Relic

“Pendergast, turn on your miner’s lamp!” she burst out. “Shine it at the beast!”

“What are you talking about!”

“It’s nocturnal, remember? It probably hates light.”

“That’s absolutely correct!” cried Frock.

“Stay back!” Pendergast shouted. Margo heard a small click, then the brilliance of the miner’s light blinded her momentarily. As her vision returned, she saw [391] Pendergast on one knee, his gun leveled at the door, the bright circle of light focused directly on its center.

There was another crunching noise, and Margo could see splinters spray into the room from a widening split in the upper panel. The door bowed inward.

Pendergast stayed steady, sighting along the levelled barrel.

There was another tremendous splintering sound and the door broke inward in pieces, swinging crazily on bent hinges. Margo pressed herself against the wall, forcing herself into it until her spine creaked in protest. She heard Frock shout in amazement, wonder, and fear. The creature squatted in the doorway, a monstrous silhouette in the bright light; then, with a sudden throaty roar, it shook its head and backed out.

“Keep back,” Pendergast said. He kicked the broken door aside and moved cautiously out into the hall. Margo heard a sudden shot, then another. Then, silence. After what seemed an eternity, Pendergast returned, motioning them forward. A trail of small red droplets led down the hallway and around the corner.

“Blood!” Frock said, bending forward with a grunt. “So you wounded it!”

Pendergast shrugged. “Perhaps. But I wasn’t the first. The droplets originate from the direction of the subbasement. See? Lieutenant D’Agosta or one of his men must have wounded it earlier but not disabled it. It moved away with amazing speed.”

Margo looked at Frock. “Why didn’t it take the bait?”

Frock returned her gaze. “We’re dealing with a creature possessed of preternatural intelligence.”

“What you’re saying is that it detected our trap,” Pendergast said, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“Let me ask you, Pendergast. Would you have fallen for that trap?”

Pendergast was silent. “I suppose not,” he said at length.

[392] “Well, then,” said Frock. “We underestimated the creature. We must stop thinking of it as a dumb animal. It has the intelligence of a human being. Did I understand correctly that the body they found in the exhibition was hidden? The beast knew it was being hunted. Obviously, it had learned to conceal its prey. Besides—” he hesitated. “I think we’re dealing with more than simply hunger now. Chances are, it’s been temporarily sated by this evening’s human diet. But it’s also been wounded. If your analogy of the cape buffalo is correct, this creature may not only be hungry, but angry.”

“So you think it’s gone hunting,” Pendergast said quietly.

Frock remained motionless. Then he gave a barely perceptible nod.

“So who’s it hunting now?” Margo asked. No one answered.

= 55 =

Cuthbert checked the door again. It was locked and rock solid. He flicked on the flashlight and shined it in the direction of Wright, slumped in his chair and looking morosely at the floor. Cuthbert switched off the flashlight. The room reeked of whisky. There was no noise except for the rain splattering and drumming against the barred window.

“What are we going to do with Wright?” he asked in a low tone.

“Don’t worry,” Rickman replied, her voice tight and high. “We’ll just tell the press he’s sick and pack him off to the hospital, then schedule a press conference for tomorrow afternoon—”

“I’m not talking about after we get out. I’m talking about now. If the beast comes up here.”

“Please, Ian, don’t talk like that. It scares me. I can’t imagine the animal is going to do that. For all we know, it’s been in the basement for years. Why would it come up here now?”

[394] “I don’t know,” said Cuthbert. “That’s what worries me.” He checked the Ruger once again. Five shots.

He went over to Wright and shook the Director’s shoulder. “Winston?”

“Are you still here?” Wright asked, looking up hazily.

“Winston, I want you to take Lavinia and go into the Dinosaur Hall. Come along.”

Wright slapped Cuthbert’s arm away. “I’m fine just where I am. Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

“The devil with you, then,” said Cuthbert. He sat down in a chair opposite the door.

There was a brief noise—a rattle—at the door, as if the doorknob had been turned, then released.

Cuthbert jumped up, gun in hand. He walked close to the door and listened.

“I hear something,” he said quietly. “Get into the Dinosaur Hall, Lavinia.”