Narusan lay on the platform and stared across the wetland clearing at the distant stretch of trees, ferns, bamboo, and massive limestone formations that lay in line with the angular direction of the platform.
They were waiting for the arrival of a laser-beam equipped transit so that Narusan, an amateur surveyor in addition to his other skills, could make a better estimate of the flight vector of a. 243 Remington Magnum bullet fired by a wealthy poacher resting comfortably on the protective platform; undoubtedly never imagining that his illicit actions might be re-enacted at some later time by a now very enthusiastic and persistent Thai Royal Navy crime scene investigator.
At the Draganov Center
“You’re going to let them kill all four of the little ones?” Aleksei Tsarovich stared at Sergei Draganov in disbelief. “No, you can’t be serious.”
They were off by themselves, in the Center’s small conference room; talking in hoarse whispers because they didn’t dare let word of Marcus Emerson’s latest order get out to everyone else at the Center.
“What choice do we have?” Draganov demanded, the anguish evident on his flushed face. “You know what these people are like. They killed my brother and his entire smuggling organization like they were pests… they as much as admitted it! Do you think they would hesitate for an instant to kill us too?”
“That’s just it, I really don’t think they would kill us,” Tsarovich argued. “Think about it; they need us — you especially. How else can they obtain more exotic creatures for their barbaric hunts?”
“They might not kill us,” Draganov said uneasily, “but they would certainly kill the others here; probably one by one, until we agree to their terms. Could you stand by and watch while they were all executed, over a few creatures that we know we can easily replicate?”
The logic was as clear to the two scientists as it was disheartening.
“No, I couldn’t,” Aleksei agreed with a deep sigh. “We have to do as they say; but how will we be able to explain it to the others — and especially to Borya?”
“Borya can’t know, at least not right away,” Sergei Draganov said emphatically. “He would never bow to such heresy, and they would certainly execute him as an example to the others — and to us.”
“But how do we keep it from him? You know our staff; once they find out what we’re going to do, they’ll get word to him somehow.”
“Not necessarily,” Aleksei said. “Not if we disable the wireless communication system and delay for a while repairing our phone line. And even if he should become suspicious, the snow must be at least ten feet deep up at MAX by now — and it is still falling — so digging his way out to where we release the little ones from MIN would be an impossible task, even for Borya.”
“And he has no reason to do so, anyway, because his primary job — which we know he takes very seriously — is to stay at MAX and care for those creatures.” Draganov smiled.
“Yes, it could work,” his brother agreed, “especially if no shots are fired during the hunt, and we release the animals far enough away from the Center so that no one here will know what’s happening.”
“Don’t forget, it has to be a place with at least four caves nearby,” Draganov went on, “so that Wallis’ hunters will have shelter at night; that was one of his requirements. But also, ideally, from our standpoint, it should be a place where the little ones have a least some chance to remain hidden from — ”
The two scientists looked at each other in sudden realization.
“The Maze,” Draganov whispered.
“What better place could we find? Thousands of big rocks and trees, dozens of caves, and a labyrinth of inter-connecting chasms and gorges with the obvious pathways all circling back on each other.” Tsarovich smiled. “What better place for these crazy fools to try to hunt and kill the little ones with their ancient knives and spears and cleverly-rigged traps? With luck — especially if the storms continue, as they likely will — the little ones will simply disappear within the Maze and never be found; at least not by any of them.”
“According to Emerson, the four intend to hunt only with the tools of early cavemen; flint knives, flint spears and lengths of crudely-woven rope. They will have thermal clothing, and backpacks with water, basic survival rations, sleeping bags, and some kind of emergency shelters, no doubt; but no firearms, no radios or other electronic means of communicating with the outside or each other. And no tracking devices either; which means no compasses or GPS units. Those were the rules they all agreed upon.”
“They are fools to attempt such a thing in these mountains, and in this weather,” Tsarovich said flatly.
“Yes, but apparently wealthy fools, as well as avid hunters,” Draganov reminded. “I’m sure they all possess survival skills.”
“Yes, undoubtedly; but, even so, without GPS units or a compass, it will be easy for them to become lost and perhaps never find their way out.” Tsarovich smiled. “It’s happened to many others over the years who were far better equipped. And, in that case, perhaps our problem will be solved for good also; especially if Emerson and his two assistants take part in the hunt — which I believe they intend to do.”
“But how do we get the little ones all the way out to the Maze?” Draganov asked, suddenly looking concerned. “We can’t possibly transport them there. The access road is more of a bicycle path, at best; and the last mile to the south entrance is barely accessibly on foot, even in good weather.”
“Simple.” Tsarovich shrugged. “I will lay a trail of hay and fruit — using the Sno-Cat as far as it will go, and then the rest of the way on foot — from MIN to the southern entrance; and then go back and release the little ones with their mothers. If I don’t put any more food into the bins, the mothers will certainly follow the food trail.”
The burly veterinarian started to say something else, and then hesitated when he saw the uncertain look on his brother’s face. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.
“Emerson said he wanted the little ones released in an isolated hunting area,” Draganov said uneasily. “He didn’t say anything about releasing the mothers too. That could create a dangerous situation. It is one thing for these wealthy and influential men to fail in their hunt; but it would be something else, entirely, if one of them should be killed by — ”
“By a mother elephant trying to protect her young from the greatest predator that has ever lived on this planet; is that what we should be concerned about? That one of these arrogant men might be gored or crushed? So what if one of them dies?” Tsarovich scoffed. “They claim they want a fair hunt — using only their brains, their hands and their crude weapons — so they can be proud of their trophies; fine, they shall have one. But they should realize, also, that mammoths so young — no matter what the era — would always be in the company of their mothers. These men should be happy they won’t have to deal with the protective fathers, as well; like the real cavemen most certainly did.”
“I suppose that is true,” Draganov conceded.
“And besides,” Tsarovich went on, “if all goes well in the Maze, perhaps predator and prey will never cross paths.”
“But if they do manage to escape, what will they do for food? We can’t possibly carry enough food up there on foot to last them even a few days, much less through the entire winter; not even with Borya’s help.”
“The evergreens will provide some nourishment,” Tsarovich said. “But as soon as the weather clears, even for a few hours, I’ll arrange for air-drops of hay throughout the Maze. A hundred tons at least — enough to last all eight of them until spring — and I’ll make sure its spread out so that the mothers will be forced to hunt for the food, making little ones even more difficult to find. It is a good plan, I think.” The burly veterinarian nodded his head in satisfaction.
“Yes, I agree, it might work; but do we have enough time?” Draganov asked, suddenly looking panicked.
Aleksei nodded. “Yes, I believe so, if I begin now and pace myself.”
“But you can’t do all of that work yourself,” his brother protested. “You’ll need help, especially in this weather.”
Aleksei shook his head. “No, you have to stay at the lab and continue working on the reverse probes to save Tanya. The first set of cocktails slowed the structural changes down, certainly, and may even have stopped them for good; but Tanya cannot stay as she is forever. Her heart rate is dangerously elevated, and the changes in her liver chemistry are becoming more pronounced. You have to find a way to reverse the process.”
“Yes, I know.” Draganov nodded his head, the fatigue evident in his reddened eyes. “There has to be some aspect — a subset, perhaps — of the original switching processes that I’m missing; or simply not seeing.”
“Go back to work, Sergei,” Aleksei said, slapping his thick right hand on Draganov’s slumped shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure out the right sequences; you always do. And, in the meantime, while you are busy saving Tanya
