Yeti Unleashed Page 26

  “The bastards,” Siscom said, his gaze riveted on the billowing smoke from atop Cinder Mountain. “I can’t believe they did it.”

  “Everyone,” Drayton said, “we need to get back to the jeep and back to the facility. Something terrible has happened.”

  The group began the descent to where they left the jeep and horse trailer. Dixie glanced over her shoulder and barely made out the charred crumpled remains of Bentu and Sasha. She heard the whine of the helicopter and watched it rise into the thin clouds and streak southward.

  ***

  Dr. Reginald Pauling stood in front of the group of reporters and television cameras, adjusted the microphone, and cleared his throat. The news conference was in the main parking lot of California Pacific University and was crowded with reporters and satellite trucks. The sun was near the horizon, the sky gray-blue.

  Pauling adjusted his tie. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Dr. Reginald Pauling, the President of California Pacific University. As you know, last week, two of our experimental animals--Yeti, to be specific--escaped from our Primate Research Facility near Elko, Nevada. Unfortunately, a number of people were killed during the week while they were on the loose.

  “I am here to report that several hours ago a state police strike force located and killed both animals on the side of a mountain in northern Nevada. The search for the Yeti is officially over. The threat to the public is over. The animal’s remains will be transported to the research facility where the facility’s veterinarian will examine them.

  “We at the university are devastated by the loss of human life and our thoughts and prayers go out to the families involved. However, this is also a serious blow to the scientific community. Losing potential knowledge of our human heritage and development is a sad event, but we understood the threat to public welfare and are supportive of our law enforcement officials.

  “That is all I have at this time. There will be no questions. Thank you all.”

  “Dr. Pauling,” shouted a reporter. “We heard that there was an explosion at the primate facility early this morning. What can you tell us about that?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no comment.”

  Amid a flurry of more shouted questions, Pauling ducked into the Administration Building where campus security blocked entry by the reporters. He ambled up to his office and collapsed in a chair, poured scotch into a tumbler. After gulping down a swallow, he leaned back and massaged his temples. Well, it’s over. The nightmare is over without additional loss of life.

  His phone rang. It was Radner.

  “Dr. Pauling,” he said, “I saw the news conference and thought it went fine and you did a remarkable job.”

  “Thanks, Miles. What’s the latest from your end?”

  “They are bringing the Yeti carcasses here in the morning. According to Harry, there is not much of them left, however. I will email you the veterinarian’s report as soon as I have it.”

  “What about the explosion, Miles?”

  “As near as I can determine, it was a bomb detonated at our front gate. Nothing left of it but a mass of twisted metal. I have contacted the FBI and they are due here later today. Our security chief, Bruce Drayton, is returning with Harry. They should be back any moment now.”

  “I appreciate it. Anyone hurt by the explosion?”

  “No, sir. Fortunately, it happened at a time when there was not much traffic in or out of the facility.”

  “Fine, Miles. Have Harry and Drayton call me when they get back. I wish to speak with them personally.”

  Pauling finished his scotch, stood, and gazed out his window. The sun had set leaving only purple hues in the darkening sky. He would appoint a committee to investigate the Yeti escape to be sure, giving a few of the appointments to well knowns outside the university in order that there be no accusations of whitewash or cover-up. He wished that Professor Kesler was still alive, as his reputation was such that there would be no questions if it was determined that the university was not culpable. Would the committee recommend the university close the primate facility? He hoped not, as it was the only one of its kind on the West Coast and gave Cal Pacific a certain degree of prestige. In addition, if the facility was kept open, he would definitely re-evaluate the anthropology department’s selection process for sending graduate students to it.

  He switched on the television across from his desk and noticed the Elko County Sheriff and someone from the state police holding a news conference. The law enforcement officials involved in killing the Yeti, he surmised. He muted the sound and watched the men in silence. Behind them was a large map of northern Nevada and the sheriff pointed to it during the conference. Obviously detailing what happened and how they tracked down the animals. He tried to make notes of what he would say to the board of trustees, due to meet in the morning, but had difficulty concentrating so he pushed the notepad aside. He clicked off the television and went home for the evening.

  ***

  Rupert Lowell and Nash Yarak lounged in Lowell’s Burbank townhouse. They had just finished watching the news and Cal Pacific University’s president hold the news conference describing the Yeti’s escape from the primate facility and their killing. Lowell fixed drinks and handed one to Yarak. His friend’s arm was in a cast and he himself was bandaged and bruised.

  “Well, Nash,” he said, settling into an overstuffed chair. “What do you think?”

  Yarak shrugged then smiled.

  “I think we barely escaped with our lives, boss. Those monsters are called Yeti, huh?”

  “That’s what they said. Some version of Bigfoot, I believe. And I thought all that stuff was just fairy tales.”

  “Apparently not,” Yarak said, taking a sip of his drink.

  “After the sheriff’s office brought Terk’s and Garby’s bodies down from the mine, they kept asking me what had happened. I tried to tell them. They weren’t forthcoming with information. Now we know the truth.”

  “Those creatures,” Yarak said, “if I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes, I would never believe they existed. And they escaped from a research facility, eh?”

  “Apparently so,” Lowell said, finishing his drink. He poured himself another. “Brought here from China or Mongolia, I understand.”

  “We left all our gear in the mountains, sir. Not to mention all that gold we took from the mine.”

  “Yeah,” Lowell said. “Not to mention all that gold.”

  “We going back up there? To finish what we started?”

  Lowell smiled. “But of course, Nash. But can we wait until we’ve healed? I need the rest.”

  ***

  It was close to noon when Dr. Wickingham noticed Dixie hurrying down the hallway toward her office. She looked haggard, as if she hadn’t slept for several days. He caught up with her.

  “Dixie?” he said, touching the sleeve of her lab coat. “You’re back.”

  She turned without stopping and smiled. “Yes, Dr. Wickingham. Earlier this morning.”

  “Please call me Bernie,” he said, following her into her office.

  “Okay, Bernie. How are things here?”

  “I would like to talk to you about something important. That is, if you have some time.”

  “Well, Bernie, Harry and I are due to meet with Dr. Pauling after lunch but I guess I have a few minutes. What’s on your mind?”

  Dixie sat behind her desk and Wickingham took the offered chair next to her. He sat quietly for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. The office was piled high with books and journals stashed every which way in bookshelves. She kept the door open.

  “You know how much I’ve needed my own lab space--” he began.

  Dixie nodded. “And how there’s simply no room at present,” she interjected.

  “Dixie,” he continued, as if not hearing her, “I need that space. I was wondering if you could have a word with your husband maybe--”

  “Bernie,” Dixie said, holding up a hand. “Harry can’t create space out of thi
n air. Like I said, there is no available space. Believe me, he has looked.”

  Wickingham’s eyes narrowed and the smile turned to a frown. He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “I hate to bring this up,” he said in a slow drawl, “but I know of Harry’s forging his data for the article two years ago.”

  “What?”

  “I know, Dixie. He falsified data and Dr. Kesler fixed it after the article had been published. Saved Harry’s bacon.”

  Dixie sat in silence, staring at the young faculty member. “I’m not sure I know where this is going, Bernie,” she said, elbows on the desk. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

  “Just as I said, I know. And if I know, others might find out.”

  “Bernie, this was all made right a long time ago. I am well aware of what he did. He has apologized and that is the end of it.”

  “Maybe not, Dixie. Like I said, Harry’s credibility might be jeopardized if this became public knowledge. I mean beyond academic circles. If you could just help your husband understand how much I need that lab, I can assure you no one would ever need know his dirty little secret.”

  Dixie nodded in silence for a minute. “Yes, I understand now. His dirty little secret as you call it. This lab is important to you, isn’t it, Bernie?”

  “It is, yes.”

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do.” She stood, her brown eyes darker. “I’ll be in touch, Bernie. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  ***

  That afternoon, Harry, Dixie, Radner, and Dr. Siscom sat in burgundy leather chairs in Pauling’s office. Harry sipped a cup of coffee while Siscom thumbed through a series of typed pages. While they waited for the university president to arrive they chatted about the previous week’s happenings.

  When Pauling arrived, he took a seat and smiled at each of them.

  “I asked you all here,” he said, “to hear Dr. Siscom’s autopsy report on the Yeti and discuss it before he finalizes it. Gerald, do you want to begin?”

  Siscom cleared his throat and referred to the pages as he spoke. “First,” he said, “the remains of both Yeti animals were almost completely destroyed, leaving behind only a partial skeleton consisting of a few bones and their skulls. Not having any other means for identification, I separated the charred bones based in size, figuring the larger ones belonged to the female. That included the skull.”

  Siscom hesitated while he glanced over a page and adjusted his reading glasses. “There was nothing unusual in the surface anatomy of the bones. Numerous fractures were obvious, many of them broken in half. There were many bone fragments that were unidentifiable as to which animal they belonged. The trauma involved was horrific.

  “The skulls of both Yeti were relatively intact. All of the fur and skin had been burned. The larger skull, which I said must have been the female, had a frontal bone fracture extending into the parietal bone. I could see brain matter beneath the fracture line.

  “Although significantly charred, the male skull was unscathed, no fractures were observed. Finally, I did a post-mortem examination on the brains of each animal. And here is where it gets interesting.”

  Siscom turned the page of his report and continued. “The brain of the female was normal. Much larger than a human brain but normal. However, not so with the male brain. In the anterior or front portion of the frontal lobe there was a large tumor. In the left frontal lobe. It was the size of a softball.”

  Dixie gasped and Harry let out a low whistle.

  “Are you kidding, Gerald?” Pauling said, leaning forward on his desk. “For real?”

  “Absolutely,” Siscom said. “I examined it under a microscope. It was a glioblastoma.”

  “Speak English, Gerald,” Dixie said. She squirmed in her chair, eyes wide.

  “It’s an extremely malignant cancer,” Siscom continued. “And one this size is uniformly lethal. These are extremely aggressive tumors.”

  “You’re saying the male Yeti had a huge brain tumor?” Pauling said.

  “Yes. These cancers grow rapidly in all directions putting tremendous pressure on the surrounding normal tissue. Like I said, they are highly lethal.”

  “So, Gerald, could this brain tumor in the male explain his unusual aggressive behavior?” Harry had a notebook out and took notes. “Millie reported that Bentu acted aggressively toward Jimmy, the other graduate assistant. We assumed it was due to his harsh treatment of the animal but could it have been due to this tumor?”

  Siscom adjusted his glasses again and glanced at everyone in the room. “It’s possible, but we will never know for sure. The brain exists in a closed container, the skull, and as the tumor gets bigger, the skull can’t expand. So the pressure inside the skull increases, the brain itself is compressed which compromises circulation and blood flow. It can be extremely painful as well.”

  “How long had he had this tumor?” Harry asked.

  “No telling but he probably had it when he arrived here.”

  “And would have died fairly soon?” Pauling asked.

  “Again, I can’t say but in my opinion he had less than a year to live.”

  Harry massaged his temples and shook his head.

  Siscom turned a page in his notes. “Frontal lobe tumors and dysfunction have been postulated as an etiology for sociopathic behavior, including murder. Despite the scientific evidence, the legal system has in large part failed to address the implications of frontal lobe dysfunction in the criminal process. Frontal lobe dysfunction does not fit neatly into either a diminished capacity or an insanity defense.”

  “Dr. Pauling,” Harry said, “should we release this information to the press? What’s your opinion?”

  “Not at present, I don’t think. Harry, I’m going to appoint a committee to investigate what happened and determine if the university was culpable. My feeling is that everyone is off the hook--this was a huge tragedy. But we’ll let the committee decide how much information the public gets. How is this graduate assistant...what’s her name?”

  “Millie,” Dixie said. “Millie Harbaum.”

  “Yes. How is Miss Harbaum doing right now?”

  “She’s holding up,” Dixie said. “She bonded with Sasha, the female she was studying, so her death was a bitter blow. But she’s strong, she’ll be fine.”

  “Anything else, Gerald, with the report?” Pauling said, leaning back in his chair.

  “That’s it. Pretty bizarre, really. I must admit I liked these animals. They were strange, looked as if they had come from another planet, but I could see how you thought they were relatives of ours. When they first arrived, just their looks frightened me. How they could see right into your soul, like a beast from hell, like the asterian beasts in Dante’s Inferno.”

  “I remember,” Dixie said. “I still have nightmares of them from when I was in Mongolia. They have a way of getting into your psyche. But I wish it hadn’t ended this way.”

  “Fine,” Pauling said. “Now Miles, what have you learned from the FBI?”

  Radner cleared his throat and sat up straight. “The bomb was a simple device,” he said. “Plastic explosive with a clock timer. No fingerprints. But what with all the animal rights protestors of late, they think the bomb might be related to them. They have several leads which they are following at present.”

  “All right, I think we are done,” Pauling said. “Unless anyone has something else they would like to add. If not, Gerald, put that report in its final form and get it to me tomorrow.” Pauling stood. “Now, all, let’s get back to work.”

  Chapter 30

  Bernard Wickingham sat in Dr. Pauling’s outer office, wondering why he had been summoned so early in the morning. When he arrived at his own office earlier, there was a note on his computer stating that his presence was required in the president’s office immediately. The tone of the note was more on the line of an order and along the way Wickingham worried what the reason might be.

  The door opened and Pauling stood in the doorway.
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  “Please come in, Dr. Wickingham,” he said. His tone was a formal monotone.

  Wickingham passed Pauling, entered the office, and stopped in his tracks. There, in a chair next to the large desk, sat Dixie. She smiled when she saw him. His knees went weak and his stomach turned upside down. Suddenly, he was nauseous.

  Pauling crossed the room and took his usual seat behind his desk. He motioned to an empty chair. “Please, Doctor, have a chair.”

  Wickingham gulped and sat. His pulse raced.

  “Dr. Wickingham,” Pauling began, “Dr. Olson here has come to me with a most disturbing complaint concerning you. She states that yesterday you approached her with the notion that she help you obtain lab space. That she try to influence her husband in rearranging the laboratory assignments to your benefit. In other words, to pressure her husband to get you a lab. In return, you promised not to divulge certain facts about her husband, that you claimed to have, which might prove embarrassing to him. Do I have this correct so far?”

  “Dr. Pauling, I...I...I...” Wickingham said, struggling to find the words.

  “I take it by you hesitancy, Doctor, that I have the facts right.”

  Wickingham shot a quick glance at Dixie who sat silent, a small smirk on her face.

  “Well, Dr. Pauling, I wasn’t...”

  “Weren’t what?”

  “I think you--and she--have this all wrong. I wasn’t trying to pressure her. I merely said--”

  “In a court of law, Dr. Wickingham, it’s call extortion. It’s something we don’t tolerate at this university or among our staff.”

  “Dixie,” Wickingham blurted out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for you to take it the wrong way. I merely--”