The Wolfen

“You’re not presenting a paper here. You’re talking confidentially to two New York City policemen. There’s a difference.”

“True enough. Maybe I’m exaggerating.”

“So tell us your theory. For God’s sake help us!” The words came out of Wilson like a bark, causing a sudden pause in the bustle of the workroom beyond the little office. “I’m sorry,” he said more softly, “I guess I’m a little upset. Me and my partner here, we’re the only ones who even suspect what we’re up against. And we’ve had some bad experiences.”

Becky broke in. “These things don’t just kill. They hunt. They nearly got us in a house up in the Bronx a few days ago. They hid on an upper floor. One of them tried to lure me with the cries of a baby while the others—”

“Stalked me. They tried to separate us.”

“And I think they might have been outside my apartment last night.”

The words had come in a rush out of both of them, driven by their rising sense of isolation. Now Ferguson was looking at them with unabashed horror, almost as if they themselves bore some loathsome mark.

“You must be mistaken. They can’t be as intelligent as all that.”

Becky blinked with surprise—she had never realized that. Not only were they deadly, they were smart! They had to be damn smart to lure her and Wilson into that stairway, and to seek out her apartment. They had to understand who the enemy was, and know the importance of destroying him before he revealed their presence to the world.

Wilson moved like a man in a dream, his hand gliding up to touch his cheek, the fingers running down the rough line of the throat, down to the seedy brown necktie and back to his lap. As the realization grew also in him his eyes hooded in a deep frown, his mouth opened almost sensually, as if he had fallen asleep and was dreaming of love. “I was beginning to suspect that they were intelligent, too. No matter what you say, Doctor Ferguson, what happened is what happened. You know something—I’ll bet they didn’t pop out of the ground yesterday either. If they’re that smart, they know how to stay well hidden—and they know how important that is, too. That’s my thought.”

“Well, that’s pretty much the theory I didn’t want to tell you, too. You’ve got to get me a cranium or a head, though. Then I can give you an idea of the intelligence. But don’t worry about it, I’m sure we’re much smarter.”

“Doctor, what would a chimp be like if it had the senses of a dog?”

“Lethal—oh God, I see what you mean. If their senses are highly developed enough they don’t need our intelligence to best us. I suppose that’s right. It’s very disturbing, the idea of canine senses and a primate brain.”

“And it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jesus Christ, I thought she just told you she was hunted!” His vehemence surprised her. The layers of calm professionalism were stripped away, revealing a Wilson underneath that she had never seen before. Here was a man of intensity and great feeling, protective, angry, full of violence. The cynical surface was gone. What ran beneath was burning with pain.

“Please keep your voice down. I can’t have a disturbance in here. So I’ll agree that she was hunted. You do something about the problem, you’re the police.”

“Crap. We don’t know what the hell we’re confronting.”

“And I can’t help you unless I’ve got more information. I’m not going to go spouting out suppositions that could get quoted in the papers. Anyway it’s your problem to protect the community, so protect it. My interest is strictly scientific. So bring me a head. If I’m going to give you your answers, I’ve got to have a head.”

Wilson’s chin was pulled in, his shoulders were hunched. “Hell, you can count on us! Bring you a head—we can’t possibly bring you a head and you know it. Nobody’s ever caught one of these things. Even if they’ve evolved at absolute top speed, how long have they been around?”

“At the very least—and this seems next to impossible—give them ten thousand years.”

“Longer than recorded history and you want us to bring you a head! Let’s get out of here, Detective Neff, we’ve got work to do.” He got up and left.

“Just one more thing,” Becky said as she was leaving, “just one thing I’d like you to think about. If they are following us, they probably know we came to see you.” She went out behind Wilson, leaving the scientist staring at the door.

Wilson didn’t speak again until they had passed back through the nearly empty museum and were in the car. “That was bullshit you fed that schmuck,” he said. “He won’t believe us no matter how close to home you try to take it.”

“Maybe not. It sure would help us though, to get a Ph.D. behind us. Think of what would happen if that guy went to Underwood and said these two cops might have a point.”

“Don’t, Becky. It isn’t going to happen that way.” They rode on in silence for a few minutes. “Maybe we’re spooked,” Wilson said. “Maybe it was just our imagination last night.”

“Our?”

“I saw something too.” He said it as if he didn’t want to. “Something watched me from a fire escape when I was on my way to my rooming house. It was a damn strange-looking dog. I only got a glimpse and then it was gone. I’ve never seen a face like that on a dog—so intense. In fact I’ve never seen a face like that before except once, when I collared a maniac. He looked at me like that. It was because the bastard was about to pull a hidden shiv on me.”

“Why didn’t you say something about this earlier?”

“I was wishing it was my imagination. I guess we’re in trouble, Becky.” This last he said softly, almost in awe of the words. They both knew exactly what the stakes were. Becky felt sick. Wilson, sitting beside her as solid as a statue, had never seemed so frail. She found herself wanting to protect him. She could imagine the thing on the fire escape—she could picture the eager, intent eyes, sense the frustration at the crowds on the sidewalk, imagine the