“One of our maintenance workers found it on a big cat that had been shot in one of our state parks,” Bulatt said. “Apparently, someone had been tracking it for some purpose; but it definitely wasn’t one of our biologists or wardens. That’s why we’re hoping you’d be able to link us to whoever’s using your devices in our area.”
Rightmore seemed to consider the idea for a few seconds.
“We may be able to give you some leads; but — as you probably noticed — we don’t put serial numbers on these particular devices, so tracking them back to a specific individual really isn’t possible. However, this collar modification might give us something to go on. There aren’t many people working in this specific field of research, and most of us know do each other. Would, uh, these people be in some sort of trouble?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Bulatt said. “We were going to turn the devices over to our law enforcement folks, and let them deal with whatever hunting violations might be involved. But, to tell you the truth,” Bulatt dropped his voice slightly, “these trackers are far better than anything we’ve got in our inventory, and we’re kind of hoping we can work out some kind of cooperative arrangement with whoever’s using them in our park. You know, sharing data, that sort of thing. I, uh, assume the WB-7E’s are pretty expensive?”
“A hundred-and-ten each; with a fifteen-percent discount in orders of ten or more,” Rightmore nodded, shrugging apologetically. “We’d certainly like to make them more affordable; but the multi-phase transmitter chips we’re using to regulate the output signal are still very expensive, even when we buy them in thousand-unit lots.”
Bulatt grimaced and then sighed. “I was afraid the situation might be something like that; they’re definitely way out of our budget, as usual.”
Rightmore smiled sympathetically.
“I guess you probably hear that a lot from the state research biologists here in Washington, too,” Bulatt went on. “It’s been a constant battle trying to get the state fish and game agencies in the Northwest to properly fund basic wildlife research these last few years.”
“We do get a lot of queries from the states,” Rightmore said. “And, on occasion, we have been able to come up with much less expensive devices that more-or-less meet their needs.”
“Then you must have to put up with a local friend of mine, Dr. Philip Rainier, on a fairly regular basis.” Bulatt smiled. “Phil’s pretty much a legend in the Northwest animal behavior research community; jury-rigs tracking devices with just about anything he can get his hands on that possesses an electronic pulse.”
“Dr. Rainier has stopped by a few times in the past,” Rightmore acknowledged, “but I don’t believe we’ve seen him recently.”
“Probably just as well. Knowing Phil, he probably took one look at your gear, and then spent the rest of his visit trying to figure out how he could pry your back door without setting off the alarms.”
“Actually, we’ve enjoyed his occasional visits. You could always count on him to come up with some innovative approaches to data collection; but we did have to keep a close eye on him around the stockroom,” Rightmore acknowledged with a seemingly amused shrug.
“Well, for better or worse, he did finally retire; almost a year ago now,” Bulatt said. “I understand he spends most of his time now fishing in Oregon with his two grandkids.”
“Heard a lot about those kids over the years,” Rightmore said. “Good for Phil, couldn’t happen to a more deserving fellow.” Then he looked back down at the flashers and collar. “As for these units, our chief design engineer will be back in the office tomorrow. Perhaps, if you could leave them with me for a couple of days, he may be able to give you a lead on your lion trackers.”
“Actually, I’d like to,” Bulatt said as he walked over to the workbench, picked up the flasher and collar, put them back into the nylon satchel, and zipped it closed, “but I’ve already promised to show them to a group of Northwest park managers at a coordination meeting in Olympia tomorrow. But, if you don’t mind, I would like to bring them back later — maybe in a couple of days — so we can try to get a lead on their owners? I really hate to give up on a potential equipment-sharing opportunity.”
Bulatt caught a brief flash of annoyance in Rightmore’s expression, but it quickly disappeared as the electronics researcher nodded his head agreeably.
“That would be fine, of course. We’re always happy to try to help potential customers, even if their resources are a bit limited.”
Bulatt shrugged. “Actually, it’s been my experience that people with limited resources can always find ways to solve problems, as long as they’re willing to work together.” Bulatt picked up the satchel and extended his hand. “Mr. Rightmore, I really do appreciate your help in this matter.”
“Not at all,” Rightmore said as he led Bulatt back down the hallway to the reception area. “And please, the next time you hear from Dr. Rainier, please give him my regards.”
“Yes,” Bulatt said, “I’ll certainly do that.”
“Gecko-Two to Gecko-One.”
“Gecko-One, go.”
“You called it right on the money, boss,” Quince Lanyard spoke into his throat mike as he adjusted the range and focus of his spotting scope to bring the dark blue van back into focus. “The place is crawling with bleedin’ coppers; you’d think they were holding a convention.”
“Any idea who we’re dealing with?”
“Not at this distance. With weather conditions the way they are, we’re doing good to pick out the bloody vehicles; but they’re definitely using spotter teams. We’re set up in a warehouse parking lot across the road, maybe a hundred meters out. The rain’s a bit of a bitch, so we’re not getting much in the way of usable photos; but I wouldn’t want to chance trying to get in any closer just yet. We’re counting at least three teams on the watch, and it looks like they’re working staggered eight hour rotations. If that’s the case, we can bloody well forget about re- supplying the larder.”
“That’s all right, we can make do with what we’ve got for a while,” Wallis replied. “I don’t see how they’re going to be of much use on this next job anyway.”
“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I checked in. Our lad, Jack-o, may have come up with a clever solution to our problem.”
“Really?”
Lanyard could hear the amusement in Wallis’ voice.
“Thing is, I think his plan is fucking brilliant, unlikely as that might seem,” Lanyard went on, giving Gavin a broad wink. “And since there’s not much of interest going on around here, I thought — ”
“Give it another hour, in case the weather clears, and then bring it in,” Wallis agreed. “We need to talk.”
It was raining even harder when Bulatt stepped outside the Hood Electronics entrance and started walking toward his rented van, wondering how he was going to play this latest bit of interesting information.
Thirty seconds later, as he was walking past the dark blue van, he had his answer.
One of the SWAT types suddenly stood up between two nearby cars, walked casually over into the driving lane and placed himself in Bulatt’s path, both hands folded casually in front of his belt.
Bulatt stopped, cocked his head curiously, glanced back to confirm that the second member of the team had taken up position six feet behind him, and then turned his attention back to his first confronter.
“Can I help you?” Bulatt asked.
“We’d like to see what you’ve got in the bag.”
“Really? Why would that be any of your business?” Bulatt asked reasonably.
“We don’t have to give you a reason,” the first man said matter-of-factly.
“Are you planning on showing me a badge, or maybe a set of credentials, along with a signed search warrant?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, in that case, whatever I’ve got in this bag is definitely none of your business,” Bulatt said with a slight smile and shrug. “So, if you’ll excuse me — ”
Bulatt heard the man behind him coming in fast, glanced back, saw the sap arcing toward his head, reflexively turned as he tossed the satchel aside, and deflected the potentially lethal blow with a sweeping right forearm block. Then — because he sensed the front man moving in just as fast — he brought his right leg up, twisted his hips sideways, drove his right boot sharply down into the side of his rear assailant’s knee with a ki-yi yell
