"The commander will let the field commander know you're coming out," Mindar said. "He doesn't want anyone mistaking you for a cat."
"Thanks." Grand looked at Sheriff Gearhart. "Would you care to come along?"
"I'll leave the zoological police work to you," Gearhart said. The sheriff looked at Mindar. "I want to go to the tar pits, see what kind of preparations they're making. I've still got friends on the force. I want to see if I can ratchet things up a bit."
Mindar's eyes shifted to the tail hanging from Gearhart's belt. "There'll be press down at the tar pits too. You should probably put that away."
Gearhart raised it slightly. "It stays. It's like we used to do with Cong scalps in 'Nam."
"This isn't Vietnam."
"It will be before the night's through," Gearhart said confidently. "Saigon, Day Omega. People shitting and running when they see what's coming at them."
"It's your ass," Mindar warned. "The press will eat it up."
"I've seen them today," Gearhart said. "These people are amateurs."
The lieutenant shook his head slowly, then called over a guardsman to give Gearhart a lift to the tar pits. Grand suddenly understood something about Gearhart He didn't care about his town. He cared about his side. Those who were on it got his support and protection. Those who weren't were his enemies. There was no middle ground.
As Gearhart left Mindar's aide returned with the flashlight and radio. He gave them to Grand.
Mindar looked at the scientist "Let me know what you find out there."
"I will." Grand said. "Thanks for your help."
"Sure. I wish it were more. I truly do."
Grand thanked him. As the scientist walked toward the gate at the back of the estate, he felt as though he were having an out-of-body experience. He was watching things happen with an inevitability and momentum he couldn't stop. Bureaucracy, politics, territorialism, fear, misinformation, stupidity-everything bad was coming together to make the worst possible decisions. But he couldn't allow himself to focus on that. He had to try and find out where the cats were and then get to the tar pits. He had a very bad feeling that if the cats did show up, tranquilizing them would be the last thing on the minds of the LAPD. Especially if Gearhart had anything to say about it He had to convince them otherwise, even if it meant taking point in any attack and trying to save at least one or two of the cats.
Heeger let Grand out and alerted his own units that the scientist would be moving through the hills. Flashlights poked through the trees and brush while a police helicopter and the Chinook circled the hills, its spotlight blanching the color from the trees and rocks. Despite Mindar's claim that they were being as careful as possible, the officers were crunching loud enough for Grand to hear and they were all walking upwind. If the cats were out there, these people didn't stand a chance. And while the officers were all over the map, they had missed two things. First, they should be concentrating on the southwest. The wind was blowing in that direction from the estate. Though wild animals shied from cooked meat, the smell coming from the fire pits might have attracted the cats. The second thing they should be focusing on was high ground. Animals preferred to run on level or downward-sloping ground to conserve energy and build up speed.
Rather than give the others an education, Grand looked around the surrounding hills.
There was a stilt-house under construction on a lot overlooking the estate, about two hundred yards up. It was in the right place and there was a high pile of dirt near the foundation. Grand made his way to the site and approached the mound. There appeared to be remnants of claw marks in the loosely packed earth. He walked around to the other side.
Sewer pipes lay beside the foundation. The ground had been dug to connect them to the main pipelines. The hole was about five feet high and went under Coldwater Canyon. He could hear the distant sound of water, possibly sewage in the main pipe or water draining from the hills.
Grand ducked down and looked in. The opening was five feet across. He didn't feel the presence of the saber-tooths the way he had before. He listened and heard nothing. He turned the flashlight from the opening, let it play over the house and through the surrounding hills. He didn't see any eyes, a flanking cat watching him. That wasn't a good sign. If he didn't find one inside, then maybe the pride had already moved on.
Holding the flashlight in one hand, Grand crawled in.
The tunnel was snug and when Grand hit basalt, the walls became extremely tight and jagged. He was in an earthquake fissure where the rock had simply split. The saber-tooths obviously had the capacity of a modern-day cat to twist and slink through tight places. The adaptability of the animals was astonishing. They had to have been hunted out of existence. No wonder humans were an irresistible target. Food plus one less enemy to deal with.
After a few minutes Grand found a diamond bracelet on the ground, then large pieces of bone and clothing. Then he saw human hands and feet. His fears were confirmed: The cats had eaten and moved on. That was uncharacteristic of large migrating predators and it seemed to be uncharacteristic of what he'd seen these cats do. He wondered if the saber-tooths could possibly have smelled the tar from here or whether they were moving along a path they had moved eons ago-perhaps only days before, to them.
Or was it something else?
Grand tried to raise Lieutenant Mindar but the signal wasn't getting out of the cave. He edged around the body parts and continued on. After a few minutes he found the sewer conduit. It was a thick white pipe set in the soil overhead and held there with bands bolted into the surrounding rock, flat steel sheets that gave the pipe play whenever the earth shook. The pipes were intact and the water sounds weren't coming from there. They were coming from somewhere ahead. An underground stream, probably, flush with rain water from La Nina.
One that could lead to drain pipes, caverns, or God knows where else, he thought His plan might not work. Not if they'd already dispersed into two or even three separate groups. Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing.
It was a long way from Monte Arido to the Hollywood Hills, but maybe the cats hadn't bothered to rest tonight The creatures were at home in water. They might have heard the stream and decided to move on. It would certainly make the journey quicker and easier.
But why go now? What was so urgent? Were they afraid of losing a particular tar pit to another pride? Were there actually two prides continuing a struggle, a race, that had begun millennia ago? Or had something else pushed them on? Fear? Did they sense an earthquake coming or maybe a larger predator of some kind? Had something happened within the pride? The pride probably had a leader. Was he young or old, fit or dying? Maybe he was hurt in the long-ago holocaust. The saber-tooth Grand fought had been scarred. Perhaps the leader was being threatened by another male and felt compelled to bring his pride home.
Grand backed out. He felt more anxious than he did when he knew the cats were near. For whatever reason, the saber-tooths were making the final part of their journey tonight. There wasn't time to research, check, double-check, and confer. There might not even be time to coat a tunnel with tar. The saber-tooths could be there in a matter of minutes. The area had to be completely evacuated and police had to be set up around the pits now.
The scientist got on the radio as he returned to the mansion.
"Lieutenant," he said.
"Here, Professor."
"I found body parts in one of the tunnels I checked, but no cats."
"What does that mean?"
"They moved on," Grand said. "They probably saw or heard all the activity and wanted to get to familiar territory as soon as possible. You've got to inform whoever's in charge there may not be time to set a trap for the saber-tooths. Tell them to cordon off the entire area around the tar pits and fall back as far as they can."