按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
tward； and zoning regulations forced him to move his operation repeatedly。 Nobody； it seemed； wished to build elementary schools or shopping malls within walking distance of caged jungle cats and wild cobras。 The last time Felix Mojack was forced to relocate his animals； Augustine gave him ten thousand dollars for the move。
At the time of Felix's death； the farm inventory listed one male African lion； three cougars； a gelded Cape buffalo； two Kodiak bears； ninety…seven parrots and macaws； eight Nile crocodiles； forty…two turtles； seven hundred assorted lizards； ninety…three snakes （venomous and nonvenomous） and eighty…eight rhesus monkeys。
The animals were kept on a nine…acre spread off Krome Avenue； not far from the federal prison。 The day after the funeral； Augustine drove out to the place alone。 He had a feeling that his uncle ran a loose operation； and a tour of the facility corroborated his suspicion。 The fencing was buckled and rusty； the cages needed new hinges； and the concrete reptile pits hadn't been drained and cleaned in months。 In the tar…paper shed that Felix had used for an office； Augustine found paperwork confirming his uncle's low regard for U。S。 Customs regulations。
It came as no surprise that Felix had been a smuggler； rather； Augustine was grateful that his uncle's choice of contraband had been exotic birds and snakes； and not something else。 Wildlife； however； presented its own unique challenges。 While bales of marijuana required no feeding； bears and cougars did。 Lean and hungry was a mild description of the illegal menagerie； Augustine was appalled by the condition of some of the animals and presumed their deterioration was a result of his uncle's recent financial troubles。 Fortunately； the two young Mexicans who worked for Felix Mojack graciously agreed to help out for a few days after his death。 They stocked the freezers with raw meat for the large carnivores； bought boxloads of feed for the parrots and monkeys； and restocked on white mice and insects for the reptiles。
Meanwhile Augustine scrambled to locate a buyer for the animals； somebody qualified to take good care of them。 Augustine was so preoccupied with the task that he didn't pay enough attention to news reports of a tropical storm intensifying in the Caribbean。 Even when it bloomed into a hurricane； and Augustine saw the weather bulletin on television； he assumed it would do what most storms did in late summer…veer north； away from South Florida； on the prevailing Atlantic steering currents。
Once it became clear that the hurricane would strike southern Dade County with a direct hit； Augustine had little time to act。 He was grimly aware what sustained one…hundred…mile…per…hour winds would do to his dead uncle's shabby farm。 He spent the morning and afternoon on the telephone； trying to find a secure location for the animals。 Interest invariably dropped off at the mention of a Cape buffalo。 At dusk Augustine drove out to fasten tarps and tie…downs on the cages and pens。 Sensing the advancing storm； the bears and big cats paced nervously； growling in agitation。 The parrots were in a panic； the frenetic squawking attracted several large hawks to the nearby pines。 Augustine stayed two hours and decided it was hopeless。 He sent the Mexicans home and drove to a nearby Red Cross shelter to wait out the storm。
When he returned at dawn； the place was destroyed。 The fencing was strewn like holiday tinsel across the property。 The corrugated roofing had been peeled off the pound like a sardine tin。 Except for a dozen befuddled turtles； all his uncle's wild animals had escaped into the scrub and marsh and； inevitably； the Miami suburbs。 As soon as phone service was restored； Augustine notified the police what had happened。 The dispatcher laconically estimated it would be five or six days before an officer could be spared； because everybody was working double shifts after the hurricane。 When Augustine asked how far a Gaboon viper could travel in five or six days； the dispatcher said she'd try to send somebody out there sooner。
Augustine couldn't just sit and wait。 The radio said a troop of storm…addled monkeys had invaded a residential subdivision off Quail Roost Drive； only miles from the farm。 Augustine immediately loaded the truck with his uncle's dart rifle； two long…handled nooses； a loaded 。38 Special； and a five…pound bag of soggy monkey chow。
He didn't know what else to do。
Canvassing the neighborhood in search of her husband； Bonnie Lamb encountered the dull…eyed boy with the broken bicycle。 His description of the tourist jerk with the video camera fit Max too well。
〃He ran after the monkey；〃 the boy said。
Bonnie Lamb said； 〃What monkey？〃
The boy explained。 Bonnie assessed the information calmly。 〃Which way did they go？〃 The boy pointed。 Bonnie thanked him and offered to help pry his bicycle off the tree。 The boy turned away； so she walked on。
Bonnie was puzzled by the monkey story； but most of the questions clouding her mind concerned Max Lamb's character。 How could a man wander off and forget about his new wife？ Why was he so fascinated with the hurricane ruins？ How could he so cruelly intrude on the suffering of those who lived here？
During two years of courtship； Max had never seemed insensitive。 At times he could be immature and self…centered； but Bonnie had never known a man who wasn't。 In general； Max was a responsible and attentive person； more than just a hard worker； an achiever。 Bonnie appreciated that； as her two previous boyfriends had taken a casual approach to the concept of full…time employment。 Max impressed her with his seriousness and mitment； his buoyant determination to attain professional success and financial security。 At thirty； Bonnie was at a point in life where she liked the prospect of security； she was tired of worrying about money； and about men who had none。 Beyond that； she truly found Max Lamb attractive。 He wasn't exceptionally handsome or romantic； but he was sincere…boyishly； pletely； relentlessly sincere。 His earnestness； even in bed； was endearing。 This was a man Bonnie thought she could trust。
Until today； when he started acting like a creep。
The predawn expedition to Miami seemed； at first； a honeymoon lark…Max's way of showing his bride that he could be as wild and impulsive as her old boyfriends。 Against her best instincts； Bonnie played along。 She felt sure that seeing the hurricane's terrible destruction would end Max's documentary ambitions； that he'd put down the camera and join the volunteer relief workers； who were arriving by the busload。
But he didn't。 He kept taping； being more and more excited； until Bonnie Lamb could no longer bear it。 When he asked her to operate the camera while he posed on an overturned station wagon； Bonnie nearly slugged him。 She quit tagging after Max because she didn't want to be seen with him。 Her own husband。
In one gutted house she spotted an old woman； her mother's age； stepping through splintered bedroom furniture。 The woman was calling the name of a pet kitten； which had disappeared in the storm。 Bonnie Lamb offered to help search。 The cat didn't turn up； but Bonnie did find the old woman's wedding album； beneath a shattered mirror。 Bonnie cleared the broken glass and retrieved the album； damp but not ruined。 Bonnie opened it to the date of inscription： December 11； 1949。 When the old woman saw the album； she broke down in Bonnie's arms。 With a twinge of shame； Bonnie glanced around to make sure that Max wasn't secretly filming them。 Then she began to cry； too。
Later； resolved to confront her husband； Bonnie Lamb went to find him。 If he refused to put away that stupid camera； she would demand the keys to the rental car。 It promised to be the first hard test of the new marriage。
Two hours passed with no sign of Max； and Bonnie's anger dissolved into worry。 The tale told by the boy with the broken bicycle ordinarily would have been ical； but Bonnie took it as further evidence of Max's reckless obsession。 He was afraid of animals； even hamsters； a condition he blamed on an unspecified childhood trauma； to boldly pursue a wild monkey was definitely out of character。 On the other hand； Max loved that damn Handycam。 More than once he'd reminded Bonnie that it had cost seven hundred dollars； mail order from Hong Kong。 She could easily envision him chasing a seven…hundred…dollar investment down the street。 She could even envision him strangling the monkey for it； if necessary。
Another squall came； and Bonnie cursed mildly under her breath。 There wasn't much left standing； in the way of shelter。 She felt a shiver as the raindrops ran d'own her neck； and decided to return to the rental car and wait for Max there。 Except she wasn't sure where the car was parked…without street signs or mailboxes； every block of the destroyed subdivision looked the same。 Bonnie Lamb was lost。
She saw the helicopters wheeling overhead； heard the chorus of sirens in the distance； yet on the streets of the neighborhood there were no policemen； no soldiers； no proper authority to which a missing husband could be reported。 Exhausted； Bonnie sat on a curb。 To keep dry； she tried to balance a large square of plywood over her head。 A gust of wind got under the board and pulled Bonnie over backward； as she went down； a corner of the board struck her sharply on the forehead。
She lay there stunned for several moments； staring at the muddy sky； blinking the raindrops from her eyes。 A man appeared； standing over her。 He wore a small rifle slung on one shoulder。
〃Let me help；〃 he said。
Bonnie Lamb allowed him to lift her from the wet grass。 She noticed her blouse was soaked； and shyly folded her arms across her breasts。 The man retrieved the plywood board and braced it at a generous angle against a concrete utility pole。 There he and Bonnie Lamb took shelter from the slashing rain。
The man was in his early thirties； with good shoulders and tanned； strong…looking arms。 He had short brown hair； a sharp chin and friendly blue eyes。 He wore Rockport hiking shoes； which gave Bonnie a sense of relief。 She couldn't imagine a psychopathic sex killer choosing Rockports。
〃Do you live around here？〃 she asked。
The man shook his head。 〃Coral Gables。〃
〃Is the gun loaded？〃
〃Sort of；〃 the man said； without elaborating。
〃My name is Bonnie。〃
〃I'm Augustine。〃
〃What are you doing out here？〃 she asked。
〃Believe it or not；〃 he said； 〃I'm looking for my monkeys。〃
Bonnie Lamb smiled。 〃What a coincidence。〃
Max Lamb woke up with a headache that was about to get worse。 He found himself stripped to his underwear and bound to a pine tree。 The tall man with the glass eye； the man who'd snatched him off the street as if he were a wayward toddler； was thrashing and flopping in a leafy clearing by the campfire。 When the impressive seizure ended； the kidnapper gathered himself in a lotus position。 Max Lamb noticed a thick black collar around the man's neck。 In one hand he held a shiny cylinder that reminded Max of a remote control for a model car。 The cylinder had a short rubber antenna and three colored buttons。
The one…eyed man was mumbling： 〃Too much juice； too much。。。〃 He wore a cheap plastic shower cap on his head。 Max would have assumed he was a street person； except for the teeth； the kidnapper displayed outstanding orthodontics。
He seemed unaware that his captive was observing him。 Deliberately the man extended both legs to brace himself； inhaled twice deeply； then pushed a red burton on the remote…control cylinder。 Instantly his body began to jerk like an enormous broken puppet。 Max Lamb watched helplessly as the stranger writhed through the leaves toward the fire。 His boots were in the flames when the fit finally ended。 Then the man rose with a startling swiftness； stomping his huge feet until the soles cooled。
One hand went to his neck。 〃By God； that's better。〃
Max Lamb concluded it was a nightmare； and shut his eyes。 When he opened them again； much later； he saw that the campfire was freshly stoked。 The one…eyed kidnapper crouched nearby； now his neck was bare。 He was feeding Ore