Frock returned her gaze. “We’re dealing with a creature possessed of preternatural intelligence.”
“What you’re saying is that it detected our trap,” Pendergast said, a note of disbelief in his voice.
“Let me ask you, Pendergast. Would you have fallen for that trap?”
Pendergast was silent. “I suppose not,” he said at length.
“Well, then,” said Frock. “We underestimated the creature. We must stop thinking of it as a dumb animal. It has the intelligence of a human being. Did I understand correctly that the body they found in the exhibition was hidden? The beast knew it was being hunted. Obviously, it had learned to conceal its prey. Besides—” he hesitated. “I think we’re dealing with more than simply hunger now. Chances are, it’s been temporarily sated by this evening’s human diet. But it’s also been wounded. If your analogy of the cape buffalo is correct, this creature may not only be hungry, but angry.”
“So you think it’s gone hunting,” Pendergast said quietly.
Frock remained motionless. Then he gave a barely perceptible nod.
“So who’s it hunting now?” Margo asked. No one answered.
= 55 =
Cuthbert checked the door again. It was locked and rock solid. He flicked on the flashlight and shined it in the direction of Wright, slumped in his chair and looking morosely at the floor. Cuthbert switched off the flashlight. The room reeked of whisky. There was no noise except for the rain splattering and drumming against the barred window.
“What are we going to do with Wright?” he asked in a low tone.
“Don’t worry,” Rickman replied, her voice tight and high. “We’ll just tell the press he’s sick and pack him off to the hospital, then schedule a press conference for tomorrow afternoon—”
“I’m not talking about after we get out. I’m talking about now. If the beast comes up here.”
“Please, Ian, don’t talk like that. It scares me. I can’t imagine the animal is going to do that. For all we know, it’s been in the basement for years. Why would it come up here now?”
“I don’t know,” said Cuthbert. “That’s what worries me.” He checked the Ruger once again. Five shots.
He went over to Wright and shook the Director’s shoulder. “Winston?”
“Are you still here?” Wright asked, looking up hazily.
“Winston, I want you to take Lavinia and go into the Dinosaur Hall. Come along.”
Wright slapped Cuthbert’s arm away. “I’m fine just where I am. Maybe I’ll take a nap.”
“The devil with you, then,” said Cuthbert. He sat down in a chair opposite the door.
There was a brief noise—a rattle—at the door, as if the doorknob had been turned, then released.
Cuthbert jumped up, gun in hand. He walked close to the door and listened.
“I hear something,” he said quietly. “Get into the Dinosaur Hall, Lavinia.”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me go in there alone.”
“Do as I say.”
Rickman walked over to the far door and opened it. She hesitated.
“Go on.”
“Ian—” Rickman pleaded. Behind her, Cuthbert could see the huge dinosaur skeletons looming out of the darkness. The great black ribs and yawning rows of teeth were suddenly illuminated by a streak of livid lightning.
“Damn you, woman, get in there.”
Cuthbert turned back, listening. Something soft was rubbing against the door. He leaned forward, pressing his ear against the smooth wood. Maybe it was the wind.
Suddenly he was slammed backward into the room by a tremendous force. Cuthbert could hear Rickman screaming within the Dinosaur Hall.
Wright stood unsteadily. “What was that?” he said.
His head ringing, Cuthbert picked the gun off the floor, scrambled to his feet, and ran to the far corner of the room. “Get into the Dinosaur Hall!” he shouted at Wright.
Wright sagged heavily against the chair. “What’s that disgusting smell?” he asked.
There was another savage blow to the door, and the crack of splitting wood sounded like a rifle shot. Cuthbert’s finger instinctively tightened on the trigger, and the gun fired unexpectedly, bringing down dust from the ceiling. He lowered the weapon momentarily, his hands shaking. Stupid, one wasted bullet. Bloody hell, he wished he knew more about handguns. He raised it again and tried to take aim, but his hands were shaking uncontrollably now. Got to calm down, he thought. Take a few deep breaths. Aim for something vital. Four shots.
The room gradually returned to silence. Wright was slumped against his chair, as if frozen into place.
“Winston, you idiot!” Cuthbert hissed. “Get into the Hall!”