‘My goodness,’ he said in wonderment. ‘This is quite a toy.’
He stamped on the steel floor, sending a bong reverberating through the chamber.
‘No tunnelling out this time,’ he announced. ‘Not like the souq. Do you speak English, creature? Do you know what I am saying to you?’
The creature rolled her eyes.
‘And for good reason,’ said Kronski, as though the sentence had been spoken aloud. ‘We know all about your hypnotism tricks. And the invisibility.’ He pinched her cheek, as one would a cute infant. ‘Your skin feels almost human. What are you? A fairy, is that it?’
Another eye roll.
Kronski addressed the guards.
‘Has she moved?’ he asked.
The men shook their heads. It was a stupid question. How could she move?
‘Very well. Good. All proceeds according to my plan.’ Now Kronski rolled his own eyes. ‘Listen to me.
‘Metal hands?’ said the newest guard, unaccustomed to Kronski’s rants. The other two were well aware that many of the doctor’s questions were rhetorical, especially the ones about Andrew Lloyd Webber or James Bond.
Kronski ignored the new guy. He placed a finger on pursed lips for a moment, to communicate the importance of what he was about to say, then took a deep whistling breath through his nose.
‘OK, gentlemen. Everyone listening? This evening couldn’t be more important. The future of the entire organization depends on it. Everything must be totally perfect. Do not take your eyes off the prisoner and do not remove her restraints or gag. No one is to see her until the trial begins. I paid five million in diamonds for the privilege of a grand reveal, so no one gets in here but me. Understood?’
This was not a rhetorical question, though it took the new guy a moment to realize it.
‘Yes, sir. Understood,’ he blurted a fraction after the other two.
‘If something does go wrong, then your final job of the evening will be burial duty.’ Kronski winked at the new guard. ‘And you know what they say, last in first out.’
The atmosphere at the banquet was a little jaded — until the food arrived. The thing about Extinctionists was that they were picky eaters. Some hated animals so much that they were vegetarians, which limited the menu somewhat. But this year Kronski had managed to poach a chef from a vegetarian restaurant in Edinburgh who could do things with a courgette that would make the most hardened carnivore weep.
They started with a subtle tomato-and-pepper soup in baby turtle shells. Then a light parcel of roast vegetables in pastry with a dollop of Greek yoghurt, served in a monkey-skull saucer. All very tasty, and by now the wine was relaxing the guests.
Kronski’s stomach was so churned with nerves that he could not eat a single bite, which was most unusual for him. He hadn’t felt this giddy since his very first banquet in Austin all those years ago.
Two things would make this banquet the greatest ever held.
The entree would delight everyone, meat eaters and vegetarians alike. The vegetarians could not eat it, but at least they could marvel at the artistry it took to prepare the dish.
Kronski tapped a small gong beside his place setting and stood to introduce the dish, as was the custom.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, ‘let me tell you a story of extinction. In July 1889, Professor D. S. Jordan visited Twin Lakes in Colorado and published his discoveries in the 1891
Nobody shed a tear. In fact there was a smattering of applause for the
Kronski raised a hand. ‘No, no. This is not a cause for joy. It is said that the yellowfin was a very tasty fish, with a particulary sweet flavour. What a pity we shall never taste it.’ He paused dramatically. ‘Or shall we …’
At the rear of the room, a large false wall slid aside to reveal a red velvet curtain. With great ceremony, Kronski pulled a remote control from his jacket and zapped the curtain, which drew back with a smooth swish. Behind it was an enormous trolley bearing what appeared to be a miniature glacier. Silver and steaming.
The guests sat forward, intrigued.
‘What if there was a flash freeze over a hundred years ago in Twin Lakes.’
A twittering began among the diners.
‘What if a frozen chunk of lake was trapped by a landslide deep in an uncharted crevasse and kept solid by near-zero currents.’
‘What if that chunk surfaced a mere six weeks ago on the land of my good friend Tommy Kirkenhazard. One of our own faithful members.’
Tommy stood to take a bow, waving his Texas-grey-wolf stetson. Though his teeth were smiling, his eyes were shooting daggers at Kronski. It was obvious to the entire room that there was bad blood between the two.
‘Then it would be possible, outrageously expensive and difficult but possible, to transport that chunk of ice here. A chunk that contains a sizeable shoal of yellowfin cutthroat trout.’ Kronski drew breath to allow this information to sink in. ‘Then we, dear friends, could be the first people to eat yellowfin in a hundred years.’
This prospect even had a few of the vegetarians salivating.
‘Watch, Extinctionists. Watch and be amazed.’
Kronski clicked his fingers and a dozen kitchen staff wheeled the ponderous trolley into the centre of the banqueting area, where it rested on a steel grille. The workers then stripped off their uniforms to reveal monkey costumes underneath.
But a quick survey of his guests assured him that they remained enthralled.
The kitchen staff were actually trained circus acrobats from one of the Cirque du Soleil knock-offs touring north Africa. They were only too glad to take a few days out from their schedule to put on this private show for the Extinctionists.
They swarmed up the huge ice-block, anchoring themselves on with ropes, crampons or grappling hooks, and began demolishing it with chainsaws, flaming swords and flamethrowers, all produced seemingly from nowhere.
