Lab Notes: a novel (12 page)

μ CHAPTER NINETEEN μ

Diane played four notes of
Funny Valentine,
dropped the cover over the piano keys and cupped her face in her hands. Vincent had made a simple request in his song, but she couldn’t comply.

She doubted she’d ever watch the video again. But she’d always be tormented with horrible visions of the hit and run—her punishment for not going on the race with her husband. If she had been on the boat, she could have taken watch giving Vincent an opportunity to rest. Maybe she would have spotted the big white yacht on radar and averted the collision.

Vincent had obviously been fatigued beyond endurance. His face was drawn, his eyes were swollen, his speech garbled. And when he sang, he had mangled the lyrics beyond all recognition, other than that moment of clarity when he asked her to play
Funny Valentine
one more time for him.

Vincent always said he couldn’t carry a tune. She could never get him to sing. Only a deteriorated mental state would have driven him to record a song on a video intended for ESPN and the world to see.

Huck nudged her knee, bringing her back to the present. She reached over and scratched behind his ear. He wagged his tail and licked her leg. He was hungry.

Outside, an ice cream vendor’s truck played a Scott Joplin tune, and children shouted after it. Diane forced herself to stand up and follow Huck to his empty bowl. Life went on.

Tomorrow she’d call Vincent’s father and plan a memorial Mass. Then she’d phone the Coast Guard in Galveston and arrange to take the video in to them. Perhaps their trained eyes will see more than the few letters she was able to make out on the stern of the fleeing yacht.

μ CHAPTER TWENTY μ

The helmsman approached without running lights, throttled back to a purr and ghosted into the harbor where he quickly maneuvered in beside the
Enterprise
. Even in the well-lit marina, the massive yacht hid his craft from the building. Satisfied, the helmsman cut the engine.

Then he waited and watched.

Diane and David slid onto the picnic benches at the restaurant. Cajun music emanated from overhead speakers, enlivening the dim surroundings.

After a moment, Diane tossed her menu aside. “There are too many selections. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

David ordered ribs, fries and Shiner Bocks for both of them.

Diane regarded the man across the table. Whatever David’s reasons, she appreciated his becoming her self-appointed guardian. She managed half a smile. “Thanks. My decision-making processes have shut down.”

David nodded in understanding.

It was 9 p.m. On the way from BRI to the restaurant, Diane and David had stopped at Diane’s house to feed Huck and drop off her car. If David hadn’t dragged Diane away, she’d still be at BRI acknowledging condolences from around the world. This was her first meal since breakfast.

Beginning early that morning, a procession of BRI staffers had come by Diane’s office to offer their sympathy and support. Spotting the videocam on her desk, they all spoke in hushed tones as if visiting a shrine. But no one mentioned the video.

Eventually Diane realized the camcorder was the 800-pound gorilla causing awkwardness in communications. She placed the camera in her desk drawer and locked it.

Maxine and Diane’s father-in-law had spread the word about
Woodwind’s
beaching. And by late morning the emails and phone calls began coming in from cousins, friends and colleagues around the globe.

Vincent’s sailing club had called to offer condolences. Then Gabriel Carrera phoned from Paris asking if there was anything he could do for her. His father Carlos Carrera also called; he was doing business in New York. Olimpia Garza phoned from Bogotá offering her sympathy, sounding deeply saddened.

Ignoring the frosted mug in front of her, Diane took a swig from the beer bottle.

David raised an amused eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a bottle drinker; behind that Yankee façade beats the heart of a good ol’ gal.”

“I’m actually an Iron City girl—weaned straight from the milk bottle to the beer bottle. Vincent’s Mother, God rest her soul, hated that about me.”

David smiled, held up his Shiner Bock in a toast and took a long swallow. Then he said in a careful tone: “Were you able to make the videocam work?”

Diane took another gulp of beer, then nodded solemnly. “Yes… But I couldn’t bring myself to watch it.”

David reached over and touched her arm. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

Diane avoided eye contact with him while considering her response. At that moment the food arrived, saving her fragile composure from crumbling in the face of David’s sympathy.

Her cell phone rang. She swallowed a bite of French fry, then answered. Hearing Wilbur’s voice on the other end, she remembered she was on administrative call.

Wilbur had been BRI’s evening security guard for years. He frequently thought of reasons to phone when Diane was on call. Often she found it endearing, but sometimes—like right then—she was annoyed.

Wilbur’s calls always went something like: “Your office lights are still on, Doc. Are you coming back this evening.” Or else: “There’s some lights burned out down in the harbor. Should I have someone change them tonight, or wait until morning?”

But tonight, after Wilbur’s initial greeting, she knew this call was different. His words raced incoherently in a timbre verging on hysteria.

“Slow down, Wilbur. I can’t understand you.”

Diane heard him panting, then: “Someone broke into BRI. The police are on their way. Doesn’t seem to be a whole lotta damage. Musta been the… What the… Oh shit! S’cuse my French, Doc, but one of the chimpanzees just went hot-footin’ past here… What was I saying? Oh, yeah: Musta been the animal rights activists, like before.”

μ CHAPTER TWENTY ONE μ

The police arrived just behind Diane and David. David asked them to turn off their flashing lights for fear of frightening the chimps and driving them toward the bluff.

Diane headed to the locker room to change into her jogging clothes. When she returned, Wilbur gave his report of the incident to her, David, Maxine and officers Sabbatini and Conway.

The guard had been at the gatehouse most of the evening. The perpetrators must have come and gone by boat. They left the cages at the primate house open; all five chimpanzees were on the loose. Wilbur had driven his golf cart through the jogging trails and heard chimps screaming up in the trees; evidence that at least some of them were still on the property.

Wilbur had called Raymond Bellfort and Maxine. Bellfort was the first to arrive. He was inside surveying damage.

Throughout Wilbur’s monologue, Maxine wrung her hands and shifted from foot to foot. “You have to get moving before the animals freak out and jump into the bay.”

Just then Raymond showed up with three air rifles and a container of tranquilizer darts in a canvas shoulder bag.

He handed rifles to David and Wilbur and the darts to Diane. “Ah… not much damage inside. Some broken glass and so forth in the labs. You all head out with Wilbur. I’ll take the other cart.” He turned on his heel and left.

The policemen had brought their own air rifle and darts. They also brought a spotlight and bananas. “We’ll use the bananas to lure the chimps out of the trees if need be before darting them,” Sabbatini said. “We don’t like to tranquilize animals then have them fall to the ground.”

Wilbur gave the officers a trail map and David checked their darts and medication.

“We just want to tranquilize them, not paralyze them,” he said. He approved of the dosage, needle size and gelatin collars used to hold the dart in place until the injection was complete. Handing the darts back to one of the officers, he said, “I don’t know if you’ve ever used these at night, but with the small explosive charge that injects the drug, there will be a visible flash.”

The officers said they knew about the explosive.

“Another thing before you head into the woods,” David said. “Don’t underestimate the chimpanzees. They weigh close to a hundred pounds, stand about four feet tall and have large teeth. They can be very aggressive, especially in groups.”

“We’ll be fine,” Conway said, patting his sidearm as they headed toward the woods.

Diane retrieved the restaurant take-out containers from David’s jeep. After stuffing a few French fries into her mouth, she placed the Styrofoam boxes in the back seat of the golf cart along with the canvas bag of darts and climbed in beside them.

With David and Wilbur in the front seat, they set out on the hunt. Diane leaned forward. “Wilbur, since you’re driving, do you mind if I carry your air rifle back here?”

“Do ya know how to use it, doc?”

“I’ve darted research animals before.” Actually, she had used an air pistol, not a rifle. And most of her gun-toting experience had been with shotguns in the jungle. But she felt she could handle a rifle if she had to.

Wilbur grunted in disapproval, but handed the rifle back to Diane.

David had brought a spotlight. But Wilbur said he knew the trails like the back of his hand. “Better to sneak up on the chimps in the dark”, he said.

They rode along the perimeter trail in silence, listening. To their left, through the trees, they could see the lights of the primate house.

“Head to the lights,” Diane said. “I want to bait the trail. Maybe some of the chimps will follow the food back to their cages.”

Wilbur turned left at the next intersecting trail and headed for the primate house.

Diane tossed out French fries, one by one, as they moved along. To the east, toward the bay, they heard a chimpanzee scream. Closer in, tree branches cracked as if under a load. It was going to be a long night.

They baited the primate house with beef ribs then rode toward the trail that ran along the bluff. A hazy half-moon aided visibility.

David motioned for Wilbur to stop. “Listen.” He pointed to their right. Off in the woods, underbrush cracked in a rapid rhythm. Someone, or something, was running. Then a chimpanzee screamed.

They heard a pop and saw a flash of light followed by shouting. Then a spotlight turned on.

Wilbur steered into the woods. The cart bumped along the uneven ground heading toward the light and the sound of angry voices.

By the time they reached the two policemen, Officer Conway—presumably the shooter—had removed a tranquilizer dart from the butt of Officer Sabbatini whose speech had become somewhat slurred.

“Let’s get you back to the offices,” David said and assisted him as he stumbled toward to the cart. “You’ll be alright,” he assured the policeman. “That dosage was intended for an animal about half your size.”

Satisfied that his partner would live, Officer Conway shouldered his air rifle and walked out the trail heading east.

David turned Sabbatini—by then rather docile—over to Maxine in BRI’s lobby. She showed him to a sofa where he collapsed in slumber.

Suppressing their laughter, Diane, David and Wilbur headed out again. Their first stop was the primate house where they discovered Hear, See and King happily gnawing on beef rib bones.

David and Diane carefully locked their cages. Kong and Speak, both aggressive males, were still out there in the woods.

Wilbur steered the cart toward the center trail. “I’m not as concerned about the chimps as I am about sharing the woods with ‘Officer Quick Draw,’” he said.

“He walked in the other direction,” Diane assured him. “Why don’t we drive a little closer to the center, stop the cart and listen for animal sounds.”

With everyone in agreement, they drove a short distance east of the primate house, parked the cart and sat very still. A breeze had come up. Tree limbs rasped together. Spanish moss swung from the branches, pulling the eye in every direction.

Diane gripped the rifle that lay across her lap. She knew the chimps were terrified, therefore dangerous. She could see the newspaper story now:
After a career spent trekking hundreds of miles through the treacherous jungles of Central and South America, a scientist is killed by chimps on a jogging trail south of Houston.
Or, if written by an animal rights activist:
After months of imprisonment and torture at the hands of depraved scientists, chimpanzees revolt.

Something crashed onto the cart roof, and the threesome bolted as if a bomb had gone off. Shaken, they stood on either side of the vehicle looking up at the culprit: a fallen tree branch.

They decided to walk awhile.

David and Wilbur toted the air rifles. Diane slung the bag of extra darts over her shoulder and carried the remaining box of ribs and fries. Wilbur shined a dim flashlight at their feet as they headed toward the middle of the compound.

After ten nerve-racking minutes of bump-and-go, the trio approached a large clearing. Immediately, they spotted a commotion on the opposite side. Then they heard a screech and a shout.

Staying inside the tree cover, they hastened toward the noise. As they neared, they recognized Raymond Bellfort’s voice. They approached him from behind.

Bellfort was waving a baseball bat at a tree limb over his head. “You shouldn’t have run from me, Darlin.’ Now look at the trouble you’re in.” His voice had an eerie quality.

Suddenly, he whacked at the branch with the bat. One chimp screamed. Then both of them jumped from the tree. One landed on Raymond’s head, the other hung from his shoulder.

The surprise impact toppled Bellfort to the ground. The chimps scattered. Then they turned and charged. One went for Raymond’s hands, the other, his head. He fought back, cussed and shouted commands at the primates, but to no avail.

Diane, David and Wilbur took a few seconds to react, then they moved cautiously toward the frenzied scene.

Wilbur was the first to take action. In the limited light, he put the rifle to his shoulder and fired. Bellfort screamed and reached for the dart as it exploded in his thigh. He kicked his legs and shouted, “Take it out. Take it out.”

Emboldened by their quarry’s agitation, Kong and Speak jumped up and down on his chest and abdomen. Diane tore open the Styrofoam box and tossed a beef rib, hitting Speak square in the face. The rib bounced off and hit the ground a foot away.

The animals lost interest in Raymond Bellfort. They jumped to the ground and fought over the rib. Diane tossed two more ribs, then snatched the air rifle from the stunned Wilbur.

“You take the left one,” she shouted at David while she loaded a dart. She aimed and hit her target dead in the center of his buttock. David missed his chimp.

Diane loaded again and fired. Pop! She hit the other chimpanzee in the shoulder.

Speak lost interest in his meal and lay down for a nap. Then Kong staggered and rolled to the ground.

The trio ran to Raymond. His head and hands were covered in blood. He was somewhat sluggish, reacting to the tranquilizer. “The dart, the dart…” he muttered.

“Hold the flashlight on him,” David said to Wilbur as he tore off his own shirt sleeve. He blotted Raymond’s face and neck to check for hemorrhage. Most of the bleeding was coming from his left ear, which was partly torn away from his head. “Put pressure here, David said.” Wilbur followed the instruction pressing the fabric against the side of Raymond’s head.

David examined Bellfort’s hands. “Looks like you lost part of your finger,” he said, tying a tourniquet around his left pinky.

After determining she wasn’t needed to help Raymond, Diane tracked down Bellfort’s golf cart several trees away. She drove back to the men and picked up Wilbur. They rode over and retrieved the other cart.

David removed the dart from Bellfort’s thigh, then helped him to his feet and half-carried him to Wilbur’s cart. He phoned Maxine and told her to call for an ambulance. Wilbur helped Diane load the limp chimpanzees onto the other vehicle.

The carts made their first stop at BRI’s lobby where Maxine settled Raymond onto a sofa. “This is beginning to look like a freakin’ triage center,” she muttered. Across the lobby, on the other sofa, lay the snoring police officer. His partner remained at large.

Diane and David in one cart, and Wilbur in the other, took the sleeping chimps to the primate house. After David did a quick physical assessment of the animals, they were settled gently into the cages. The chimpanzees had survived their romp in the woods unscathed except for Kong’s leg and foot contusions, caused—in David’s professional opinion—by contact with a baseball bat.

The ambulance arrived to pick up Raymond Bellfort. Charlotte was meeting him at the emergency room. Raymond’s bleeding had diminished to a slow ooze. He’d require the services of a skillful plastic surgeon to suture his ear and some jagged facial wounds.

The police left. Maxine went home. David and Diane walked through the labs assessing the damage. After checking the first three floors, they arrived on the fourth floor and entered the lab through the back door.

“Intruder entering, intruder entering,” Maggie blared out. Diane switched on the lights, ran to the controls and pushed “reset.”

“I guess she’ll never accept me,” she said.

“At least she’s still in good voice; they didn’t mess with her,” David said.

“Obviously, the real intruders didn’t come through the back door. If they had, Maggie would have set off the alarm and alerted Wilbur.”

They walked through the laboratory. Like the labs downstairs, broken glass littered the countertops. David picked up the bottom half of a beaker and tossed it into the trash as they walked by.

“We’d better leave the mess for the insurance company,” Diane said. Then she pointed to a box containing the new spectrophotometer. “It’s interesting that they left the large equipment intact.”

“Maybe this was just a warning visit,” David said.

“I would have preferred a phone call… They didn’t even leave a note. How are we supposed to know what they want from us?”

“My bet is on the animals. The activists want us to stop using them in our studies.”

The chimps were to take part in the conclusion of Vincent’s
Peruvase
animal studies. Diane remembered how excited he was the day they arrived. But now, with Vincent and
Peruvase
gone, BRI didn’t need the chimps, unless another study came up.

If, indeed, animal rights people were the culprits, the chimps’ presence would keep BRI under a continued threat. And the chimps themselves were in danger if the activists returned and released them again. They didn’t do well running free in a strange environment.

After a quick pass through the lab, David headed for the door. Diane followed, switching off the lights on her way out.

She walked across the hall to check her offices before David drove her home.

Diane entered the suite. The lights were on. At first glance she saw her assistant’s desk had been rifled. Joyce would have to inventory the damage in the morning.

Diane headed to her office, stopped dead in the doorway and sucked in her breath. The destruction had become personal.