Ice Claw

newspaper. I’ll do my best to help answer them for you.”

Farentino settled in his chair, relaxed, in control again. He would find out whatever he could and then report to Tishenko. Life was on an even keel again. He need not waste money on the charity after all, nor go and see his pinch-faced mother.

He smiled. “Tom, would you mind if I smoked a cigar?”

20

The power of a tiger’s roar stuns its victim, shocking it into immobility, allowing the biggest feline predator in the world vital seconds to attack. Max saw the snarl and felt the air tremble. He faltered, his legs gave way beneath him and he slumped against the low parapet as the fever leached his energy.

How could he defend himself? The men could kill him right now.

He was losing consciousness, the force of it drowning him in a flood of helplessness.

“Ez ihure ere fida-eheke hari ere,” he said, as quickly as reciting a mantra. A desperate means of reaching out to the old monk’s friend.

Fauvre realized in that instant that Max had uttered words only Zabala could have willingly given him. Max fell to the ground. The men reached forward to help him in response to Fauvre’s shouted commands.

Max tumbled into darkness. Tendrils of fear and pain snagged him, prickling like a thousand scorpion stings. His mind plummeted down a heat-enraged tunnel.

“Careful!” Fauvre shouted at the men.

The boy was having some kind of fit; they couldn’t hold him. The monkey bite must have been infected, the injections given too late. Max was thrashing around like a madman. But his eyes were wide open and his lips pulled back in a terrifying silent scream.

Sweat poured off him, his shirt clinging to his body as if he’d just dragged himself out of a river-a river of turmoil. From the shadows of his mind, Fauvre appeared, a giant of strength, not the old man in a wheelchair. He was reaching for Max. His voice did not match the image. “Let me help you, boy. Let me help you!”

And like a child lost in a violent sea, Max knew he wanted to be helped. But not by the man who had threatened to take his life. He twisted and rolled, falling away from the outstretched hands.

“My God!” Fauvre cried.

Max tumbled over the low parapet. Slithering down the smooth-edged walls, his unconscious body flopped and rolled until it finally slumped onto the ground. That final impact penetrated his mind. He groaned.

Someone was shouting in the background. Where? He opened his eyes. The back of his head was resting against the sloping pit. Faces peered over, mouthing words in Arabic. He heard a few of them, understood none, except one-Aladfar!

Pushing through his grogginess Max managed to roll onto his knees and tried to find the energy to push himself up. Half turning, he saw the slow, deliberate tread of the tiger, its paws the size of dinner plates, its head slung low, its unwavering gaze locked on its prey as it stalked forward.

Fauvre looked on in horror. The tiger would strike any second. The boy would be torn apart and he would be responsible. The boy had been sent by Zabala-that was now obvious-but his only chance for survival was if the male tiger responded to Fauvre’s commands.

“Aladfar! Back! Ecoutez-vous! Listen to me! Ecoutez!”

What happened next was uncertain. Fauvre believed the animal stopped, gazed up into his face and lay down submissively, keeping its eyes on Max. The Berber keepers later told Abdullah another story. They were looking down into the unlit shadows of the pit and could see the boy. He had rolled clear, was half obscured by a jagged tongue of rock face, but stood up. His hands opened like claws at waist height, the sunlight changed, the shadows moved. The one man swore Max’s body curved like an animal’s, his teeth bared, and his body became bigger-on the grave of his beloved mother, he swore to Abdullah that he had witnessed djinn, an earthbound spirit that can assume animal form. The other argued it was a shadow that loomed up near the boy when the sun caught the old rooftops, and that was when Aladfar lay down. The size of the shadow and the fact the boy took a step towards him made the big cat cautious. No one, not even Fauvre, had ever challenged Aladfar in a direct confrontation.

The tiger saw only the boy, bigger than a goat, but an easy kill. The smell of fear from the two other men held captive behind those bars had alerted his senses. And he was hungry. When the boy-creature fell he could have pounced, but a voice carried on the air. It was the old man, but Aladfar would always choose when to defer to man’s commands. He lifted his head not because of the old man’s demanding voice but because another scent filled his nostrils. Animal. A beast he had known in some previous time when he had the freedom of the mountains and jungles. Aladfar feared nothing except the violence of man, and even then he would attack if forced to. But this defenseless creature evoked energies that were beyond understanding; a time remembered from the forests and mountains; a primeval force that spoke only to Aladfar’s sixth sense.

He would wait, as his instincts told him. So he lay down.

Fauvre wasted no time. He drove his wheelchair down the ramp, opened the iron gate and went into the enclosure. He spoke softly to his tiger, soothed its passion until he was close enough to reach out and stroke its head. Aladfar knew the gentle touch and the smell of the old man. He stood up. Fauvre, sitting in his wheelchair, barely came to the tiger’s shoulder.

The privilege of being so close, so intimate, with the true king of the jungle always affected Fauvre. “I know you are the greatest beast in the world, my Aladfar, but we must not let this boy die,” he whispered, stroking the great cat’s ruff, nurturing the animal’s instincts.

Fauvre had left his fear in the circus ring all those years ago, when Aladfar punished him for his human arrogance. Now he felt only a deep love for the huge animal. Gently, ever so gently, he turned the big cat away, guiding him to the passageway that led to a locked cage.

Settled by the gentle vibrations of the old man’s voice and the uncertainty of the boy who had not yet moved, Aladfar allowed the man he had once mauled to close the gate on him. The tiger lay down and purred.

Fauvre turned back to Max, gesturing his keepers to enter what was now a safe pit and help the boy. By the time they got there Fauvre had moved closer. Max still stood, his eyes open, a look of stone-set determination on his face, as if he drew energy from some deep recess of his brain.

Once again Fauvre spoke softly, as if to a wild animal. “Max, it is all right now. You will not be harmed. I promise you. Can you hear me, boy?”

Fauvre heard the two men approach cautiously behind him and raised a hand to stop them. No one should approach a wild animal in fear of its life. For in that moment Fauvre, sensing the same energy Aladfar had, believed that was what he was witnessing.

Max blinked, looked at Fauvre, nodded and sat, slumping back into unconsciousness. At last the men could approach and lift him out of the enclosure. Abdullah and Sophie had heard the shouts of alarm and reached Aladfar’s pit as the men brought him clear. Abdullah took Max in his arms and carried him to his tent. Sophie, running ahead, gathered the medicines her father had instructed her to fetch. She returned to find her father checking Max’s pulse and Abdullah bathing the boy’s face. They had laid him in the near darkness, where the air was cooled by the layers of the tent.

“It’s more than the infection. Something else is going on inside of him. If the fever breaks in the next few hours he’ll live,” Fauvre said.

“We need a doctor,” Sophie said.

Fauvre opened the medical bag Sophie had brought him. “By the time he gets here his presence will not be required. For one reason or another,” he said, preparing another injection. “He will have recovered or he will be dead.”

“We should try!” Sophie said impatiently.

Abdullah touched her shoulder. “Sophie, there is a dust storm coming. No doctor would risk it.”

The injection administered, Fauvre had done all he could do for now. “Keep him cool, bathe his face, try and get him to drink as much water as he can. Can you do that?” he said to Sophie.