"Welcome to my operating room," he said. "I've been performing a little post-mortem on our victim of last night."
Napoleon looked at the gory mess on the table and felt just a little ill. Illya noticed and smiled. "Sorry about the mess, Napoleon. But remember, you look even worse than that inside."
"It should stay inside where it belongs. All right, Doctor Crippen, what knowledge have you added to the field of medical science today?"
"Medical science has not benefited from this investigation, but criminology may have been advanced to some extent." He waved his hand over a number of what were to Napoleon undistinguishable lumps of meat, and picked one up.
"Notice the leg muscles," he said seriously. He prodded the meat with a short skewer, and separated some of the fibers. "See that?"
Napoleon saw only raw meat with a few streaks and lumps of yellow in it, and said so.
"Exactly. The yellow is fat. Fat? In a wild wolf? And especially in the leg muscles?" Illya shook his head, put down the leg, and picked up something else. "The stomach," he said. "Most interesting." With bare fingers he pulled apart an incision and pointed to a horrid-looking mass. "Remains of the last meal."
Napoleon felt even more ill, and made an inarticulate comment to that effect. "Yeuchh," he said.
"Look," Illya insisted. "Cereal grains. A wolf with cereal grains in its stomach?"
Napoleon turned away and stared determinedly out the window at a bare tree. "It's been a hard winter."
"Don't faint yet, Napoleon," said Illya. "You haven't seen my prize exhibit."
He took a deep breath and looked around again. The Russian was holding a thing that Napoleon finally recognized, though it was covered with blood and somewhat cut up. It was white and convoluted, and filled Illya's hand as he held it out.
"It's the brain," said Napoleon.
"That's right, Napoleon, it's the brain," said Illya, too pleased to contain his enthusiasm. "But this is not a nerve." And his free hand held up something about a foot long, limp and shiny. It was a copper wire.
Napoleon looked at it closely, forgetting his queasiness in a suddenly awakened fascination. The wire ran to the surface of the brain and ended there in a small patch of off-white plastic which he hadn't noticed before. Slowly he looked up at Illya, his mouth open slightly.
Illya nodded. "The plastic is apparently some kind of solid-state radio receiver." He lifted it from the brain as he spoke, revealing two short wires descending from it. "These two leads were implanted in the brain. I'm afraid my knowledge of vulpine anatomy stops there, but if the wolf's brain is analogous to a human brain, they were planted in the pleasure center and the pain center respectively. Do you remember that report we had some months ago on experimentation with pleasure-pain stimulus?"
He replaced the brain on the table and eased himself onto a convenient stool as Napoleon nodded slowly, awareness growing within him.
"Some scientist had a collie with a radio-controlled pleasure-pain stimulator, and he could train it to do all sorts of things with no more cue than a touch of the transmitter button. And there was a diagram of how it could be planted in the human brain...."
"That's exactly correct, Napoleon. There wasn't a diagram of how it was implanted in the collie—if there had been, I could be one hundred percent sure, instead of ninety-five percent. But this is close enough. That wolf was kept in a cage or pen, or somewhere where he couldn't get as much exercise as he should have—and he got a few fat deposits in his legs, because he was there a while. And while he was there they fed him on commercial—probably canned—dog food. Poor beast. Most dog food has cereal added as filler and for some of the vitamins. But a wolf in the wild would starve before eating grain.
"And finally, he had this device implanted in his skull. The operation is not an easy one at all, and I should like to meet the surgeon who performed it successfully on at least thirty wolves."
Napoleon considered all the implications of the situation, and went over them very slowly. "Somebody kept these wolves penned, fed them, and made very efficient hunting machines out of them." He looked up. "I smell a rat, Illya—a rat with feathers."
Illya nodded. "Remote-controlled wolves, a false back to the cave, a flying vampire—yes. And I think we will know in a very short time the secrets behind their other little tricks."
Zoltan spoke for the first time. "Do you know who is responsible for these monstrous things?"
"Let's say we are fairly certain. The wolf has no brand on his flank, and there is no maker's mark on the receiver here, but to the trained eye it speaks as loudly as an unsigned Chagall to a student of modern art."
"What bothers me," said Napoleon slowly, "is why they didn't kill us. That first night in the forest—or last night, if they weren't ready then. And, most especially, why was the Count driven off by Hanevitch's crucifix trick when your bullets didn't affect him?"
Illya's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Why? I think we may have an interview with Colonel Hanevitch before we go home again. I wonder if he knows more about this than he has seen fit to tell...."
* * *
The interview with Hanevitch was postponed in favor of more immediate problems. Even with Napoleon and Hilda helping, the kitchen took a while to clean up. And by the time they had finished, Illya was more cautious.
"On the other hand," he said, "a move at Hanevitch now could tip off the enemy. Better, I think, we should strike directly at their nest."
"By going in through that false-front cave and following the yellow chalk marks back to their source?" asked Napoleon.
"Exactly. Zoltan, did you see any way the rock could be opened from inside the cave?"
"We were in no hurry—I experimented with the operation of the secret entrance for some minutes and solved all its secrets."
"Are you game to come with us on a full-scale invasion tonight?"
"On the condition that we stay close enough together that we do not get separated again."
"I'm coming too," said Hilda. "If this is what I think it is, you'll need everybody who can handle a gun."
Zoltan frowned. "I do not think you should. This is not a proper business for a young lady to be involved with."
"But I am involved! Who is more involved than I am? I found Carl's body; I was almost killed by that vampire—except that he wasn't really, I suppose, but I thought he was at the time. No one has more right than I to be in on the final attack. What about you?" she finished aggressively.
Zoltan drew himself up. "They are using my castle and my name," he said. "Your life may have been in danger, but my family honor means more to me than my life."
Napoleon looked at Illya. "I feel kind of left out," he said. "I'm just doing it because it's a job. Maybe we should stay here and let them go."
Hilda said, "But you were chased by those wolves, and they almost killed you."
Napoleon shrugged. "People try to kill me on just about every assignment I get. You get used to it after a while."
"I don't know whether I ever could."