To Die Fur (A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Mystery) (24 page)

“And a little embarrassing. Can we not bring it up again, please?”

The badger wasn’t paying any attention to Augustus, but he was studying me with intent, beady eyes.

“And I, unfortunately, remember him. Tango, do you think you can convince Augustus that he should—”

I was interrupted by a series of snorts, whuffs, and grunts by the honey badger. “I don’t want to know,” I said. “Really. I don’t.”

I thought about it. The last time we talked, the honey badger
had
provided some useful information, and it was possible he’d do so again in the future. Cultivating contacts is important, and courtesy is free. “Tell him my name is Foxtrot, and thank him for being so helpful last time.”

She chuffed and grunted at the badger, provoking a startled look from Augustus. The honey badger listened, then responded.

“What do you mean, uh-oh?”

“What did he say?”

practical
is the wrong word. In a practical sense, it’s unlikely, horrifying, and deeply, deeply wrong. It’s not-so-horrible in an abstract kinda way.>

“Tango. What. Did. He.
Say
?”

“What’s so terrible about that?”

slash
Ecstasy
slash
Disbelief.>

[That seems an unlikely coincidence.]

[Not to mention long. Bit unwieldy to use in conversation.]

I facepalmed, then spoke from behind my hand. “Guys. Let’s just pretend this conversation never happened and move on with our lives, all—”

[Perhaps an acronym would be more suitable.]

[Still too long. Perhaps just Owduttf?]

[That would be the full translation?]

“
And
we’re done,” I said. “Tango. We need to get Augustus back to the Crossroads, okay? Eli’s getting worried.”

She started making entirely different and more cat-like noises, which got Augustus’s attention—as well as that of the honey badger, who stopped staring at me and turned his head to look at Tango. After a moment Augustus bounded out of the pen—ignoring the fence in his way—and sauntered off in the direction of the graveyard. The honey badger had a few parting remarks to throw at us as we left, too.

“Bye, Owdut,” I called over my shoulder. “It’s been … memorable.”

corrected Tango.

I shuddered. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

We followed Augustus out of the zoo and across the broad front lawn of the estate, where I spotted ZZ waving at me from the front door. I told Whiskey and Tango to escort the liger back to the Crossroads and for Tango to stay with him while Whiskey reported back to me. Then I joined ZZ, who wanted to discuss our options. I reluctantly went with her, though what I really would have liked to do was talk to Eli about the Big Cat Problem.

Oh, well. Two jobs, two bosses, one Foxtrot. At least I have assistants.

I spotted Ben as ZZ and I went inside, but I didn’t have time to do much more than nod at him as we walked through the foyer and upstairs. He looked like he wanted to talk to me, too, but we didn’t have the chance. ZZ took me upstairs to her office; Shondra joined us, too.

When we were all seated around her desk, ZZ said, “I can’t tell you just how badly it bothers me that someone tried to steal Augustus’s body.”

“It won’t happen again,” said Shondra. “I’m tightening security for the clinic as we speak. Additional cameras, better locks—”

“No,” said ZZ.

“No?” I said.

“No. Simply preventing them from trying again is not what I want. I want to catch them, preferably in the act.”

I nodded, while Shondra frowned. “Wait,” she said. “You want to give them the chance to try again? Set a trap?”

“Exactly,” said ZZ.

Shondra was skeptical. “What makes you think they’ll try again?”

“Because someone is clearly desperate to get their hands on Augustus’s corpse. And desperate people do stupid things.”

“Desperate people are also dangerous and unpredictable,” Shondra pointed out. “Someone could get hurt.”

“Well, that’s why we’re having this meeting, dear. To map out all the details so that no one does.”

Shondra didn’t look happy, but she nodded all the same. She knew that ZZ never backed down on a point of principle. We were there to provide advice and resources, but ZZ made the decisions.

“I’m going to tell our guests that I’ve had second thoughts about my decision and would like them to stay another night. We’ll post surveillance—either cameras or guards or both—but conceal them. Then we’ll wait for our thief to make his move.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I already knew who the thief was: Abazu Chukwukadibia. But there was no way to explain
how
I knew that, so I was just going to have to keep my mouth shut.

And my eyes open.

*   *   *

Afterward I went straight to the kitchen, where I ran into Ben.

“Okay, here’s the scoop,” he said, wiping his hands with a dish towel. “Eli wants us to talk to Waghai Devi, pronto. Any delay will be seen as an insult, and these folks insult easy.”

“What did Eli think of our performance so far?”

Ben took off his apron and hung it on a hook. “He thinks not getting eaten was a good first step. I wouldn’t exactly characterize him as
happy,
though.”

“Negotiations are tricky. You need both sides to believe you’re working in their own best interests, while trying to convince them that compromising is not failure. It’s like trying to push water uphill.”

“Seems like you did pretty good at persuading old Apedemek you could do just that.” He grinned at me as we headed out the back door.

“That was just establishing my bona fides, which I still have to do with Waghai Devi. Then we get down to actual back-and-forth contract stuff.”

We ran into Whiskey at the graveyard gate. [Augustus is resting, over by the statue of the circus bear. Eli is waiting for you at Davy’s Grave.]

We hurried over to the site, a simple plot surrounded by trees and benches. Eli was perched on the back of one of the benches; I rarely saw him in a tree.

“Foxtrot. Are you and Ben ready?”

“Sure. Let’s go. Never keep a tiger goddess waiting.”

Ben raised his hands, and the wind began to swirl. Lightning danced and the Great Crossroads faded from view, replaced by a surrounding wall of lush, dense vegetation. We were in a clearing in a tropical jungle at night, illuminated by silvery moonlight. I could hear the calls of the jungle’s denizens all around me, everything from soft chirrups to harsh cries, but I had no idea which animal was making what noise; that scream might be a monkey or it might be a bird, that chirp could be a bug or a frog or some kind of rodent. The warm, moist air closed around us like a damp fist, heavy with the scent of the tropics.

“Okay,” I said. “This place might be a little harder to navigate in than the faux Serengeti.”

“Do not worry,” a soft voice said from the shadows in front of us. “You are in no danger here. Not of getting lost, anyway.”

A tall, slender figure stepped forward. A woman, with orange-and-black-striped hair and pale skin, wearing a dress of red so dark it was almost black. She smiled at us with lips the same color. “Welcome to my home.” Her eyes were a deep green.

“Uh, hello,” Ben said. “Thank you.” He sounded a little dazed.

Terrific. Looked like I was going to have to deal with trouble of an entirely different kind this time …

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

“Follow me, please,” said Waghai Devi. She turned and strode—no, slunk—into the darkness of the jungle, where a path seemed to open up beneath her bare feet. We followed.

Waghai Devi’s realm was very different from Apedemek’s. His had been sunny, hers was dark; his was open, hers was enclosed. Brilliant shafts of moonlight occasionally striped the path with silver, but mostly we traveled through rustling shadow. I wondered where we were going, but I knew better than to ask. We’d find out when we got there.

I knew what she was doing, too. Establishing the tone. Trying to make us feel small and alone and vulnerable. In this world we might as well have been mice as human beings.

I tried not to let it get to me. These kinds of head games were supposed to be the first shot in a psychological battle, but you could learn more about an opponent than they expected if you paid attention to what they
weren’t
showing you.

For instance, I wasn’t seeing any other tigers.

Apedemek had been careful to display the size of his pride. Devi was being just as careful not to reveal her numbers. That might simply be a function of how this place worked—tigers were solitary, secretive creatures, after all—but it might not be. If you were just flexing your muscles, you’d want a show of power; if you were planning an actual attack, you’d want to keep your true abilities hidden until the last moment.

When lions hunted, the females cooperated to run down prey. Tigers were ambush predators—they liked to hide and then pounce. Almost all deaths from tiger attacks were produced by a single massive bite to the back of the neck, from jaws that could generate up to a thousand pounds of pressure. Sudden, lethal, and effective. If Waghai Devi wanted to take us out, we’d never see it coming.

Which was about when I started seeing green and yellow eyes glinting in the darkness around us. Good going, Foxtrot. Yeah, these head games weren’t affecting me at all.

But it wasn’t like I didn’t have an arsenal of my own to fight back. Waghai Devi might be an ancient Indian tiger goddess, but I’d been marinating in the pop-culture slurry of twenty-first-century America for most of my life.

Tigers? You want tigers? Okay, you got ’em.

Tony the Tiger.
Grrrrrrreat!
Tigger. “Bouncing around like an ADD toddler on a sugar binge is what tiggers do best!” And of course Hobbes, of Calvin and Hobbes, whom I always heard talking with a cultured British accent: “Tigers
love
tuna fish sandwiches.” I imagined it was them in the jungle around us, Tigger sproinging behind us on his tail, Hobbes sauntering alongside on his hind legs looking thoughtful, Tony riding a motocross bike or skateboard or whatever piece of sports equipment current studies deemed popular with his target demographic.

Imagination is not your friend at three
AM
in a creaky house. Fortunately, a robust sense of humor can usually beat some sense into it.

Unfortunately, the tenser the situation the more extreme the counter-response. And putting those three together in one imaginary scenario might have been a little over the top …

Waghai Devi stopped, though she didn’t turn around. We stopped, too. “Did I just hear you
giggle
?”

“Sorry.”

“A lesser deity might infer you weren’t taking the situation seriously.”

“Nervous reaction. Won’t happen again.” Except then I imagined trying to explain to her that it was all Tony’s fault, because he crashed that damn three-wheeled skateboard thingie into a tree, and then Tigger started jumping up and down on it while yelling “Corporate merchandising of beloved children’s characters is what tiggers do
best
!” while Hobbes just stood there shaking his head and pointing out that this never would have happened if Tony had been endorsing Chocolate-Frosted Sugar Bombs.

I managed not to snicker, but it was an effort.

At length we came to the base of a gigantic tree. There were steps growing out of the massive trunk, spiraling up into the foliage. Waghai Devi ascended gracefully, and we followed behind.

The jungle floor disappeared as we traveled higher, until all we could see around us were the rough brown of the trunk and whispering green leaves. The moon was occasionally visible through breaks in the canopy above, a brilliant white globe that seemed slightly oval. Almost like the eye of a cat …

The steps ended at the fork of three enormous branches, two of which angled upward to either side. The biggest branch lay between the other two, flattening and leveling off into a passable floor. Other branches sprouting from it formed approximations of furniture: a table, several benches, shelves. Waghai Devi curled up on a branch that resembled a divan, sprawling as carelessly as any domesticated tabby, and motioned for us to do the same. I took a seat across from her, and Ben took one beside me.

“Would you care for some tea?” Devi asked. “I have chai I’m told is quite heavenly.”

“No, thank you,” I said. I was dying to try some, but considering how wired she’d gotten Augustus, I didn’t think it was a good idea. “You have a lovely home.”

She smiled at me lazily, her eyes half closed. “A home should be comfortable, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’m sure Augustus would be very happy here.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

I glanced around. “I have to say, though—I’m a little surprised at your presentation. It seems rather—”

“Human?” She laughed, a throaty chuckle. “Tigers are more adaptable than lions; it’s why we can swim and they can’t. I thought taking this form and creating this environment for our discussion would put you more at ease.”

Interesting. Clearly, Devi thought the way to make her case was to win us over to her side, in the hope that I would then convince Augustus that she was the better choice.