Invasion (12 page)

From behind the building Beau could hear continuous barking. Inside Beau confronted a secretary, told her what he wanted, and was asked to sit in a small waiting area. Beau could have read while he waited, but instead he listened intently to the barking, even the intermittent meow of some cats. He thought it was a strange way to communicate.

“My name is Tad Secolow,” a man said, interrupting Beau’s thoughts. “I understand you are looking for a dog.”

“That’s right,” Beau said, getting to his feet.

“You’ve come to the right place,” Tad said. “We’ve got just about any breed you might be looking for. The fact that you are willing to give a home to a full-grown dog gives you a larger selection than if you were intent on a puppy. Do you have an idea of the breed?”

“Nope,” Beau said. “But I’ll know what I want when I see it.”

“Excuse me?” Tad said.

“I said I’ll recognize which animal I want when I spot it,” Beau repeated.

“Do you want to look at photos first?” Tad asked. “We have pictures of all the dogs that are available.”

“I’d prefer to see the animals themselves,” Beau said.

“Okay,” Tad said agreeably. He escorted Beau past the secretary and through the rear of the building that was filled with animal cages. It had a mild barnyard smell that competed with a cloying odor of deodorant. Tad explained that the dogs housed inside were being treated by the vet who came every other day. Most of these dogs weren’t barking. Some looked ill.

The back yard of the shelter had rows of chain-link cages. Down the center were two long runs enclosed with chain-link fences. The floor of the whole complex was concrete. Coils of hose were stacked against the back of the building.

Tad led Beau down the first aisle. The dogs barked wildly at the sight of them. Tad maintained a running commentary on the pluses of each breed they passed. He paused longest at a cage that housed a standard poodle. It was a silver-gray color with dark, pleading eyes. It seemed to understand the urgency of its plight.

Beau shook his head, and they moved on.

While Tad was discussing the good qualities of a black Lab, Beau stopped and gazed in at a large, powerful, fawn-colored dog who returned his stare with mild curiosity.

“How about this one?” Beau asked.

Tad raised his eyebrows when he saw which dog Beau was referring to. “That’s a beautiful animal,” he said. “But he’s big and very strong. Are you interested in a dog that large?”

“What’s the breed?” Beau asked.

“Bullmastiff,” Tad said. “People are generally afraid of them because of their size, and this guy probably could
take your arm off if he were so inclined. But he seems to have a good disposition. The word ‘mastiff’ actually comes from a Latin word that means ‘tame.’”

“How come this dog is here?” Beau asked.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Tad said. “The previous owners had an unexpected child. They were afraid of the dog’s reaction and didn’t want to take a chance. The dog loves to hunt small game.”

“Open the door,” Beau suggested. “Let’s see if we get along.”

“Let me get a choke collar,” Tad said. He went back and disappeared inside the building.

Beau bent down and opened a small feeding door. The dog got up from where he was sitting against the back of the cage and came over to smell Beau’s hand. His tail wagged tentatively.

Reaching into his pocket Beau pulled out another of his black discs. Holding it between his thumb and index finger with the index finger on the top of the dome, he pressed it against the dog’s shoulder. Almost immediately the dog let out a muffled yelp and took a step back. He tilted his head questioningly.

Beau pocketed the disc just as Tad reappeared with the leash.

“Did he yelp?” Tad asked as he joined Beau.

“I guess I was scratching him too hard,” Beau said.

Tad opened the door to the cage. For a moment the dog hesitated, looking back and forth between the two humans.

“Come on, big boy,” Tad said. “For the size of you, you shouldn’t be so hesitant.”

“What’s his name?” Beau asked.

“King,” Tad said. “Actually it’s King Arthur. But that’s going a bit far. Can you imagine trying to yell ‘King Arthur’ out your back door?”

“King’s a good name,” Beau said.

Tad got the collar on King and led him out of the cage. Beau reached out to pet him, but King hung back.

“Come on, King!” Tad complained. “Here’s your big chance. Don’t blow it.”

“It’s okay,” Beau said. “I like him. I think he’s perfect.”

“Does that mean you’ll take him?” Tad asked.

“Absolutely,” Beau said. He took the leash, then squatted down and gave King a few pats on the head. King’s tail slowly rose and then began to wag.

“I DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME,” CASSY SAID TO PITT. THEY
were walking down the corridor from the emergency room, heading toward the student overnight ward. “I’ve only got an hour between classes.”

“This will only take a minute,” Pitt said. “I just hope we are not too late.”

They arrived at the room that Beau had occupied. Unfortunately for the moment they couldn’t enter. Two workmen were struggling to carry out the twisted, disassembled bed.

“Look at the headboard,” Pitt said.

“Weird,” Cassey said. “It does look like it melted.”

As soon as they could they stepped inside. Additional workmen were busy removing other warped fixtures including the metal supports for the suspended ceiling. Someone else was reglazing the window.

“Do they have any idea of what happened yet?” Cassy asked.

“Not a clue,” Pitt said. “After the autopsy there was a short-lived scare about radiation, but the room and the general area was exhaustively checked and there wasn’t any.”

“Do you think there is any connection between all this and the way Beau has been acting?” Cassy asked.

“That’s why I wanted you to see this,” Pitt said. “I can’t imagine how, but after you told me he’d been acting differently, I started thinking. After all, he did occupy this room the afternoon before all this happened.”

“It is strange,” Cassy said. She walked over to look at the twisted arm that previously held the TV. It was as bizarre as the head of the bed. Just as she was about to rejoin Pitt, her eyes happened to meet those of the man replacing the glass.

The workman stared at Cassy for a beat, then eyed her body lasciviously, much the same way Mr. Partridge had leered at her the night before.

Cassy stepped over to Pitt and tugged at his sleeve. He was looking up at the institutional clock on the wall. He’d noticed that the hands had fallen off.

“Let’s get out of here,” Cassy said. She made a beeline for the door.

Out in the hall Pitt caught up to her. “Hey, slow down,” he said.

Cassy slowed. “Did you see the way that man at the window looked at me?” she demanded.

“No, I didn’t,” Pitt said. “What did he do?”

“He was like Partridge last night,” Cassy said. “What is
it with these men? It’s as if they are reverting to adolescent behavior.”

“Aren’t construction workers famous for that?” Pitt asked.

“It was more than the proverbial cat-whistle and ‘hey baby,’” Cassy said. “This was more like visual rape. Maybe I can’t explain it to you. But a woman would know what I’m talking about. It’s unpleasant, even frightening.”

“You want me to go back in there and confront him?” Pitt asked.

Cassy shot him an “are you crazy” look. “Don’t be silly,” she said.

They got back to the ER.

“Well, I got to get to school,” Cassy said. “Thanks for inviting me over here, although seeing that room has hardly made me feel any better. I don’t know what to make of all this.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Pitt said. “Today is the day Beau and I play our three-on-three basketball. It will give me an opportunity to ask him what’s up.”

“Don’t mention that I said anything about sex,” Cassy said.

“Of course not,” Pitt said. “I’ll use the playing hooky to start things off. Then I’ll tell him straight out that last night at dinner and when we were walking around, he wasn’t the Beau I know. I mean the difference is subtle, but it’s real.”

“You’ll let me know what he says?” Cassy asked.

“Absolutely,” Pitt said.

THE SQUAD ROOM AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS WAS ALWAYS
busy, especially around noon. But Jesse Kemper was
accustomed to the bustle and could easily ignore it. His desk was in the back, against the glass wall that separated the captain’s office from the main room.

Jesse was reading the preliminary autopsy report that Dr. Curtis Lapree had sent over. Jesse didn’t like it one bit.

“Doc is still sticking to the idea of radiation poisoning,” Jesse called out to Vince, who was at the coffee machine. Vince drank on average fifteen cups a day.

“Did you let him know there was no radiation at the scene?” Vince asked.

“Of course I told him,” Jesse said irritably. He tossed the single-page report on the desk and picked up the photo of Charlie Arnold that showed the hole through his hand. Jesse scratched the top of his head where his hair was thinning while he studied the picture. It was one of the strangest things he’d ever seen.

Vince came over to Jesse’s desk. His teaspoon clanked against the side of his cup as he stirred.

“This has to be the weirdest damn case,” Jesse complained. “I keep seeing in my mind’s eye the appearance of that room and ask how.”

“Any news from that doctor lady about the science types she was going to have examine the scene?” Vince asked.

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “She called and said that no one had any bright ideas. She did say that one of the physicists discovered the metal in the room was magnetized.”

“So what does that mean?” Vince asked.

“Not much to me,” Jesse admitted. “I called Doc Lapree and told him. His response was that lightning can do that.”

“But everybody agrees there wasn’t any lightning,” Vince said.

“Exactly,” Jesse said. “So we’re back to square one.”

Jesse’s phone rang. He ignored it, so Vince picked it up.

Jesse rotated himself around in his swivel chair, tossing the photo of Charlie’s hand over his shoulder in the process. It landed back on the desk amid the rest of the clutter. Jesse was exasperated. He still didn’t know if he were dealing with a crime or an act of nature. Absently he heard Vince talking on the phone, saying “yeah” over and over. Vince concluded by saying: “Okay, I’ll tell him. Thanks for calling, Doc.”

Before Jesse could spin back around his eye caught two uniformed officers coming out of the captain’s office. What had attracted his attention was that both of them looked terrible, almost as pale as Charlie Arnold in the photo Jesse’d just thrown over his shoulder. The officers were coughing and sneezing like they had the plague.

Jesse was something of a hypochondriac and it irritated him that people were inconsiderate enough to be spreading their germs all over creation. As far as Jesse was concerned they should have stayed the hell home.

A muffled “oww!” emanated from inside the captain’s office and diverted Jesse’s attention from the two sick officers. Through the window Jesse could see the captain sucking on his finger. In his other hand he was gingerly holding a black disc.

“Jesse, you listening or what?” Vince demanded.

Jesse spun around. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said that was Doc Lapree on the phone,” Vince said.
“There’s been a further complication on the Charlie Arnold case. The body disappeared.”

“You’re joking,” Jesse said.

“Nope,” Vince said. “Doc said he’d decided to go back and take a bone marrow sample, and when he opened up the refrigerator where Charlie Arnold’s body had been placed, it was gone.”

“Holy crap,” Jesse voiced. He hauled himself to his feet. “We better go down there. This is getting too bizarre.”

PITT CHANGED INTO HIS BASKETBALL GEAR AND USED HIS
bike to travel from the dorm to the courts. He and Beau played frequently in the intramural three-on-three league. The competition was always good. A lot of the players could have played intercollegiate had they had the motivation.

As was his custom, Pitt arrived early in order to practice his shooting. He felt it took him longer than others to warm up. To his surprise Beau was already there.

Beau was dressed to play but was off to the side, behind a chain-link fence, conversing intently with two men and a woman. What was surprising was that the people appeared professional and in their middle to late thirties. All three were dressed in business suits. One of the men was carrying a fancy leather briefcase.

Pitt picked up a ball and began shooting. If Beau noticed him he didn’t give any indication. After a few minutes something else about the situation seemed surprising to Pitt. Beau was doing all the talking! The others were simply listening, occasionally responding with nods of agreement.

The other players began to arrive including Tony Ciccone who made up the third person on Pitt and Beau’s team. It was only after everyone had arrived including the opposition team and had warmed up that Beau wound up his conversation with the three businesspeople and joined Pitt. Pitt was now doing some stretching exercises.

“Hey, man, good to see you,” Beau said. “I was afraid after that marathon you put in at the ER you weren’t going to make it today.”

Pitt straightened up and lifted a basketball in the process. “The way you were feeling the day before yesterday, you should be surprised you’re here,” he said.

Beau laughed. “Seems like ages ago. Now I feel terrific. In fact, I’ve never felt better, and we’re going to cream these pansies.”

The other three players were continuing to warm up down at the other basket. Tony was tightening the laces of his high-tops.

“I wouldn’t be too cocky,” Pitt said, squinting against the sun. “See the muscle-bound guy in the purple shorts? Believe it or not, his name is Rocko. He’s a ball-breaker and a good shot to boot.”

“No problem,” Beau said. He snatched the ball away from Pitt and let it sail toward the basket. It went through the goal with a snapping sound having hit nothing but net.

Pitt was impressed. They were standing a good thirty feet away.