'As you wish,' Luther said, and then prodded Mabel behind the left ear with the hooked end of the mahout stick.
Mabel went; she reacted immediately, heading up the track at a good pace to the accompanying cheers, laughter, and applause of the crowd. She started to make the turn around the caged-in ring, abruptly stopped in front of the huge, steel double doors. Luther reached over my shoulder and used the hooked end of his stick to release the safety latch on top of one of the gates. He pushed with the stick, and the portal swung inward. Mabel moved forward.
I was beginning to have serious second thoughts about my casual decision to stay aboard Mabel for this particular ride.
Mabel turned sideways in the relatively narrow corridor, and this enabled Luther to lean back, hook the top of the open gate, and pull it shut. Mabel moved again, and Luther opened the inner gate, which automatically closed behind us as Mabel, without any prompting, stepped smartly into the enormous cage. Two tigers bounded out of the tunnel and began to race around Mabel, through her legs. The third tiger joined them, and all three bounded to their leather-padded pedestals where they sat and-I was convinced-proceeded to eye me hungrily.
Mabel, unbidden, curled her trunk upward, as if inviting me now to get off. I wasn't going anywhere.
'Take this,' Luther said, handing me his mahout stick as he stepped around me and settled into the muscled cradle formed by Mabel's trunk. 'If any of the cats comes at you, poke it with this. Otherwise, my advice is to remain very still and try not to show that you're afraid.' Right.
Mabel lowered Luther smoothly to the ground, where he stepped out of the trunk's cradle and went immediately into his routine, again using only hand and voice signals. The tigers leaped off their perches and began a slow lope around the stolid Mabel, gradually speeding up their pace, occasionally darting under her belly, snaking in a figure-eight pattern through her legs. I thought the tigers seemed skittish, which would have been understandable under the circumstances, and I was certain I now knew exactly how Custer had felt at Little Big Horn. A new element-me-had been unexpectedly introduced into their routine, and they did not know what it meant, were not sure what was expected of them. Tigers not sure of what is expected of them are liable to do what comes naturally-defend their turf, tear and bite at that which is unfamiliar.
Animals aren't people, and nobody who's survived working with big cats, bears, or elephants ever makes the mistake of anthropomorphizing his or her charges. The beast may curb its natural, instincts for a time out of love for, or fear of, a human, but instinct always threatens to take over, and death can be just a sweep of a claw, a snap of armored jaws, away. You change routine at your own peril, and Luther certainly knew that; by allowing Mabel to carry me into the cage with him, he was not only putting my life at risk but greatly increasing the threat to his own. It was quite a shared experience, and I had mixed emotions about it.
I turned around so that I was looking out over Mabel's broad back. I braced the mahout stick across my knees, gripped it firmly with both hands, took a deep breath, and waited to see what would happen next.
Each tiger took a turn leaping up off a pedestal onto Mabel's back, which was protected by a thick leather pad. Each tiger spent a few seconds that felt like hours glaring balefully at me and growling; I held the hooked end of the mahout stick out in front of me and growled back.
The crowd loved it.
The most dangerous moment came during the finale, with all three tigers gathered on Mabel's back, the closest only a yard or so away from me-close enough for me to smell her, close enough for her to remove my smeller along with the rest of my head, if she were so inclined. We studied each other for a few moments, but then, at Luther's command, she reared up on her haunches and pawed the air along with the two others.
Once, in a rare moment when my rough, lofty perch was tiger-free, I took my eyes off the animals long enough to glance at Harper. She was watching me intently. I managed a grin and a weak salute, but she didn't smile back. Grim-faced and ashen, she obviously didn't find anything about the situation amusing, and she was right. She knew her animals, knew that by introducing an unusual element into the routine Luther was playing a dangerous game-dangerous not only for Luther and me but also for the extremely valuable piece of livestock that a nurtured-from-birth, carefully trained Bengal tiger represented; I had no place to retreat, and if one of the magnificent beasts lunged at me, I would have no choice but to poke at its eyes or throat, looking to kill or maim.
But then Luther signaled for the tigers to leap off, and they did-with only a parting, perhaps regretful glance in my direction. They raced in line to the tunnel, with Luther standing at the tunnel's mouth and whacking each animal affectionately on the flank as it passed inside. Then he slowly walked back to Mabel, stepped into the trunk's cradle she offered, and rode regally back up to the top of her head as he waved triumphantly to the appreciative crowd.
'It's true what I've heard about you, Frederickson,' Luther said easily as he settled down behind me, and Mabel, satisfied now, strutted once around the ring, then exited through the double gates, which were being held open for us by two women in skimpy, spangled costumes that included plumed headdresses. 'You have courage.'
'You too, Luther. That stunt was even riskier for you than it was for me.'
'True, but I'm getting paid to take risks. May I ask you to join me in my trailer for some schnapps?'
'I have a lady friend with me.'
'I know. I'll have her brought to us.'
'In that case, I'll be happy to join you. And you can make that a triple schnapps.'
Chapter Six
I must ask you a question, Frederickson,' Luther said as he sipped at his glass of chilled, pear-flavored brandy. His blue eyes revealed nothing as he stared at me over the rim of his expensive crystal snifter. 'Are you here on the behalf of a. . government agency?'
I glanced at Harper, who was sitting next to me on a banquette in the kitchen area of Luther's small but nicely appointed trailer. Luther, swathed now in a thick terry-cloth robe and with a Turkish towel around his neck, was seated across from us, his elbows on the Formica-topped table. Harper had arrived moments after Luther and me, escorted by the Abraham Lincoln look-alike; Luther and the ticket taker had exchanged glances, but not spoken to each other. Now Harper met my gaze, but merely raised one eyebrow as she sipped at her brandy.
'No,' I replied, turning back to Luther. 'Why do you ask?'
'The purpose of your visit isn't in your capacity as a private investigator?' he asked in a flat tone. 'You haven't been hired to, as you Americans say, 'check us out'?'
'You people had us followed out on the grounds, didn't you?'
Luther sighed, picked up the cut-glass decanter beside him, and refilled our glasses. 'I will be frank with you,' he said in a low voice. 'In any case, there is no way I can keep you from discovering the truth, if that's why you're here. If your visit is innocent. . Well, you're both circus people, and I think you can be trusted. There is a good reason for the way World Circus operates, with no headliners and a minimum of publicity despite the fact that-as you pointed out, Frederickson-our performers are exceptional. There is a good reason why we do not choose to go elsewhere.'
'Which is?'
'There is no place else to go. You see, Frederickson, every performer you saw tonight, every usher, clown, and roustabout, is in this country illegally.' He paused, as if waiting for me to say something. When I didn't, he pushed his glass away from him, leaned back on the banquette, and folded his arms across his chest. 'So there you have it. If you're here investigating an individual, or the circus itself, I've just given you information that can be used against us. Yes, you were recognized on the midway, and yes, we had you followed. You see, you make all of us very nervous.'
'Luther,' I said, shaking my head, 'the INS doesn't use private investigators. I'm not here to check up on anyone.'
'I'm relieved to hear that.'
'What the hell is this, some kind of sanctuary movement for circus performers?'
'Precisely-if I understand correctly what you mean by 'sanctuary movement.' There is a great circus tradition
