“No reporters, Theo.”
“Why not?”
“Because if they find out about Steve, they’ll put him in a cage or kill him. No reporters. No cameras.” She gripped his shoulder until it hurt and tears welled up in her eyes. “Please.”
Theo nodded. “Gabe,” he said into the phone, “Forget the reporters. No news people. No cameras. You guys come, though. I need witnesses here that don’t work for Burton.”
“You said there were a bunch of people there?”
“They’re all out of it, I don’t think they’re worth a damn. Besides, they’re naked.”
There was a pause. Gabe said, “Why are they naked?”
Theo looked to Molly, “Why are they naked?”
“To deter them from coming into the cave.”
“To deter them from coming into the cave,” Theo said into the phone.
“Well, that didn’t work very well, did it?” Gabe said. “Why didn’t she scare them off with the creature?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you, Gabe. They’re here to be with the creature.”
“Fascinating. And Molly has control over him?”
Theo looked at the dragon spit running down his jeans. “Not exactly. Gabe, please, bring Val and get your ass up here. You can claim to be here for scientific reasons or something. Val can say she’s a trained hostage ne-gotiator. These people are her patients; that should help her credibility. Bring as many people as you can.”
Molly grabbed Theo’s arm again and shook her head. “Just the people who already know.”
Theo cursed under his breath. “Scratch that, Gabe. Just you and Val. Don’t tell anyone else.”
“Mavis and Howard and Catfish know already.”
“Just them. Please, Gabe, borrow Mavis’s car and get up here.”
“Theo, this isn’t going to help you much. We might keep you from getting killed, but Burton is still going to arrest you guys. You know it. And once he gets you in his jail, well, you know.”
“One thing at a time.”
“Theo, we’ve got to preserve that creature. This is the greatest…”
“Gabe,” Theo interrupted. “I’m trying to preserve my ass. Get going, please.”
“You’ve got to get that creature out of there, Theo. They might not shoot you if there are witnesses, but they won’t let the creature go.”
“He won’t move. He’s in the back of the cave, sulking.”
“Sulking?”
“I don’t know, Gabe. Just come, okay.” Theo disconnected and sat down. To Molly he said, “Gabe’s right. We may just be delaying the inevitable by bringing in witnesses. Maybe we should rush Burton before SWAT gets here.”
Molly picked up the AK-47 from the floor, released the clip and tilted it so Theo could see it was empty. “Bad idea.”
“Hostage negotiator?” Val Riordan said. “I did my residency in eating disorders. The closest I’ve ever come to a hostage negotiation is talking a sugar-jagged actress out of purging fourteen quarts of Ben & Jerry’s Monkey Chunks after she lost her part on ‘Baywatch.’”
“That counts,” said Gabe. He’d related everything that Theo had told him and was ready to run to the rescue, but Val was reluctant.
“I believe the flavor is Chunky Monkey,” H.P. said.
“Whatever,” said Val. “I don’t see why Theo needs us if he’s got a whole cave full of my patients.”
Gabe was trying to be patient, but he could feel a clock ticking in the back of his brain, each tick taking away his chance to save his friend and lay eyes on a living specimen from the Cretaceous period. “I told you, Theo says they’re out of it.”
“Perfectly logical,” said H.P.
“How so?” asked Val, obviously irritated at the stuffy restaurateur’s tone.
“The tradition of making sacrifice is as old as man. It may be more than just a tradition. The Babylonians sacrificed to the serpent, Tiamet, the Aztecs and Mayans sacrificed to serpent gods. Perhaps this creature was the serpent to which they sacrificed.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Val said. “This thing eats people.”
H.P. chuckled, “People have been loving vengeful gods for thousands of years. Who’s to say it isn’t the vengeance that inspires that love? Perhaps, as Dr. Fenton has pointed out, there is some symbiotic relationship between the hunting habits of this creature and the brain chemistry of its prey. Perhaps it inspires love as well as sexual stimulation. That feeling needn’t be reciprocal, you know. He could be as oblivious to his worshippers as any other god. He takes the sacrifices as his due, with no responsibility on his part.”
“That’s a steamin bag of dog snot if I ever heard it,” Catfish spouted. “I been near this thing and it ain’t never done nothin but scare the daylights out of me.”
“Is that right, Mr. Fish?” H.P. said. “Isn’t it true that your fear of this creature has inspired a lifelong career in music? Perhaps you owe thanks to this beast.”
“I owe ya’ll a ride to the booby hatch, thass what I owe.”
“Enough!” Gabe shouted. “I’m going. You can come or you can stay, but I’m going to help Theo and see if I can keep that creature alive. Mavis, can I borrow your car?”
Mavis threw her keys on the bar. “Wish I was going with you, kid.”
“May I join you?” H.P. asked.
Gabe nodded and looked at Val. “They are your patients.”
She pressed her back against the bar. “This is all going to blow up, and when it all comes out, I’m going to go to jail. I should help with that?“
“Yes,” said Gabe. “Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do, and because it’s important to me and you love me.” Val stared at him, then dragged her purse off the bar. “I’ll go, but you will all be getting hate mail from me when I’m in jail.” Mavis looked at Catfish. “Well?”
“Ya’ll go on. I got the Blues on me.” They started out the door. “Don’t you worry, honey,” Mavis called after them. “You’re not going to jail. Mavis will see to it.”
Twenty-nine
Up until the time that Steve had come to town, the most fearsome prehistoric beast on the Central Coast was Mavis Sand’s 1956 Cadillac convertible. It was lemon-pie yellow with a great chrome grill that seemed to slurp at the road as it passed and gold-plated curb feelers that vibrated in the wind like spring-loaded whiskers. The daytime regulars called it the “Banana” and in a fit of ambition had once even fashioned a giant blue Chiquita emblem, which they stuck on the trunk lid while Mavis was working. “Well,” Mavis said, more than somewhat surprised by their efforts, “it ain’t the first banana I’ve rode, but it takes the size record by at least a foot.”
Even in his youth, Gabe had never driven anything like the Banana before. It steered like a barge and it rocked and lurched over dips and potholes like a foundering scow. Gabe had activated the electric top when they’d first climbed in and hadn’t figured out how to put it back up.
Gabe spotted Val’s Mercedes parked on the side of a hill off the main ranch road. There were six other vehicles parked next to it, all four-wheel-drive sport utility vehicles: two Blazers and two larger Suburbans. A group of men in black jumpsuits were standing by the vehicles, the tallest watching them through binoculars and talking on a radio or cell phone.
“Maybe we should have taken a more inconspicuous vehicle,” Gabe said.
“Why didn’t we take your car, Howard?” Val asked. She was slouched in the passenger seat.
Howard sat in the back, as stiff as a mannequin, squinting as if this was his first exposure ever to sunlight. “I own a Jaguar. Superior coach works, none like them in the world outside of Bentley and Rolls. Walnut burl on all the interior surfaces.”
“Doesn’t run, huh?”
“Sorry,” said Howard.
Gabe stopped the Banana at the cattle gate. “What should I do? They’re watching us.”