Authors: Robert Masello
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers
Bestiary (44 page)
“Why not indeed?” he said, and eagerly turned, though he’d never imagined such a day would come, to al-Kalli for his conversation. However sinister the man might seem, he was at least well educated and urbane. And waiting. He seemed as eager to talk to Carter as Carter was to escape the idiocy of the Texas heiress. Was this all part of al-Kalli’s clever design, too—seating him next to a buffoon, so he wouldn’t have anywhere else to turn?
“In several of your papers,” al-Kalli said, “you outlined your beliefs in the common ancestry of dinosaurs and modern-day birds. I found your arguments interesting—and not always in agreement with others in your field.”
“No, I’m not always in agreement.”
“But then, why haven’t you drawn it all together into a book? You write compellingly, and you seem to have a rare knowledge of the animal kingdom, both past and present. Has it been for want of time?”
Carter had to mull that one over. He had written a number of published papers and monographs, and he had considered—virtually every day—undertaking a major synthesis of his views, but to some extent al-Kalli was right. Carter hadn’t found the time—or more specifically, the money that would support him and his budding family—for the many months (years?) that it would take to compose and publish such a book.
“Because if finding the freedom to work on what you want is a problem, perhaps we can discuss that later.”
Carter didn’t know what he was getting at.
“My family does run a foundation—we never advertise its existence—to help with certain projects we find provocative or intriguing.”
A servant refilled the last wineglass Carter had been drinking from. Carter took the interruption to think. “Thanks very much for your interest,” he said to al-Kalli. With the way things were going with Gunderson at the Page Museum, he might be taking him up on it. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“You do that.” Al-Kalli signaled the butler, had a few words in his ear, then stood up at the head of the table and declared that dessert would be served in the garden, “along with a small musical diversion.”
On the way out, Carter was able to sidle up to Beth and ask in a low voice if Robin needed to be relieved soon.
“No, she said she can stay as long as we need. If it’s too late, she’ll just sleep over.”
Carter had sort of been hoping it
would
be a problem, and that he’d be able to use this excuse to leave early. Dinner parties weren’t his favorite pastime, but if Beth was having a good time—and it looked like she was—then he’d find a way to stick it out. Even if it meant—as all indications were pointing to—sitting through a string quartet concert under the stars. The musicians were gathered in a semicircle on the edge of the courtyard, just where the stones gave way to the manicured green lawn. Little round tables had been set up, with long flowing linen cloths, and tiny white lights had been threaded artfully through the overhanging branches of the jacaranda trees. Thankfully, there were no place cards in evidence here, so he wouldn’t be stuck with the Texas creationist again.
would
be a problem, and that he’d be able to use this excuse to leave early. Dinner parties weren’t his favorite pastime, but if Beth was having a good time—and it looked like she was—then he’d find a way to stick it out. Even if it meant—as all indications were pointing to—sitting through a string quartet concert under the stars. The musicians were gathered in a semicircle on the edge of the courtyard, just where the stones gave way to the manicured green lawn. Little round tables had been set up, with long flowing linen cloths, and tiny white lights had been threaded artfully through the overhanging branches of the jacaranda trees. Thankfully, there were no place cards in evidence here, so he wouldn’t be stuck with the Texas creationist again.
He was just guiding Beth to two seats at a table with the Critchleys (better the devil you know) when al-Kalli touched him by the elbow and drew him aside. Captain Greer, Carter noted, was standing a few feet away.
“I’m wondering if you would mind forgoing the concert,” al-Kalli said, “so that I might share something—something terribly important—with you.”
Skipping the concert was fine with Carter. He told Beth he’d be back shortly, and then followed al-Kalli into the porte cochere, where he found a four-seater golf cart waiting, and Jakob, whom he’d once seen at the Getty, at the wheel. Greer sat up front, perhaps so that he’d have more room for his bad leg, and Carter got in back with al-Kalli. Carter knew they weren’t going golfing, but other than that, he was completely mystified.
As the cart took off along a graveled pathway, Carter could hear the opening strains of a classical piece that sounded, even to his musically untrained ear, like Mozart. The music wafted through the warm night air, growing fainter as they passed out of sight of the house. The cart rumbled over a wooden footbridge, past a stable where Carter could see an Arab boy leading a docile horse back into its stall. Just how vast was this estate? Carter wondered again.
They continued along, parallel to what was plainly a service drive, until they saw, emerging from a thick copse of trees, what looked to Carter like a white airplane hangar. Did al-Kalli keep his own private air force? It wouldn’t have surprised him at this point.
Jakob steered the golf cart into a clearing within a few yards of the huge double door, then stopped it. He remained seated, as did Captain Greer, but al-Kalli got out and gestured for Carter to come with him. He walked off, taking a gold cigarette case from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He held it out to Carter, who declined.
“Of course you’re right,” al-Kalli said, lighting one nonetheless. “It’s a nasty habit, but I can’t entirely give it up. And these I have specially made for me in Tangier.”
He drew on the cigarette, his eyes narrowing but remaining firmly fixed on Carter. Then he exhaled, the fragrant smoke—it smelled to Carter less like tobacco than cloves and cinnamon—spiraling above their heads. “I pray I do not live to regret what I am about to do.”
At first, Carter thought he must be joking—was he referring to having the cigarette?—but then he felt a sudden chill. Al-Kalli was referring to something else, and he wasn’t joking.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t do it,” Carter replied. “Why take the chance?”
“Because I must trust someone. And I believe I can trust you.”
Why he would think that—having spent no more than a few hours, total, in his company—Carter couldn’t guess. Any more than he could guess what al-Kalli was contemplating.
“What I am about to tell you, you can never tell anyone. What I am about to show you, you cannot show to anyone else. Unless—and until—I advise you otherwise. First of all, is that understood?”
Carter hated to agree to anything so vague, and al-Kalli noted his hesitation. “Please do not fear—I am not running a white slavery ring or planning a terrorist attack. On the contrary, no one owes more to this country than I do. But will you give me your word, as one gentleman to another?”
“Yes,” Carter replied. Although he hated to admit it, his curiosity had been piqued.
Al-Kalli nodded, drawing again on the cigarette. “You won’t be sorry,” he said. “Indeed, you will be very grateful that you did.”
Carter doubted that, but kept quiet, waiting for more.
“I have in my possession, as you will soon see, the most remarkable collection in the world.”
Collection of what?
“Walk with me a bit.”
As they strolled beneath the boughs of the trees, along the winding gravel path, Carter caught glimpses, now and then, of the twinkling lights of the city, far, far below and way off in the distance. He was glad that he could see the lights because it rooted him in reality even as al-Kalli told him a story too fantastical to believe. A story that, had anyone else tried to palm it off on him, he would have dismissed out of hand. But coming from al-Kalli, it had to be taken seriously—and even so, it was nearly impossible to credit.
For time immemorial, al-Kalli explained, his family had owned a menagerie. Or, as he called it, a bestiary.
“Yes, Beth has told me about
The Beasts of Eden.
She says it’s the most astounding illuminated manuscript she’s ever seen.”
The Beasts of Eden.
She says it’s the most astounding illuminated manuscript she’s ever seen.”
Al-Kalli paused. “It’s not the book I’m speaking of. It’s the actual bestiary; the book is merely a . . . guide.”
Now Carter was confused. The book, so far as he knew, contained pictures and text describing such imaginary creatures as griffins and gorgons, phoenixes and basilisks. Medieval inventions, allegorical motifs. What was al-Kalli saying? Did he own a bunch of poor mutant animals, two-headed calves and three-legged ponies and other unfortunate creatures salvaged from traveling circuses?
“The animals in my care exist nowhere else. They have not existed for eons, if you believe the standard wisdom.” He snorted. “If you believe the standard wisdom, most of them have never existed at all.”
Carter began, for the first time, to question al-Kalli’s sanity, and his own safety. Was he taking a moonlight stroll, with two hired thugs in a golf cart not far off, in the company of a lunatic billionaire?
Even if al-Kalli sensed his doubts, he went on as if he knew they would eventually be silenced. The animals had been carefully tended to, and bred, in the desert palaces his family owned not only in present-day Iraq, but in other remote regions of the Middle East—“most notably the Empty Quarter, as it is known, of the Sahara Desert.” But with all the geopolitical changes in the region, “and of course the rise of Saddam Hussein, the situation gradually became untenable.” The al-Kalli family had forged an unholy truce with the dictator that had held for many years, but in the end, Saddam’s greed and lust for ultimate and unchallenged power had led to its unraveling. Without providing much in the way of detail, al-Kalli alluded to a catastrophe inflicted on his family, and a sudden, costly exodus. “What I was able to save of the bestiary, I saved. But you will soon see for yourself.”
“Why?” Carter asked. “Why me?”
“Because who else on earth could understand, could appreciate, such a miracle?”
Carter was flattered, but still unsure what to make of any of this.
“But first,” Al-Kalli said, “I know I have to convince you that I’m not mad.”
Carter saw no point in protesting.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I would think so, too.” He dropped the cigarette butt on the gravel and ground it underfoot. “So, shall I prove my case?”
Carter glanced over at Jakob and Captain Greer, who were conferring in front of the doors to the hangar—or zoo, Carter suddenly thought—and considered his options. He could refuse, but what kind of a position would that leave him in? Al-Kalli would consider his own position already compromised, and might now regard Carter as a potential threat. And it certainly wouldn’t help out Beth, whose access to
The Beasts of Eden
might suddenly be restricted or even revoked. On the other hand, if he were to accept al-Kalli’s invitation, he would be entering into some sort of complicity with him—and al-Kalli didn’t strike him as the kind of man who let you out of a deal very easily.
The Beasts of Eden
might suddenly be restricted or even revoked. On the other hand, if he were to accept al-Kalli’s invitation, he would be entering into some sort of complicity with him—and al-Kalli didn’t strike him as the kind of man who let you out of a deal very easily.
Al-Kalli waited, and in the distance Carter could hear the screeching cry of one of the peacocks. Maybe that was it—maybe al-Kalli thought peacocks were phoenixes. Maybe he had a crocodile in his zoo and thought it was a sphinx. Maybe he had a snow white horse and called it a unicorn. Maybe all of this was some long-inculcated family delusion, and all Carter would have to do, once he’d passed through those sealed doors, was feign astonishment and swear a bond of eternal secrecy. How hard could that be?
And, if he were perfectly honest with himself, it would satisfy his own gnawing desire to know the truth. It was like some fairy tale now. What
was
hidden in Ali Baba’s mountain cave?
was
hidden in Ali Baba’s mountain cave?
“Okay, you’re on,” Carter said with a lightheartedness he did not feel.
Al-Kalli nodded in the direction of Jakob and Greer, and as he walked Carter toward the facility, the doors swung smoothly open, just as if someone had indeed muttered “Open, Sesame.”
As Carter passed inside, powerful blowers overhead made his clothes flutter around his body; his hair felt like a thousand fingers were mussing it all at once. The air being expelled had the strong odor of musk and fur and dung on it. And the moment they were all inside, the doors swung shut again.
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