Chapter Sixteen
Melinda held the dustpan in front of the destroyed fridge in her lab room while Walog brushed the broken glass into it.
Mr. Kintu about threw his chair out the window when Melinda had told him of the damage to her lab and what she thought they were after this time. He’d profusely apologized for the facility’s inability to keep her lab safe and asked her if she felt threatened. She had to admit she felt safer when Hamel was close, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. Not like he was her bodyguard or anything.
She hadn’t seen him this morning and asked if he was coming in. Kintu gave her his cell phone and asked her to call Hamel while he visited the security department. Didn’t look like a friendly drop by to say hello.
She stopped by another lab and asked to store her vial with theirs until her fridge was fixed. The guys promised not to drink it—as long as it didn’t taste like beer. She smiled for the first time that morning. “No,” she said, “it’s mouse urine mixed with male bug bits.”
One of the guys smiled. “Sounds better than the beer.”
When she’d gotten back to her lab, one of the janitors had already wheeled his big gray trashcan in and was cleaning up the debris.
“Miss Caster,” he began, “why keep breaking your lab? Someone angry?”
“Please call me Melinda. I guess somebody wants what I’m working on badly.”
“Panya okay? No see,” he asked.
Oh, her mice. She had to bring them in. “I think so. I moved them last night and haven’t checked on them yet.”
He set the broom against a table. “Me help. Cage heavy for woman.” He started toward the door. That ruffled her feministic feathers, but she knew he was only trying to help. He followed her and carried back the cage. After he set it on the table in her lab, he stuck a finger through the wire meshing. “Hmmm. Not good.” He poked one of the small babies lying unnaturally still.
She came around the side and saw a second baby unmoving. She let out a sad sigh. Both the clairvoyant and telekinetic mice were dead. The baby monkeys had lived several months. She’d hoped to have more time with the mice. Did they have more than one ability? Could they have developed more? How powerful could the ability grow to? Would offspring be stronger or weaker?
So many questions left unanswered. Her eyes floated to the one baby remaining, running around, not knowing it was now an only child. Well, sort of. Technically, it had more than a dozen brothers and sisters elsewhere in the building.
“Miss Melinda, I take babies for you. Bad. Make sick.”
“Thank you, but not yet. I have to see why they died. I think their brains burned out.”
He looked at her, questioning expression on his face, as if he didn’t understand what she said. Or he did and thought she was nuts.
“Okay, you call me when.”
“Thank you.”
He gathered his broom and equipment and rolled his trashcan through the back hall door.
Melinda leaned against the table and blew out a breath. She called Dembe to see when she had time to run scans. One of the other techs was finishing up and she would be ready shortly. She could prep more analysis or trials, but she’d have to stop in the middle when Dembe was available.
Now what? It was too early for lunch. Since Hamel still hadn’t shown up, she dialed his number. After several rings, he picked up.
“Go away.”
Melinda snorted. “Nice, Doctor. Sporting a hangover from too much drinking last night?”
“Yeah, you could say that. They may as well have given me an IV so I could’ve taken it straight.”
“What’s the occasion? Or does Oversight require that type of work?”
“My job description mentions fieldwork, but doesn’t mention anything about the local flora or fauna.”
“You gotta stay out of those clubs, Doc. They’ll kill you.”
“No shit.”
“So, you coming in?”
“Of course. I gotta keep an eye on you.” Did she detect a bit of playfulness in his voice? And what was she doing joking around with him? That wasn’t like her. She didn’t like talking on the phone if she didn’t have something specific to say.
“Well, too late for that.”
He asked why, and she went into how the morning had been so far. To her, he didn’t sound happy at all. And the more she talked, the madder he got. She heard a door close through the phone line.
“I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere. In fact, stay in your lab. Don’t let anyone in.”
Was he serious? Did he think she was a child, unable to take care of herself? She blamed it on his being a male. She didn’t appreciate his demanding patronizing tone. “Listen here, buddy. No one has told me what to do since I left my parents’ house. And it won’t start here. I have mice brains to scan, and you can’t stop me.” Dear god, she sounded like a four-year-old having a tantrum. “I’ll see you when you get here.” She disconnected the line and crossed her arms. Men.
One more call, then she’d continue with her day. From her purse, she fished out the business card for the medical center she’d brought the jaguar to last night. She asked for Buga. When he picked up the phone, he said he was glad she called.
He told her that his grandfather came in sometime in the morning, mumbling that the animal was fine and had left the medical center. Buga laughed. “The cat may be fine, but he’ll have one hell of a hangover. I pumped enough anti serum in him to counteract a gallon of venom. I was hoping to take some pictures of the beautiful animal. But as my grandfather said, he let the cat loose.” He laughed again.
“Did he say something else, too? What are you laughing at?”
“Grandfather actually said he let the cat loose, reprimanding it for getting bitten and telling it not to do it again.”
Melinda smiled. “Like the cat could really understand him? That’s cute. He really cares for the animals, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” Buga said. “Almost too much. It kills him when poachers get in, take what they want, then leave the rest to rot. Things like that bring out the voodoo in him.”
“Voodoo? Is that part of him being a witch doctor?” Thinking back on the old man, she hadn’t expected him to be a witch doctor. For one thing, she didn’t think they believed in modern medical science. Obviously, that wasn’t true with this one.
Buga laughed again. “If you believe in that kind of thing. Grandfather gets out his herbs, rattles, and dead chicken blood and puts a ‘hex’ on the bad men so their exotic goods never make it into market to make them money.”
“That doesn’t seem too wise,” Melinda said. “Then they’ll just come back for another one.”
Buga cleared his throat and seemed to hesitate. “Well, there’s more to the hex, but I’m not going there. It seems to work, because I never see the same poachers twice.”
Melinda didn’t know what to think, except that this was getting weird. “So the cat is safe and back to where it wants to be, then?”
“Yes, everything should be fine. If you see it again, let me know how it’s doing. It is so rare to see a jaguar in this part of the world anymore. Too bad they aren’t native. They are beautiful.”
“I agree. I’ll look for him and see how he’s doing. He may not come back since he was released at your place, though. He’ll probably find somewhere around there to roam.” Melinda was surprised how sad this made her. “At least he’s safer on the refuge than wandering the woods.”
“Not from snakes.”
Melinda smiled. “True. Keep in touch.” She slid her phone into a pocket, grabbed the mouse cage, and left for Dembe’s lab.