Sturm nodded slowly, as if making up his mind. “So here’s the deal. Let us put our trust in God, that he alone in his wisdom and eternal grace will iron everything out. Amen. Everyone here,” Sturm saluted them with his glass, “has landed themselves a genuine lethal killing machine.” Everyone took a drink. “Sometimes two or three. At the moment, we have how many cats left, Frank?”
“You counting Lady and Princess?”
“No.”
“Seven.”
“Seven.” Sturm looked at the twenty or so hunters before him. “Guess how many sheep we got?”
“Plenty?” Someone asked hopefully near the kitchen tent.
“Plenty,” Sturm said, laughing. “You’re goddamn right. Any time you fellas want to see what your bullet will do on living flesh and blood, you let me know. It ain’t exactly like shooting a lethal killing machine, but it ain’t bad for shits and grins. I’m saying we got seven cats left. It’s goddamn time we give these lethal killing machines a chance to do what they do best. Tomorrow, gentlemen. Tomorrow. Until then, good night.” Sturm tipped his cowboy hat at the hunters and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt as the sky grew darker. “Frank, Theo, Jack. Like a word, inside.”
Frank felt the last bite of lion steak catch in the back of his throat. Theo, on his right, stood immediately, holding his plate as he rose, shoveling food into his mouth. Zucchini fell on the table, Frank’s plate, and the ground. Theo kicked his chair over, dropped the plate upside down on the table, and followed his dad.
* * * * *
Jack was already waiting up at the back door, holding it open when Frank got there. Frank stepped into the air-conditioned bliss and knew without asking that they were meeting in Sturm’s office. Frank and Theo sat, while Jack found a book, leaned against the bookshelf, and started reading.
“Fuck me,” Sturm said, sinking into his chair. He took off his cowboy hat and threw it on the vast desk. “Never thought I’d come across something like that pervert in my time. No goddamn chance. Jesus Christ.” Sturm looked like he wanted to spit on the floor for a second, swallowed, and coughed. “Still, it’s done.” He thumped his thumb against his Copenhagen can, put a healthy pinch into his bottom lip, and leaned back. “Jesus. Frank. We got seven left. What shape are they in? I mean, they ain’t half dead, are they?”
“Not too bad, no. Six are solid. They’re eating, pacing, stool looks good. They’re sharp. The other one, well, she’s fighting something. She’s on antibiotics, but hell, I don’t know.”
“Six. Okay. Good.” He leaned forward, large hands flat on the desk. “What I have to say next stays in this room. Understood?” Frank got the feeling that even though Sturm glanced at Jack and Theo as well, Sturm was really only talking to him. Frank nodded and Jack said, “’Course.” Theo just looked bored.
“We’re gonna see if we can’t wring a little more cash out of these boys. I know for a fact that a couple of ’em are ready to head home tomorrow. Hell, they shot their cat, why shouldn’t they? Well, Theo here had an idea, and a damned good one at that.” Sturm’s icy eyes found Frank. “You oughta see their faces when Lady and Princess go after a sheep. Like a bunch of little boys on Christmas morning. I’m telling you, they can’t get enough of it.”
“You want to have the rest of the cats go after more sheep?” Frank asked.
“Hell, we’re gonna do that anyway, with Lady and Princess. No, Theo thought of something better. Something a little more entertaining. How’re those dogs doing?”
“What dogs?” Frank asked, knowing goddamn well what Sturm meant.
“The pound. Those strays at the hospital.”
“What about ’em?”
“How’s their health? How much fight they got left?”
“Plenty. Enough to get loose.”
Sturm knocked on the desk once. “They got loose?” He leaned to the side, and spit into an old fashioned brass spittoon.
Frank nodded and spread his hands, willing his face to sag just a hair more, letting the left corner of his mouth get in the way of a couple of the words, just a bit, just enough to remind Sturm that Frank had problems. “Part of the wire was coming loose in the corner, and I guess I didn’t notice. Guess they forced it even more, got loose.”
“All of ’em got through some little hole,” Theo demanded.
“Yeah.”
“How’d they get through the door?” Sturm asked. “They get out of their cage, that’s one thing. But they should still be inside that room. How’d they get out of the second door? Or did they get into the hospital itself?”
“No, they got out through the back door there, out to the employee parking lot. It was open when I got back there.”
“When was this?”
“Two nights ago, I think.” Frank didn’t have to say that he wasn’t the only one with access to the vet hospital. Everyone, Sturm and Theo, Jack and Joe, even Chuck, had keys to the vet hospital. Frank had come back to find the front door unlocked, even wide open, a couple of times.
“Did you leave the door open, Frank?”
Frank shrugged. “I really don’t remember leaving it open. Hell, I never hardly use the back door there. I use the other one, off the front office.”
Sturm knocked on the desk again, like he was waiting for someone to knock back. “Well. They scatter?”
“Not yet. I been feeding ’em.”
“Fuck son. Why didn’t you just say so?” Sturm spread his arms and raised the muscles above his eyes, not really eyebrows anymore, more like a couple of fat nightcrawlers under a thin stretch of skin. “So when were you gonna tell me about this?” He waited.
Frank’s words came out halting and stiff. “Things have been kind of busy. I wasn’t prepared for that business with the monkey. Give me enough time and we can prepare something properly. I need a bit to think some of these things through. What would you like to do with the dogs?”
The nightcrawlers relaxed and Sturm’s arms came to rest on his desk once again. “I want to pit three dogs against the most vicious lioness you can get. On the auction yard floor, tomorrow night.”
“Is there gambling?”
“You bet your ass.”
“Who’s gonna win?”
“We are. Here’s how it’s going to happen—that girl, she’s gonna take on one dog for round one. Two dogs for round two. Three for round three. And so on. Until that round when there’s just two many damn dogs and that’s it. You’re gonna make it look like she can go strong ‘til round five, but it’s gonna end in round four. You ain’t still here ’cause of your good looks, son. So you tell me. What do you need?”
Frank was quiet for a while. “I don’t know if they’ll fight. The dogs and the cat.”
“Son, I can make any of these animals do any damn thing I want. You watch. They’ll fight. We got mace and pepper spray and cattleprods and pitchforks. We got all kinds of persuaders. You add all them together and you got yourself a real humdinger of a fight all right. No, that I ain’t worried too much about that. These dogs we got, these dogs from the pound, they ain’t much for fighting. I figure that cat, if provoked enough, it’ll tear ’em apart. No, they’re just practice. We’re gonna see how fast that cat can take care of ’em tonight. Say, ten?”
Frank said, “Yeah.”
* * * * *
They caught six of the pound dogs. Five were the biggest dogs left, but the sixth, the tiny mutt that darted forward to snap and bark, Sturm wanted that one special. They locked the dogs in the horse trailer and took them up to the auction yard.
The last time Frank had been in the main room of the auction yard was back on the night Sturm had fought the lioness. Now it was encircled with long sheets of chain-link fence; the top was covered as well, again with stretches of chain-link fence, held up by four poles, providing about five and half feet of clearance inside. Sturm could walk around in the center ring standing up straight, but Frank had to hunch over.