Bestiary

that precipitated your departure from New York University, and I wasn’t exactly relieved. Your unorthodox research methods not only led to a massive lab explosion—”

Carter wondered if he was going to run down all the sordid details.

“—but also caused the deaths of two of your colleagues.”

Apparently he was. Carter looked over at Del — he’d never told his friend the whole story, and now he wished that he had. It’s just that it was something he tried, without much success, to put out of his mind.

“Now it looks like you’re up to your old tricks, and I won’t have it in my museum.”

When was it, Carter thought, that the Page had become his museum?

“I want this… specimen removed first thing tomorrow. I’ve already got the NAGPRA people swamping me with official queries and threats about our government funding. The last thing I want to do is give them any fresh ammunition.” He threw one last look onto the remains, much of them still concealed by the plaster cast used to preserve them during the recovery and transportation to the lab, and then turned abruptly on his heel. “The museum closes at six P.M., gentlemen,” he said on his way to the door. “The only person authorized to be in here is the night watchman.”

The door, on an air-hinge, slowly closed and latched behind him, and Carter and Del were left alone again, in the now brightly lighted lab. Carter wasn’t sure what to say.

“Two?” Del finally said. “I knew about your friend Joe Russo, but there was another guy who died, too?”

“Joe died from burns,” Carter said, “in the hospital. A young assistant professor, Bill Mitchell, was killed at the scene.”

“He was the one who started the laser?”

“Yes,” Carter said.

“Without knowing about the gas pockets in the rock?”

“He wasn’t even supposed to know about the project. He wasn’t supposed to be in there.”

“Where were you?” Del hadn’t meant to make it sound so accusatory.

“Upstate, at a friend’s house, for the weekend.”

Del rocked on his heels, as if pondering the data, then said, “Well, it sounds to me like it was one royal fuck- up.”

Carter couldn’t deny it.

“But it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even there.” It was what Beth had tried to tell him a thousand times — what he’d told himself nearly as many. But it didn’t matter. He would carry the disaster in his heart to the end of his days, and he would mourn the loss of his friend Joe Russo always.

“So,” Del said, gesturing at the La Brea Man, “what do you want to do about our friend here?”

Carter wasn’t sure yet. He could set up a makeshift lab in the sub-basement, but it would take a few days of preparation. What he did know was that he wanted to spirit one piece of the find away immediately; now that he’d removed the mystery object from the man’s hand, he wanted to get to work on it first thing the next day. And he certainly couldn’t do that in here anymore.

“Let’s just cover it and leave it here until I can set something up.”

They drew the black sheath over the remains and tidied up the work area, and while Del was busy looping the extension cord around the boom box, Carter wrapped the object in his clean handkerchief (thank goodness Beth encouraged him to carry one) and slipped it into the side pocket of his leather jacket; although it was much heavier than he’d thought it would be, enough to make that side of his coat sag, he was hoping that Del wouldn’t notice.

On the way out, Carter suddenly stopped and said to Del, “I forgot something upstairs in my office.”

“You want me to wait for you?”

“No, you go on home to your balcony. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The security guard, Hector, let Del out, and then said to Carter, “Mr. Gunderson, he told me you’re supposed to go now, too.” He said it somewhat apologetically, as he and Carter had always been pretty friendly. In fact, when he and Del had eaten in the lab the night before, Carter had brought Hector a Big Mac and a large fries.

“I’ve just got to make one more stop,” Carter said, and Hector looked dubious. “In the sub-basement.”

Hector made sure the door was locked behind Del, then said, “You can’t go down there now. The elevator’s locked.”

Carter hadn’t thought of that. “But you’ve got the key, right?”

Hector looked as if he wanted to lie, but he knew it was too late.

“C’mon, Hector, we can be down there and back in five minutes.”

Hector surveyed the empty precincts of the first floor — the re-creation of the giant ground sloth rearing up on its hind legs, the skulls of the dire wolves arrayed on the wall, the skeleton of the saber-toothed cat snarling in its glass display case — and must have decided everything looked as though it might be alright for a while. Never underestimate, Carter thought, the power of McDonald’s.

“Okay, but we gotta be fast.”

“We will be,” Carter said, striding toward the elevator bank before the watchman could have any second thoughts.

Hector got in, hitching his belt up over his paunch, and inserted the master key into the control panel. Carter hit the button for the sub-basement, where most of the fossil collections were kept.

When the doors opened, the endless corridors, lined with metal cases and file drawers, were in almost utter blackness; only a couple of emergency lights were on, way off across the floor. Hector said, “Hold the door open,” and he stepped out to hit the bank of light switches. All down the corridors, fluorescent tubes flickered and hummed into life, but even then the light was uneven and insufficient. It was like entering a great, gray cave, one that didn’t want you there.

Hector said, “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe we could come back tomorrow.”

Carter wondered if Hector was one of the security personnel who’d reported the strange noises in the museum at night. “It’s right down here,” Carter said, marching off. The spot he was heading for was all the way at the far end of the floor, but he didn’t see any need to mention that just now.

His shoes had rubber soles, and they squeaked on the linoleum as he walked; his shadow moved ahead of him, and then behind, as he passed under each of the overhead lights. Many of the green and gray metal cabinets, undisturbed for years, were coated with a fine film of dust. Hector followed a few steps behind him.

There was a burbling in his pocket, and he took out his cell phone. Carter knew, before answering, that it would be Beth.

“So you are still alive,” she said, her voice faint.

“Barely, I’m down in the sub-basement.”

“Where?”

He repeated himself; the connection was, predictably, pretty bad.

“… coming home?”

“Yes, I will be coming home. I swear.” As much for Hector as Beth, he said, “I’ll be gone in a few minutes. Everything alright?”

“Fine.” There was a burst of static, then he heard, “… an invitation.”

“You’re breaking up,” he said. “We got an invitation?”

“Yes,” she said. “From al-Kalli. Dinner, at his estate.”

That was interesting, but Carter wasn’t terribly surprised. Al-Kalli was expecting a lot from Beth — and for some reason expecting it fast — and this was probably just one more way to keep tabs on her. And so far, Beth had told al-Kalli nothing of the secret pages she had found under the front cover of the book; Carter had agreed with her that it was best to get them entirely translated and annotated before breaking the news, because once she had, it would be just one more thing al-Kalli would be breathing down her neck about.

“I hope I don’t need a tux,” Carter said. The lights down here seemed even dimmer than ever.

“I’m sure a… get you past the door.” She said something else, too, but it was no longer audible.

“Beth, I’m losing you.”

There was nothing at all but static now.

“I’ll see you in about a half hour,” he said, though he wasn’t sure she could hear him either. He put the phone back in his pocket.

“You sure you know where we’re going?” Hector asked.