northern border of the megavalley and about to enter a tunnel.

  She wondered why the dragons had chosen today to stage their attack. What made this day special?

  The visitors, she thought. The two groups of VIP visitors. The dragons could detect the elevated heartbeat of an anxious animal and today the staff at the zoo would most certainly have been extra anxious. Sensing the heightened levels of nervousness and anxiety in their jailers, the dragons must have seen their opportunity and taken it.

  CJ let it go. What did it matter now anyway?

  She closed her eyes. She was completely drained and now, safe at last, she allowed herself to relax and rock with the gentle motion of the van.

  Then the van swayed unexpectedly and CJ felt herself lean left.

  She opened her eyes.

  They had taken a right turn, off the ring road. The tail-lights of the Range Rover disappeared into the tunnel, continuing on down the ring road.

  That’s odd, CJ thought.

  She knew they couldn’t go back to the main entrance building via the western side of the valley—the tower of the admin building was blocking the ring road there. Which was why, she figured, they were going around the long way, across the northern side of the valley and then down the eastern flank.

  The van began to bounce. Its headlights showed the way ahead: the unlit gravel road that led to the casino hotel.

  ‘I saw a helipad on the casino earlier,’ Ambassador Syme said. ‘Must be taking us there.’

  The van followed the bends of the uneven gravel road before it abruptly turned off it onto an even rougher dirt track and suddenly CJ found herself moving in amongst eight-foot-high reeds and mangroves.

  A distinct feeling of unease shot through her.

  ‘We’re in trouble,’ she whispered to Hamish.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This isn’t the way back.’

  She called to the Chinese captain, Wong, sitting up front with the driver. ‘Excuse me, Captain? Where are we going?’

  ‘Short cut,’ was the curt reply.

  CJ exchanged a meaningful look with Hamish.

  ‘Stay sharp,’ she said.

  ‘Understood,’ Hamish said.

  It was now totally dark outside, the only light the bouncing beams of the van’s headlights.

  The van came to a sharp halt and everyone was thrown slightly forward.

  Then the side door was flung open from the outside and CJ found herself staring down the barrel of an assault rifle held by a blank-eyed Chinese Army soldier. A second soldier, similarly armed, covered the others.

  ‘Get out of the vehicle with your hands up,’ Captain Wong spat. ‘Your tour is officially at an end.’

  Naturally, the US Ambassador to China wasn’t impressed to find a gun pointed at his face.

  ‘What in God’s name do you people think you’re doing!’ Ambassador Syme snapped.

  ‘Just get out of the van,’ the captain said.

  Syme and Johnson stepped out of the van with their hands raised. CJ and Hamish followed, also with their hands held high. One of the soldiers snatched Hamish’s camera from him.

  CJ took in her surroundings.

  A high wall of reeds surrounded the group. The foul stench of the swamp pervaded the air. The gentle lapping of water could be heard in the darkness, as well as grunting sounds that CJ knew: the vocalisations of saltwater crocodiles.

  They were in the swamp to the west of the casino hotel, the saltwater swamp that adjoined the freshwater lake.

  A wooden walkway disappeared into the wall of reeds ahead of her. It was elevated about two feet above the waterline. It was a tourist boardwalk, designed to allow visitors to have a pleasant stroll above the swamp.

  The only light came from the van’s headlights. Above the wall of reeds, CJ could see the top of Dragon Mountain. Floodlights illuminated it and the revolving restaurant at its peak glowed softly.

  Syme and Johnson were pushed down the walkway; CJ was shoved after them, Hamish by her side. They were all covered by the three Chinese Army men: the captain and the two infantrymen. The two infantrymen brandished Type 56 rifles—the Chinese clone of the AK-47—and wore gun belts across their chests with extra ammo clips and grenades on them.

  As she walked, CJ noticed one, then two, then three saltwater crocodiles stalking them in the brackish water beside the elevated walkway, moving parallel to them.

  The crocs know what’s about to happen, she thought.

  The Chinese have done this before.

  Then suddenly she heard a voice up ahead, a voice she knew: that of Aaron Perry.

  ‘Now, wait, wait, please, just wait a second, I’m sure we can—’ Perry was saying quickly, desperately.

  CJ rounded a corner and saw Perry and Seymour Wolfe kneeling further down the walkway. A Chinese soldier stood with a pistol aimed directly at Perry’s face while another soldier covered Wolfe.

  Blam!

  The first soldier fired, blowing Perry’s brains out, and the young blogger’s body collapsed, flopping to the walkway before toppling off the edge and splashing into the swampwater.

  Almost immediately, a big crocodile rushed in, snatched the corpse and took it roughly away.

  CJ swallowed hard, horrified. This was what Colonel Bao had meant when he’d said that Wolfe and Perry should be taken to the ‘emergency departure area’. It was code for this place of execution.

  ‘Oh, this is fucked up,’ Hamish said loudly. ‘I do not want to die this way.’

  The Chinese infantryman behind him jabbed Hamish with his rifle and he kept walking.

  ‘We’ve seen too much,’ CJ said. ‘We can’t be allowed to leave this place alive. And there can’t be any evidence that we were ever here, either.’

  Walking last of all, the Chinese captain must have heard her. ‘Dr Cameron is correct. This zoo is the future of China. Its existence cannot be tarnished by negative reports in the Western media. No-one can know what has happened here today and no-one will. All witnesses must be eliminated. Minister Hu was very specific. He ordered me to reunite you with Mr Wolfe and Mr Perry, and that is exactly what I will do.’

  CJ recalled Ben Patrick’s words from before: ‘To them this will just be seen as a setback, a necessary loss in their march toward their dream
of a Great Dragon Zoo.’

  ‘Now, listen here!’ Syme still seemed to think he had some influence. He turned as he walked. ‘I am the Ambassador to China from the United States of America! You cannot simply explain away my disappearance.’

  ‘But of course we can,’ Captain Wong said calmly. ‘Accidents happen all the time, Mr Ambassador. Car accidents, small plane crashes, hotel room drug overdoses.’

  CJ turned. ‘Bill Lynch. He died in a light aircraft crash in China. It was you—’

  Wong smiled. ‘Sadly, Mr Lynch witnessed a similar incident. Fewer deaths but ugly ones nonetheless.’

  There came a scuffling sound from behind them, followed by a shrill male voice saying, ‘Don’t touch me, you fucking ignorant brute!’

  Go-Go was pushed into view by a lone Chinese private.

  ‘Go-Go . . .’ CJ said as their eyes met.

  ‘CJ!’ Go-Go said, ‘Some dickwad told Colonel Bao that you and I knew each other, so the good colonel said I had to die with you. Couldn’t trust me to stay quiet. And you know what’—Go-Go spat at his guard—‘the dirty motherfucker was right! I so would’ve told.’

  ‘Thanks, Go-Go,’ CJ said.

  But her mind was racing. The Chinese were about to kill them all and feed their bodies to the crocs. She had to do something fast.

  She and Hamish were still walking side-by-side, CJ on the right, Hamish on the left, with the two rifle-bearing Chinese infantrymen behind them. Johnson and Syme were a few metres ahead of them.

  ‘Hamish,’ she whispered. ‘You still got your fanny pack?’

  ‘Yeah? Why?’

  ‘On the count of three, I want you to pull out your lighter, light it, and hold it out in your right hand at chest height.’

  ‘Why—’

  ‘Just do it and be ready to duck, okay? On three. One . . . two . . . three . . . Go!’

  Hamish did as he was told, even though he didn’t know why. Quick as a flash, he dipped his hand into his fanny pack, extracted his Great Dragon Zoo of China Zippo lighter and held it out at chest height to the right of his body, flicking the cartwheel, sparking it—

  —at exactly the same time as CJ spun on the spot and, moving like a Wild West gunslinger, drew a small can from her own fanny pack, aimed it at the two Chinese infantrymen behind her and fired it.