Zero at the Bone (30 page)

He jerked his head up suddenly and said, “What was the name of the woman again? The one your father was making those payments to?”

“Dorothy Stranahan,” Katherine said.

“Stranahan.” He shook his head hard, like a dog with an earache. “It’s familiar, but I can’t quite place it.” He stretched his legs and brought his seat back up.

Katherine took her eyes off the road for a minute to look at him. “Familiar how?”

“Oh, somehow the name rings a bell.” He looked around and said, “Boy, is it dark! Where are we?”

“About ten miles from Kerrville. You don’t have to do this, you know. You could just fix the dosage now and show me how to use the dart gun. I’m a good shot. You could wait in the car.”

“Hell, no. I need the exercise. But, Katherine, you know this is a wild-goose chase, don’t you? I don’t want you to get your hopes up. The bongo’s been there for a month now. Chances are it’s been shot already. In which case it’s stuffed and hanging on some elegant wall in River Oaks. And even if it’s still there, odds are we won’t find it. I was at the ranch about ten years ago to vaccinate their aoudads. It’s a huge place. Needle in a goddamned haystack.”

“I know, Vic, but I’ve been thinking. If it’s still there, they wouldn’t let it out with the other antelopes, would they?”

“No. It’s too valuable. They’d have it confined somewhere.”

“And I don’t think they’d risk having it out in the open, do you?”

He thought for a moment. “Probably not.”

Her voice was getting animated as her excitement grew. They were only a few miles away. “So we’re looking for a shelter, a barn maybe. Vic, if we can find that bongo and get a picture of his ISIS number, then I can go to my grandmother with conclusive proof that some of the animals bought with foundation money are ending up at game ranches. I know you think I ought to take this to the police now, but—”

He broke in. “Just for the record, yes, I do. I think we should stop right now and call Sharb.”

“I know. But I can’t do anything without Anne Driscoll’s go-ahead. It’s her foundation. Her money. Her son.” She glanced over at him again. “And I keep wondering why my father didn’t go to the police.”

“Maybe he got killed before he had the chance to,” Vic said, “like we’re going to, if we wait too long.”

*   *   *

The wrought-iron arch over the stone gateposts said
RTY RANCH
in letters so ornate they looked more like Arabic than English. The heavy gate was closed and locked. That Katherine had expected. What she hadn’t expected was the fourteen-foot-high chain-link fence with a barbed-wire crest running behind the gate and encircling the entire property. She looked at it and sighed.

“It has to be that high to keep the deer in,” Vic said. “Must have cost a fortune. At least it isn’t electrified.” He reached to the back seat and hauled into his lap the knapsack he’d packed before leaving the house. “Keep driving. We’ll have to find a weak spot.”

As Katherine drove, he drew out of the pack a long pistol that looked like a toy. He pulled an aluminum dart with a yellow tuft at the end from the bag and fitted onto it a needle with a small barb on the end. Then he stuck it into the barrel of the pistol until it clicked. “It’s got a dose of M-99 big enough to bring down a bongo in a few seconds,” he said, “bigger dose than I’d usually use, but still in the safe range.” He stuck the pistol in his pants pocket. “In the unlikely event we find a bongo.”

When they came to the corner of the property, Vic said, “Can you switch this to four-wheel so we can turn off the road here?”

Katherine shifted and turned left onto a dirt track that ran parallel to the fence. They bounced along for about a mile before he said, “Whoah. Look at that big old tree. That’s what we’re looking for.” It was a towering oak on the opposite side of the fence, several of its gnarled branches reaching over the barbed-wire top. “Could you turn around and park the car so we’re right under it? As close to the fence as you can get.”

Katherine made a circle and maneuvered the car so it was directly under the main branch and almost touching the fence.

“I’m going to show you the only useful thing I learned in the army,” Vic said. He opened the door quietly, dragged his pack out, and began to unload it. First he pulled out a black leather jacket which he threw in to Katherine. “To cover your white blouse.” As she was putting it on, he handed her a flashlight. “For emergency use only.” Then he took out a neatly coiled rope and laid it on the roof of the car. “Ready?”

Katherine took a deep breath and slid out the passenger door, zipping the heavy jacket and slipping the car keys under the floor mat.

Vic slung his pack over one shoulder and climbed onto the hood of the car, and from there to the roof. He picked up the rope and stood on top of the car so his eyes were level with the barbed wire at the top of the fence. When he reached his arms overhead, he was able to grab the branch with both hands. He tested it by gradually putting his weight on it. Then he stretched one leg over to the fence, finding a toehold for his tennis shoe, and hoisted himself up, putting the other foot into the mesh and walking up the fence as he hauled with his arms. When he was high enough, he pulled himself onto the branch and threw a leg over it, careful to avoid the barbed wire.

Katherine, standing now on the car roof, looked up into the darkness. The figure in the tree, dressed all in black, dark skin and hair disappearing in the night, showed suddenly a flash of white teeth. Like the Cheshire cat, she thought.

He wrapped one end of the rope around the branch, tied a loop in the other end, and dropped it to her. “Around your waist,” he whispered. “Then do what I did. I’ll help.”

She slipped the loop around her waist and grabbed on to the branch, which she could just reach. She stuck a toe into the fence and began to climb. Vic tightened the rope and supported part of her weight as she walked up the fence and pulled herself up on the branch. As she did it, she thought that her three weeks in the snake pit had yielded some benefits; the heavy lifting had definitely improved her upper body strength.

Getting down the tree was much easier because there were several low branches on that side of the fence. Once on the ground, inside the ranch property, Katherine’s legs shook violently. Exertion. Fear. Anticipation. She wasn’t sure which.

Vic left the rope hanging from the tree branch and led off in the direction of the front gate. The sliver of moon gave just enough light for them to see major obstacles in front of them—mesquite clumps, trees, and an occasional prickly pear. When they had walked in silence for about ten minutes, Vic stopped and took hold of her arm. The lights of a building complex appeared through the trunks of a peach orchard. He knelt down and Katherine hunkered close to him. A big two-story house showed several lights inside. A huge flood illuminated the area in front. Behind it loomed a garage and some other small outbuildings. About a quarter of a mile back from those was a horseshoe-shaped complex of what looked like motel cabins.

He leaned over to her and whispered, his lips grazing her ear, “If I’m remembering right, most of the livestock’s in corrals and a barn back of the cabins. Let’s look.”

He rose and led the way, skirting the lighted area and heading toward the back of the complex.

In the dark they could just make out a long low building with a fenced-in area at one end. Katherine smelled the horses before she saw them standing in the corral. There was a lot of snorting and stomping of hooves as the horses caught their scent. Vic gave them a wide berth. “I think there’s a barn back here,” he whispered. After a few minutes of walking along an unpaved track, a huge barn loomed against the dark sky. “In here,” he said.

They approached silently. The big double doors were latched but not locked. Vic lifted the latch and dragged the door open a crack so they could squeeze through. Inside was total darkness. The warm rich smell of manure engulfed them. Vic switched on his flashlight and shone the beam around. Stalls around the sides contained cows and a few horses. In one large stall, a flock of sheep looked back at them with sleepy eyes. Not an exotic animal in the place.

“Strike one,” Vic whispered in her ear.

They closed the door behind them and headed back toward the stable they had already bypassed. “I don’t like this,” Vic whispered. “The horses are jumpy and it’s close to the house. But these stalls are a possibility.”

They walked along the row of stalls built of rough, weathered boards. Dutch doors opened at the tops. They glanced in each door. Most contained a single horse. One held a goat which let out a loud
maaa
as they passed. When they got to the end, they circled the corral. A few of the outdoor horses jumped and whinnied as they passed.

They stopped to listen. Nothing.

They walked down the other side of the long stable, looking in each stall. As they approached the last stall, a distant barking started from the direction of the house.

“Oh, shit,” Vic said. He grabbed Katherine’s arm and headed back toward the barn at a fast walk.

The barking intensified. It was coming toward them.

Katherine couldn’t see them in the darkness, but she could hear. Thudding paws. Panting. Baying. “There are two of them,” Katherine whispered, “and they’re big—Dobermans, I think.”

She looked around for a tree. Anything they could climb. But the landscape was bare. And the barn was too far.

Vic broke into a run. Katherine reached out for his arm. “Don’t run, Vic. Makes it worse.”

The barking was just yards away now.

They turned and saw the two dark shapes hurtling toward them, baying and slavering. Vic pulled the dart gun from his pocket. “I can only get one; takes several minutes to reload.”

Katherine unzipped the jacket, ripped it off, and wrapped it around her left arm as she turned to face the two dogs bearing down on them.

Vic moved forward a step. As the first dog lunged at him, he stepped to the side and fired. The dart hit flesh with a soft,
pfut.
The dog yipped and swerved. As it turned to attack again, it staggered and collapsed to the ground. A large rottweiler with a thick studded collar.

The second dog flew at Katherine. She extended her wrapped arm in front of her body and said in her trainer’s voice, “Release, sir.” It didn’t work. With a growl, the dog grabbed the padded arm in his teeth and clamped down. Then he shook his head from side to side, snarling with fury, as if he were trying to rip her arm from its socket. Katherine needed all her strength to keep holding the arm in front of her. She’d been attacked by dogs before and had the scars to prove it, but never like this, in the dark. She knew the teeth would soon penetrate the thick leather and pierce the flesh of her arm. She glanced desperately to Vic. He was digging in his back pack, scrambling to reload the dart gun.

A door slammed in the distance. A man’s voice called, “Diablo! Jeff! Come here, you clowns.”

The dog dragged down on Katherine’s arm with all his weight, snarling and whimpering with the effort. Just as she felt the prick of a fang through the fabric, she was pulled to her knees by the dog’s weight.

The man’s voice called out again, “Who’s there?” Another door slammed. Two more voices spoke.

Then she heard the
pfut
of the dart pistol. The dog released its grip on her arm. A blessed reprieve. She felt she could float off the ground now, run forever without that weight dragging her down.

Vic grabbed his pack and they sprinted away from the approaching voices. They streaked past the barn and turned into the woods. Toward the car. Vic ran at full speed. His knapsack bounced on his back. The dart gun was still in his hand.

Katherine kept up, but barely. Her lungs burned with the effort. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground.

She heard the cry of surprise when the men found the sleeping dogs. Then she heard nothing but Vic’s labored breathing ahead and her own gasps. After a few minutes, she fell behind. Vic glanced back and slowed down to a trot, waiting for her to catch up. After another minute they slowed to a walk and listened for the sounds of pursuit.

Nothing. No voices behind them. No barking. They’d gotten away.

Now all they had to do was get back over the fence.

But they’d failed. She should have known it was impossible. They were just lucky to get away unhurt.

“Katherine,” Vic whispered, through his gasps for breath, “let’s get out while we can.”

She nodded her agreement, too short of breath to speak.

They picked up their pace, heading back to the fence.

A minute later, Katherine glimpsed a dark shape off to the left.

She pointed. “Look.”

It was a small structure standing by itself.

Vic put his sweaty cheek down close to hers. “Want to check it out? It’s taking a chance. They’ll try to find us.”

“Let’s just look,” Katherine rasped.

He turned to glance behind. “Okay. A quick one.”

As they approached, the structure took the shape of a small aluminum siding barn with a corral at the back.

They tried the door, but it was locked tight with a huge padlock. “Let’s go,” Vic said, pulling her back the way they had come.

“Wait.” She ran around to the side. The only break in the aluminum wall was one small window, five feet off the ground.

Katherine put her head close to look at it. It was open a crack. She stuck her fingers in and lifted. It opened smoothly.

Vic handed her his pack. “Pass this through when I get in.” He hoisted himself up to the window and squeezed through. As he dropped inside, he let out a gasp of alarm or surprise. Katherine held the backpack up to the window. Vic pulled it through.

Katherine hoisted herself up into the window frame. It was so dark inside she could see nothing. She hesitated.

Vic switched on his flashlight. The beam illuminated one large amber eye, which repelled the light, casting it back off an opaque, reflective disk that glowed chartreuse behind the amber lens. The face around the eye was scarred and mangled. On the broad, flat nose and under the closed eye, dozens of black scars striped the tawny fur. Half of one ear was ripped away. The black mane was patchy and littered with wood shavings. The old lion looked placidly at Vic and tried to stand up, but the cage was so small, he had to crouch. He rubbed his side along the wire and purred as Vic pressed his hand against the wire mesh.