Fatalis

Chapter Sixty-Nine

The Chinook landed at Fire Station 108 on the top of Coldwater Canyon, then immediately took off to help with the search. Meanwhile, Grand and Gearhart were driven by a Los Angeles Police Department patrol car down the road toward Sunset Boulevard and the site of the massacre. The driver maneuvered through a crowd of TV and print reporters who were clustered at the edge of the driveway behind police guards and yellow crime-scene tape. It did not escape Grand, the irony of being taken inside the one time he really wanted to be outside, searching for evidence of where the cats had gone.

Like the Juncal campsite, the hedged-in estate was spotted with large patches of blood-drenched grass. All the spots were marked by stakes with red flags. The bodies had obviously drained of blood where they fell; holes from nine-inch teeth would have caused that to happen very quickly. That was obviously the reason there was never a trail of blood to follow. Though it was a savage panorama, the absence of bodies made it possible to concentrate on the predators and not the prey. Grand wondered if the cats always brought kills back to their caves. He couldn't imagine that they were challenged by other predators. Perhaps they brought the food back to share with older cats or cats that had unsuccessful hunts in the colder times. If so, it suggested a level of socialization far greater than modern cats possessed. He had to study these creatures at greater length.

There were also the remains of roasts in the open fire pits, though the food was untouched. That didn't surprise him. Most animals in the wild did not eat cooked meat.

Lieutenant Mindar had arrived minutes before. He did not look happy as he greeted the two men. He took a moment to introduce them to young, blond LAPD commander Heeger, who was in charge of the police side of the investigation. Heeger was standing by the rear gate and was on the radio, talking to his field commanders. As Mindar walked Grand and Gearhart toward the pool, he informed them that Chief of Police Gus Mailer was conferring about the next course of action with Mayor Greenburg and with Deputy Chief Janet Dumaman of Beverly Hills Operations and Deputy Chief Kurt Maser of Wilshire Operations, which included the area around La Brea.

"I was afraid of that," Sheriff Gearhart said. "They've got the timid leading the incompetent."

"What does that mean?" Grand asked.

"It means that for now, Professor, the sheriff and myself are on the sidelines," Mindar told him. "The Los Angeles city charter stipulates that the mayor has to declare a level-one state of emergency before the governor can order the National Guard to run security and logistics and also authorize law officers from other counties to become involved in an operation."

"What will change their minds?"

"I don't know," Mindar said. "The chief of police is tight with the mayor. He's apparently convinced him that we should make a stand here in the hills, stop whatever is out there before it reaches downtown."

"It didn't work in Santa Barbara but let's try it again here," Gearhart said. "Show Gearhart how it's done. The bastards. That's the police chief's fuck-you to me."

"Not entirely," Mindar said. "The chief is also concerned that if we move in prematurely with our trucks and hardware, it could cause panic worse than the actual attack. Cars jamming the freeways, end-of-the-world parties, looting-"

"Are they at least evacuating people from the area around the tar pits?" Grand asked.

"Just from the Page Museum itself," Mindar said.

"That's not good enough-"

"They feel that if there is an attack in the area, night staff, cleaners, and security personnel in surrounding buildings are probably safer being inside than out," Mindar said.

"They're wrong. Don't they realize these cats are used to moving through tunnels?"

"Actually, it's worse than that," Mindar said. "They also won't shut down Wilshire Boulevard without a damn good reason."

"Isn't this reason enough?" Grand asked, sweeping an arm toward the blood-stained yard.

"Frankly, Professor, part of the problem-a big part-is that the head scientists at the Page Museum and USC don't believe there are saber-tooth tigers roaming the hills," Mindar added. "They aren't signing on to your idea that their destination is the tar pits."

"This is unbelievable," Grand said. "You've got five specimens up on Monte Arido!"

"Five specimens that only you and Hannah Hughes think are saber-tooths," Gearhart pointed out. "I still think they could be mutations, maybe lab hybrids or bad clones running around out there."

"They're not. I saw where they came from, where they were frozen."

"In any case, a paleontologist from UCLA is en route to examine the specimens," Mindar said.

"That's an hour or more, wasted. What about transmitting video?"

"We can't," Mindar said. "Our uplink signal could be picked off. In fact, as soon as news choppers started snooping around we had to tarp the tigers over. The governor and his advisors don't want those images getting on the news. Until there's a positive ID the police want to remain open to the possibility that they're escaped tigers."

"Escaped from where?" Grand said.

"There are a number of licensed, private owners throughout counties all the way up to Frisco," Gearhart said. "Big cats are the chic thing to own. Kitties of the rich and famous."

Grand couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"If it's any consolation, Professor," Mindar said, "Police Chief Mailer has taken the precaution of moving several barrels of tar to the site, in case they okay your plan."

"I hope there's time for all this caution," Grand said.

"For once, we agree on something," Gearhart pointed out. "Welcome to why I run my town the way I do."

Grand ignored him. "Lieutenant, do you have any idea how many people were carried off?"

"According to the guest list at the front gate there were eighteen people here when the cats struck," Mindar said. "The guest who found the massacre didn't see how many animals there were, and he only caught a glimpse of a few of them as they moved through the hills carrying a body each."

It would have taken most if not all of the rest of the pride to kill and then make off with twenty people. Obviously, the cats were staying together for the rest of their journey. Some of the cats would have had to make two trips, so wherever they came from couldn't be far away.

Grand looked out at the hills. He saw a few flashlights bobbing beyond the top of the hedges. "I've got to get out there and try to find out which way the cats might have gone."

"We've already got a small army out there looking for blood, footprints, pipes, large earthen openings of any kind," Mindar said.

"I know. I'd like to go anyway."

Mindar looked at Gearhart. The sheriff nodded.

"All right," Mindar said. "But we've got to do this through channels. Let me get an okay from Commander Heeger."

The lieutenant jogged over to Heeger and the men chatted briefly. When Mindar came back he called over an aide.

"Commander Heeger had no problem with you going out as long as you stay out of the way of his people," Mindar told Grand.

"No problem," Grand said. They were in the wrong place anyway.

Mindar asked his aide for a radio and a flashlight. The young man ran off to the Jeep to get them.

"The commander will let the field commander know you're coming out," Mindar said. "He doesn't want anyone mistaking you for a cat."

"Thanks." Grand looked at Sheriff Gearhart. "Would you care to come along?"

"I'll leave the zoological police work to you," Gearhart said. The sheriff looked at Mindar. "I want to go to the tar pits, see what kind of preparations they're making. I've still got friends on the force. I want to see if I can ratchet things up a bit."

Mindar's eyes shifted to the tail hanging from Gearhart's belt. "There'll be press down at the tar pits too. You should probably put that away."

Gearhart raised it slightly. "It stays. It's like we used to do with Cong scalps in ' Nam."

"This isn't Vietnam."

"It will be before the night's through," Gearhart said confidently. " Saigon, Day Omega. People shitting and running when they see what's coming at them."

"It's your ass," Mindar warned. "The press will eat it up."

"I've seen them today," Gearhart said. "These people are amateurs."

The lieutenant shook his head slowly, then called over a guardsman to give Gearhart a lift to the tar pits. Grand suddenly understood something about Gearhart He didn't care about his town. He cared about his side. Those who were on it got his support and protection. Those who weren't were his enemies. There was no middle ground.

As Gearhart left Mindar's aide returned with the flashlight and radio. He gave them to Grand.

Mindar looked at the scientist "Let me know what you find out there."

"I will." Grand said. "Thanks for your help."

"Sure. I wish it were more. I truly do."

Grand thanked him. As the scientist walked toward the gate at the back of the estate, he felt as though he were having an out-of-body experience. He was watching things happen with an inevitability and momentum he couldn't stop. Bureaucracy, politics, territorialism, fear, misinformation, stupidity-everything bad was coming together to make the worst possible decisions. But he couldn't allow himself to focus on that. He had to try and find out where the cats were and then get to the tar pits. He had a very bad feeling that if the cats did show up, tranquilizing them would be the last thing on the minds of the LAPD. Especially if Gearhart had anything to say about it He had to convince them otherwise, even if it meant taking point in any attack and trying to save at least one or two of the cats.

Heeger let Grand out and alerted his own units that the scientist would be moving through the hills. Flashlights poked through the trees and brush while a police helicopter and the Chinook circled the hills, its spotlight blanching the color from the trees and rocks. Despite Mindar's claim that they were being as careful as possible, the officers were crunching loud enough for Grand to hear and they were all walking upwind. If the cats were out there, these people didn't stand a chance. And while the officers were all over the map, they had missed two things. First, they should be concentrating on the southwest. The wind was blowing in that direction from the estate. Though wild animals shied from cooked meat, the smell coming from the fire pits might have attracted the cats. The second thing they should be focusing on was high ground. Animals preferred to run on level or downward-sloping ground to conserve energy and build up speed.

Rather than give the others an education, Grand looked around the surrounding hills.

There was a stilt-house under construction on a lot overlooking the estate, about two hundred yards up. It was in the right place and there was a high pile of dirt near the foundation. Grand made his way to the site and approached the mound. There appeared to be remnants of claw marks in the loosely packed earth. He walked around to the other side.

Sewer pipes lay beside the foundation. The ground had been dug to connect them to the main pipelines. The hole was about five feet high and went under Coldwater Canyon. He could hear the distant sound of water, possibly sewage in the main pipe or water draining from the hills.

Grand ducked down and looked in. The opening was five feet across. He didn't feel the presence of the saber-tooths the way he had before. He listened and heard nothing. He turned the flashlight from the opening, let it play over the house and through the surrounding hills. He didn't see any eyes, a flanking cat watching him. That wasn't a good sign. If he didn't find one inside, then maybe the pride had already moved on.

Holding the flashlight in one hand, Grand crawled in.

The tunnel was snug and when Grand hit basalt, the walls became extremely tight and jagged. He was in an earthquake fissure where the rock had simply split. The saber-tooths obviously had the capacity of a modern-day cat to twist and slink through tight places. The adaptability of the animals was astonishing. They had to have been hunted out of existence. No wonder humans were an irresistible target. Food plus one less enemy to deal with.

After a few minutes Grand found a diamond bracelet on the ground, then large pieces of bone and clothing. Then he saw human hands and feet. His fears were confirmed: The cats had eaten and moved on. That was uncharacteristic of large migrating predators and it seemed to be uncharacteristic of what he'd seen these cats do. He wondered if the saber-tooths could possibly have smelled the tar from here or whether they were moving along a path they had moved eons ago-perhaps only days before, to them.

Or was it something else?

Grand tried to raise Lieutenant Mindar but the signal wasn't getting out of the cave. He edged around the body parts and continued on. After a few minutes he found the sewer conduit. It was a thick white pipe set in the soil overhead and held there with bands bolted into the surrounding rock, flat steel sheets that gave the pipe play whenever the earth shook. The pipes were intact and the water sounds weren't coming from there. They were coming from somewhere ahead. An underground stream, probably, flush with rain water from La Nina.

One that could lead to drain pipes, caverns, or God knows where else, he thought His plan might not work. Not if they'd already dispersed into two or even three separate groups. Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing.

It was a long way from Monte Arido to the Hollywood Hills, but maybe the cats hadn't bothered to rest tonight The creatures were at home in water. They might have heard the stream and decided to move on. It would certainly make the journey quicker and easier.

But why go now? What was so urgent? Were they afraid of losing a particular tar pit to another pride? Were there actually two prides continuing a struggle, a race, that had begun millennia ago? Or had something else pushed them on? Fear? Did they sense an earthquake coming or maybe a larger predator of some kind? Had something happened within the pride? The pride probably had a leader. Was he young or old, fit or dying? Maybe he was hurt in the long-ago holocaust. The saber-tooth Grand fought had been scarred. Perhaps the leader was being threatened by another male and felt compelled to bring his pride home.

Grand backed out. He felt more anxious than he did when he knew the cats were near. For whatever reason, the saber-tooths were making the final part of their journey tonight. There wasn't time to research, check, double-check, and confer. There might not even be time to coat a tunnel with tar. The saber-tooths could be there in a matter of minutes. The area had to be completely evacuated and police had to be set up around the pits now.

The scientist got on the radio as he returned to the mansion.

"Lieutenant," he said.

"Here, Professor."

"I found body parts in one of the tunnels I checked, but no cats."

"What does that mean?"

"They moved on," Grand said. "They probably saw or heard all the activity and wanted to get to familiar territory as soon as possible. You've got to inform whoever's in charge there may not be time to set a trap for the saber-tooths. Tell them to cordon off the entire area around the tar pits and fall back as far as they can."

"Why?"

"Because those cats may get there in just a few minutes, coming at them in ways they can't begin to imagine!"