Relic

representations, no sculptures of such a claw. We’ve [204] learned that the forelimbs on the figurine of Mbwun have three claws, with a thickened central digit. Now look at these tracks,” Frock said, pointing to the fossil. “Think back to the reconstruction of the claw and the claw marks in the victim.”

“So you think,” Pendergast said, “that the killer might be the same animal that made these tracks? A dinosaur?” Margo thought she detected amusement in Pendergast’s voice.

Frock looked at the agent, shaking his head vigorously. “No, Mr. Pendergast, not a dinosaur. Nothing as common as a dinosaur. We’re talking about the proof of my theory of aberrant evolution. You know my work. This is the creature I believe killed off the dinosaurs.”

Pendergast remained silent.

Frock leaned closer to the FBI agent. “I believe,” he said, “this creature, this freak of nature, is the cause of the dinosaur’s extinction. Not a meteorite, not a change in climate, but some terrible predator—the creature that made the tracks preserved in this fossil. The embodiment of the Callisto Effect. It was not large, but it was extremely powerful and fast. It probably hunted in cooperative packs and was intelligent. But because superpredators are so short lived, they aren’t well represented in the fossil record. Except in the Transvaal Shales. And in these tracks here, from the Tzun-je-jin Badlands. Are you following me?”

“Yes.”

“We are in a population explosion today.”

Pendergast remained silent.

“Human beings, Mr. Pendergast!” Frock continued, his voice rising. “Five thousand years ago there were only ten million of us on the globe. Today there are six billion! We’re the most successful form of life the earth has ever seen!” He tapped the copies of Fractal Evolution that lay on his desk. “Yesterday, you asked about my next book. It will constitute an extension of my theory on the Callisto Effect, applying it to modern life. My [205] theory predicts that at any moment, some grotesque mutation will come about; some creature that will prey on the human population. I’m not saying the killer is the same creature that killed off the dinosaurs. But a similar creature ... well, look at these tracks again. They look like Mbwun! We call it convergent evolution, where two creatures look alike not because they’re necessarily related, but because they evolve to do the same thing. A creature that’s evolved to kill. There are too many similarities, Mr. Pendergast.”

Pendergast brought his briefcase onto his lap. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Dr. Frock.”

“Don’t you see? Something came back in that crate from South America. Unleashed in the Museum. A highly successful predator. That figurine of Mbwun is the proof. The indigenous tribes were aware of this creature, and built a religion around it. Whittlesey inadvertently sent it into civilization.”

“You’ve seen this figurine yourself?” Pendergast asked. “Dr. Cuthbert seemed reluctant to show it to me.”

“No,” Frock admitted. “But I have it on the best authority. I plan to make my own observations at the earliest opportunity.”

“Dr. Frock, we looked into the matter of the crates yesterday,” Pendergast said. “Dr. Cuthbert assured us there was nothing of value in them, and we have no reason to disbelieve him.” He stood up, impassive. “I thank you for your time and help. Your theory is most interesting, and I truly wish I could subscribe to it.” He shrugged. “However, my own opinion remains unchanged for the time being. Forgive me for being blunt, but I hope you will be able to separate your conjectures from the cold facts of our investigation, and help us in any way you can.” He walked toward the door. “Now, I hope you’ll excuse me. If anything comes to mind, please contact me.”

And he left.

[206] Frock sat in his wheelchair, shaking his head. “What a shame,” he murmured. “I had high hopes for his cooperation, but it seems he’s like all the rest.”

Margo glanced at the table next to the chair Pendergast had just vacated. “Look,” she said. “He left the DNA printout.”

Frock’s eyes followed Margo’s. Then he chuckled. “I assume that’s what he meant by anything else coming to mind.” He paused. “Perhaps he isn’t like all the rest, after all. Well, we won’t tell on him, Margo, will we?” he said, picking up the phone.

“Dr. Frock to speak with Dr. Cuthbert.” A pause. “Hello, Ian? Yes, I’m fine, thank you. No, it’s just that I’d like to get into the Superstition exhibition right away. What’s that? Yes, I know it’s been sealed, but... No, I’m quite reconciled to the idea of the exhibition, it’s just that ... I see.”

Margo noticed Frock’s face redden.

“In that case, Ian,” Frock continued, “I should like to reexamine the crates from the Whittlesey expedition. Yes, the ones in the Secure Area. I know we saw them yesterday, Ian.”

There was a long silence. Margo could hear a faint squawking.

“Now look here, Ian,” Frock said. “I’m chairman of this department, and I have a right to ... Don’t you speak to me that way, Ian. Don’t you dare.”

Frock was shaking with rage in a way Margo had never seen before. His voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

“Sir, you have no business in this institution. I shall be making a formal grievance to the Director.”

Frock slowly returned the phone to its cradle, his hand trembling. He turned toward Margo, fumbling for his handkerchief. “Please forgive me.”

“I’m surprised,” said Margo. “I thought that as a Chairman ...” She couldn’t quite complete the sentence.

[207] “I had complete control over the collections?” Frock smiled, his composure returning. “So did I. But this new exhibition, and these killings, have aroused sentiments in people that I hadn’t suspected. Technically, Cuthbert outranks me. I’m not sure why he’s doing this. It would have to be something profoundly embarrassing, something that would delay or prevent his precious exhibition from opening.” He thought for a minute. “Perhaps he’s aware of this creature’s existence. After all, he was the one who moved the crates. Perhaps he found the hatched eggs, made the connection, hid them. And now he wants to deny me my right to study it!” He sat forward in the wheelchair and balled his fists.