“Can I smoke?” I asked the sheriff. “I’m gasping here.”
She gave me a thin smile.
“I don’t think anybody’s going to make you take it outside,” she said. “Just stay over this side of the room. And don’t set off the smoke alarm; we’ve got sprinklers in here, and getting wet in a storm isn’t my idea of a good time.”
She made to move off but the cap called her back.
“The sarge here has something to tell me. I think you’ll need to hear it,” he said.
I passed a smoke to the cap and lit us both up before starting.
“Yon thing in Siberia,” I said. “You remember the big dogs?”
“Dire wolves, is that not what the wee Russian called them?”
“Aye. Dire they were… or rather are. Unless I’m mistaken, that’s what we’re dealing with here. Same big fucking eyes, big fucking ears, big fucking teeth. Same big fuckers. Pardon my French,” I said, turning to the sheriff.
“I hear worse every Friday night when the bar closes,” she said. “But back up. Siberia?”
I let the cap take that one. He filled her in on some of the sorry tale; a Russian billionaire, a zoo of ice-age animals and shady doings with genetics and hormones, the whole shitty shebang. To her credit she didn’t laugh in our faces.
She nodded towards the man in the cot.
“And you think they’ve been doing something similar?”
“At least with the wolves, aye,” the cap replied.
That had me thinking about the other things we’d encountered back then but I pushed it away; there was enough to worry about here and now without speculating about even worse.
“If that’s true, we need to get out there,” the sheriff said.
“Aye. And sooner rather than later. Can we make it in this storm?”
“Captain,” she said, “if this keeps up we’d be lucky to reach the end of the street tonight. Our best hope is that it blows itself out and lets us make a try for it in the morning.”
“Big fucking howling things permitting,” I added, and got a thin smile from both of them. “Can we call for evac?”
This was addressed to the cap.
“I tried the sat-phone earlier. Couldn’t get a call through. I’ll keep trying.”
Davies called us over to the cot ten minutes later.
“He’s been bit, by something big,” he said, looking at the sheriff. “But I think you’d guessed that already. I’ve pumped him full of penicillin and given him a tetanus shot. He’s out cold. It’s anybody’s guess for how long.”
“Did he say anything?” the cap asked.
“Nope. I thought he was coming round when I was stitching the wound but it was just a wee flicker of the eyelids then he was under again. I’ll keep an eye on him, but I need a coffee and a smoke first, if that’s okay, Sarge?”
“Aye, away you go, lad. I’ll sit with him for a bit.”
The cap went with the sheriff as she did a round of the locals in the room. The rafters rattled as a fresh gust of wind howled above and the man on the cot moaned. I leaned forward, but he had gone quiet again almost as quickly. The adrenalin from the gunplay was wearing off now and my ears had stopped ringing but the memory of the gray beast launching itself at Jennings and Wilko was mixed up in my mind with the nightmares of Siberia. I’ve got a wee trick I use to keep stuff at bay when the quiet threatens to dredge it up. When Davies came back ten minutes later, I was singing Presley’s ‘Don’t be Cruel’ in my head; I’d have gone on to ‘Teddy Bear’ if he hadn’t turned up and still been back at the age of seven performing for my auld aunties, my happy place if you like. Don’t mock it if you haven’t tried it.
Davies checked on his patient.
“He’s more sleeping than unconscious I think,” he said. “I’ll take a spell, Sarge. I’ll give you a shout if he wakes up.”
As if replying to Davies’ voice, the man on the cot groaned and shifted. He opened his eyes and I could tell just by looking at him that there was a scream forming that would pierce the air if it came. I put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, you’re with friends,” I said.
It took him a wee while to focus on me.
“You’re English?” he said.
“Well, maybe more allies than friends then,” I replied, trying to keep things light. “We’re Scottish, but we’re here to help you anyway.”
He tried to sit up but pain hit him hard at the attempt, bringing sweat to his brow and an unhealthy pallor to his cheeks.
“I need to speak to someone in charge,” he said. “We’re in terrible danger.”
I placed his accent somewhere to the south and west of London. He was a long way from home, but then again, so was I.
“If you mean the wolves, we got them, at least the ones that were after you.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Only three? Then I’ll say again, we’re in terrible danger. I need to speak to someone in charge.”
This time he did manage to sit up, although it cost him a yelp of pain that was loud enough to catch the sheriff’s attention. She strode over with the cap beside her.
“Are you in charge?” the man asked.
“Yes, I’m the sheriff here.”
“Sheriff? I thought the military were here?”
“We are,” the cap added. “But this is her town. She’s in charge.”
“Has she signed the Official Secrets Act?”
The cap laughed.
“She’s right here. Why don’t you ask her?”
The man had got Sheriff Sue’s back up; I’d only known her for a few hours and I already knew that. Unfortunately, the man in the cot didn’t and he kept digging his own grave.
“I can’t talk to you,” he said, “I’m bound to the Act.”
“That’s fine by me, sir,” she said. “I carried you in here. I’ll just carry you out again and put you back where I found you.”
She got as far as bending over him and reaching out before he squealed, addressing me.
“Help me. You’re British.”
“Yes, but I’m also Scottish. Allies rather than friends, remember?”
The sheriff’s hands reached closer, the man searched our faces for help, realized he wasn’t going to get any, and finally, just in time gave up the fight; I don’t know if the sheriff had been serious but she gave every impression of being so. I resolved never to take her on at three card brag.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I know,” the man said. “But not here. Not in public like this. As I said, it’s top secret.”
We solved the quandary by dragging him, cot and all, over to the coffee area. I saw Wilko and Jennings standing off to one side, wondering whether they were invited, so I motioned that they should join us. We all got a brew, pulled some plastic chairs around and waited for the man to start. He asked for a smoke when he saw me lighting up and Davies allowed it.
“Just one. It’s your leg that’s bitten, not your lungs, but you’re not out of the woods yet.”
The man laughed at that then almost choked when he took a drag of the smoke.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I literally am out of the woods. It’s where I came from. But first, introductions. I’m Derek Watkins, and I’m a geneticist working for the British government.”
The sheriff snorted.
“If I’d known we were going to have so many damned Brits around tonight I’d have brought some tea.”
Watkins smiled thinly and continued.
“Five years back we were approached by certain parties who offered us rare genetic materials in exchange for our expertise…”
The cap interrupted him.
“Before you tell us again that you’re not allowed to divulge the info, let me do it for you. The guy offering the material was a Russian oligarch, he was building a special zoo in Siberia and needed your help and in return you got, I’m guessing, dire wolf embryos. You’ve raised those embryos, you’ve got a pack of the murderous fuckers by now, they’ve escaped and the shit has hit the fan. How am I doing so far?”