15
Nadean was taken to emergency care just to be certain she was okay. Geoff was questioned on site before he was released. He made sure to seek out Shaun Merriman and thank him. Shaun laughed when Geoff admitted that the animal corpse was one of Aurora Fontaine's show chickens doctored up to look like a little dinosaur.
"Up close you can see it's fake," he told Geoff.
"I was hoping they wouldn't examine it too closely."
"Was the original animal all black like that?"
Ayam Cemanis were unique in that they not only possessed all black feathers, but also black beaks and black skin. Geoff left a few long tail feathers when he'd plucked it, using white glue and a paint brush from Nadean's art supplies to mimic skin texture. A few stitches to bind the feathers together helped give it the appearance of a long, stiff tail. The toes from the second bird had helped him create a set of hand-like claws for it, a razor had removed the comb, and he'd reshaped the beak with a file, stitching it shut so that the lack of teeth wasn't immediately noticeable. "It was kind of a sooty charcoal color with light silvery grey along its sides and some brown on the thighs, but it darkened around the orifices to a soft black after it died."
"What did you color it with?"
"Little white pepper and some cinnamon," he admitted.
"Be ready for the pot if it didn't stink so bad."
Geoff nodded, grinning, still having trouble believing he had pulled the switch off.
Both suspects were apprehended and their vehicle impounded. Geoff had borrowed a knife to free his sister from her bonds.
"Y'know, your buddy bonded out," Officer Merriman told him.
"He's a flight risk."
"I figured, but you can't always convince a judge of that. Any idea where he'll go?"
"Sorry," said Geoff, "I have no idea."
"Idiots," the young policeman said, shaking his head. "All this over some stupid lizard someone's trying to pass off as a dinosaur."
"Yeah," McKenna chuckled lightly. "They could've just used a plucked chicken."
He later drove to the hospital to pick up Nadean. She had been questioned while there and handed a card in case she had any further need of the police. They told her she'd likely be asked to testify, but to rest up in the meantime. She accepted a Valium when it was offered and asked for a snack. Geoff took her to White Castle and bought her a paper sack of little burgers and a soda. She was wound up enough to remain alert on the ride home, but the sedative had clearly slowed her reflexes.
"The police were already there the entire time?"
"When I told Shaun what was happening, we came up with a plan. All I had to do was convince them to meet me at the pig farm, but I had no idea they would get there first."
"What if they had refused?"
"Then I was supposed to call Shaun back and tell him the new location. It would ideally be someplace where they could conceal themselves, someplace with no people around, and a place where it would be easy to trap anyone in a vehicle on the property."
"Brit's gone?"
"Yeah," Geoff told her. "Probably won't be back, either."
"I'm glad you called the cops on him. Scumbag."
"Wrecked my Jeep."
"Oh, no," she said through a yawn. "Totaled?"
"I think I can get it fixed."
"I'm sorry."
He said, "No one needs to know about this, right?"
She said, "Friend of yours came by the house, stole your car. Got in an accident."
"We don't want Mom to know."
"Go with me to court," she said, wiping at her watery eyes. "Do I need a lawyer?"
"No," he told her. "I have a feeling this will all be hushed up before it gets that far anyway."
"Okay," she said, nestling back against the seat. "Thank you, Geoff."
"You're my sister," he replied.
The kitchen was a mess, but he walked her past it to the stairs, hitting the lights as they went. He helped her upstairs, and then waited for her when she insisted on visiting the restroom. When she finally emerged he helped her to her room and pulled the door closed so she wouldn't hear him cleaning up downstairs.
"Geoff?" He snapped his head upward as he cleared the last step and saw a man seated in the living room, casually staring his way, enjoying an oversized soft pretzel from the bag Mrs. Merriman had given him. Freezing in place, his heart raced while he considered the objects nearest him that could be used as a weapon if necessary. "I heard you performed a necropsy."
Eyes narrowing, he relaxed his stance, cold with perspiration as his eyes sought familiarity in the other man's features. "What do you want?" He kept his tone soft so as not to disturb Nadean.
"Our mutual acquaintance was supposed to deliver a package to us."
The accent was Australian. McKenna had last seen the same guy at an airport in Montana when he'd traded him a yellow leather rucksack containing a fossilized uniceras horn for an identical bag full of banded bricks of bills. "It's gone," he said, allowing himself to relax a tad further. He'd never learned the man's name, but he didn't think he posed a threat of any kind.
"But, you took samples, didn't you?" The large, athletically built man leaned forward in the chair and popped the last bit of pretzel into his mouth.
He hadn't mentioned that to Brit or anyone else. "So, it's real, then? A genuine, resurrected dinosaur?"
"It was. Our intelligence tells us there are more…and still more to come."
"But, how were they completing the gene sequence if-"
Spreading his hands and shaking his head, the man said, "My talent is acquisitions, Mr. McKenna, not science."
"Then what makes you think I kept samples?"
"The same reason you nearly absconded with part of a rare, extinct animal fossil. You have a curious mind."
Geoff eyed him skeptically. "Do you know what a mistake this is? To try and recreate animals that haven't been seen in millions of years?"
The visitor stood and casually smoothed his pant legs down. "Not my concern. How much do you want for the samples, Geoff?"
"I don't want anything," he mumbled, then, "Brit wrecked my Jeep."
"So buy a new one."
"You bailed him out, didn't you?"
"We'll make certain he pays us back for that. I suppose you froze the samples?"
Calm and steady as he was, clean-cut and friendly enough, Geoff still didn't trust the man at all. He nodded begrudgingly and left him, heading through the kitchen toward the garage. He paused at the back door. The man finally emerged from the living room and took a leisurely gaze at the kitchen table. "Christmas dinner?"
McKenna ignored him. He led the man into the garage, hit the lights, and then pried the lid up on the chest freezer. Reaching within, he plucked out a parcel tied in waxed paper with his name printed neatly on it in black ink. "What are you going to do with them?"
"I just do as I'm told," the man answered. "Just parchment paper?"
"Test tubes with stoppers," he answered.
"Could I trouble you for some ice?"
Geoff led him back into the house and filled a Tupperware container with ice from the freezer, nestling the package within. "Anything else?"
"Merry Christmas," the man told him with a smile, then headed out the back door.
Geoff waited a moment before locking it behind him. He heard a motor growl to life, and then a motorcycle sped from behind the garage, the rider's silhouette made bulky by a backpack.
"Please say it's over," Geoff whispered with his forehead against the backdoor windowpane. He found a Coke in the refrigerator and drank from the bottle. In his haste he had crammed the remains of the spare chicken onto a shelf beside a head of lettuce. He looked at the kitchen table and sighed heavily, then moved to the radio and tuned in some rock 'n roll, leaving the volume low while he cleaned, discarded items, and put things away.
He considered the idea of an island populated with cloned dinosaurs. They'd have to ship in tons of fresh meat for the carnivores—especially if they succeeded in creating anything of size. A tyrannosaur seemed unlikely since the animal was known from only a couple of incomplete fossils. Would they find a means to keep the animals separate or just let them roam free? Flying and aquatic dinosaurs would be out of the question to avoid any getting loose in a populated area. They would require a handful of specialized veterinarians…who would be shooting in the dark with most of their attempts at diagnosis. If the creatures bred, would they sell off the young? He cringed, worrying which idiots might buy them. There was no way they could advertise the beasts as authentic unless completed DNA strands were pulled. What would the lifespans be? An animal the size of an Apatosaurus or Albertosaurus likely took decades to achieve adult size. Would the island be open to visitors, or would they only allow a select few to document the results and share them with the world?
What plants would the herbivores eat? Would insectivores find anything suitable for them at all? How would they know when the animal's natural lifespan was ending? How could they tranquilize or hold one for veterinary care? Were they being grown inside test tubes or injected into host animals for incubation? McKenna had always wondered if the world reeked of ammonia-rich dung back then when the fresh piles of some species must have been massive. What beneficial gut fauna or other sorts of mites and such were beneficial to dinosaur survival? Was there anything that existed today that could wipe them out easily? Besides poor diet. How long had Sterling been on the run with the little animal, feeding it hot dogs? Could it process drinking water enhanced with chlorine or fluoride? Had it required unfiltered sunlight like many reptiles of today? What sort of temperatures were they best suited for? Humidity? Would they even be able to adapt to long periods of breathing modern, polluted air?
He grew drowsy as he worked, surprised by how quickly his energy flagged, no doubt sapped by the day's activities. Eyelids drooping, head lolling, he finally turned off the radio and hit the lights to shuffle through the living room on his way to the stairs. He hesitated before ascending, taking a last look at the room, half expecting to see someone else had paid them a visit unexpectedly. He found himself staring at the chair the Aussie had occupied until his weary brain finally identified the anomaly before him as a paper shopping bag.
It was small and plain with a twisted paper handle like something used to carry something one had purchased from a boutique. Closing his eyes and exhaling audibly, he trudged over to it and stared at it for a moment before lifting it and holding the handles apart so he could see what was inside.
"Aw, fer cryin' out loud!" he groaned, groping through the banded bills and discovering they were in large denominations. He carried the bag toward the stairs and ascended, grumbling, "Ho, ho, ho."