New Parkies were required to attend zoo crisis drills, but no one took them seriously. Astrid recalled her own training sessions on the zoo several years back when she hired on; and three years ago (through a special arrangement with the Metropolitan Police), she herself had been allowed to help train the keepers to use their neuralzingers, which were kept in a locked case at the security office. The guns were effective against even the largest mammals, but no keeper had ever used one that she recalled.
Like the Open Air Theatre, the zoo was fenced in and required a fee, and generally, you didn’t worry about it from a policing perspective. Jurisdictionally, it wasn’t parkland, and constables normally would have required explicit permission to enter the zoo, even if in hot pursuit. In fact, the zoo had developed its own security squad, sanctioned by Royal Parks bylaws, and this included an animal recovery team. The team members were all very specialized but very relaxed. One man wore dreadlocks, another a beard as puffy and long as Karl Marx’s. But they knew how to coax a lion, how to calm a zebra, or call to an escaped eagle, and now how to kill one of these animals if necessary.
Dubbed the AnimalSafe Squad, it was headed by a very tall, passionate man named David Beauchamp. Astrid didn’t particularly like him. Beauchamp didn’t fit in with the others, who could have passed for hemp farmers or festival-following crusties. He talked a great, great deal. And he seemed to have zero respect for the constabulary. Chief Inspector Omotoso described him to Astrid as “self-serving, pompous, manipulative, and hostile.” Omotoso claimed that Beauchamp secretly wanted to see the parks police taken over by the Watch.
“My team are pros,” he once said to Astrid, his voice entirely gravied-over with a rich, thick condescension. “We take our roles seriously. We’re not some PC Plods force arresting litterers. Not that the RPC is that—of course not.” The not-so-subtle dig at the constabulary was stinging, but Astrid could only wince and get on with work.
The AnimalSafe Squad had had their firearms training, and they now trained their own. Few in the constabulary seriously contemplated any one of the AnimalSafers ever gunning anything down.
“Inspector?”
Astrid stared through the phone box window onto the walk.
“Inspector, you were saying . . . about the night keeper?”
“Right, yes, Atwell, let the standard zoo staff—not their security detail, mind you—handle this one. They’ve got their own way of doing things. They’re animal-friendly. And see that the Watch knows we know. They’ll blow up the whole zoo if we don’t stop them.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think—you with me?—the problem is actually an emergency—of some sort, yeah?” She was sounding exasperated, and Astrid felt her guidance wasn’t proving genius. She said, “The thing is, the second time that I freq’d you, it wasn’t simply the light. It was the bizarre sounds, ma’am.”
Astrid was genuinely perplexed by Atwell’s alarm.
“It is a zoo, Atwell, right? I don’t mean to be funny, but . . . and who said it wasn’t an emergency?”
“I appreciate that, ma’am, but it sounded beyond that—Inspector—I mean, past what a zoo should sound like.” Atwell spoke now in a snappish, annoyed tone.
“Maybe it’s because it’s the night before the General Election,” Astrid said. “Animals are constitutionally liberal—and the polls don’t look good.”
Atwell groaned. “Right. Ma’am. Damn it. With respect, and I know it’s not my place, but I feel you’re not taking it seriously. You should. It sounded like murder. Then a man half-dressed came sprinting past the car. He looked crazy, with hair all sticking up, and a head that looked—it looked compressed. He was pounding my window, ma’am, then he ran off, toward Albany Street. He was saying the jackals were loose. He said he was the night watchman but . . . I don’t know . . . for some reason, I didn’t believe him, to be frank, guv. He said there was someone in the zoo. He wanted into the pandaglider, but I wouldn’t do it, ma’am. I wasn’t scared, ma’am. It just didn’t seem advisable, yeah? But, well, I believe we have an incident here that goes beyond my regular training, ma’am.”
Astrid felt a chill on her neck. She said, “Jackals loose—that’s new.” No wonder the autonews was on the prowl. “Stone the crows. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you off, Jasmine, but you can surely understand . . . this is all . . . it’s just . . . never before, not in my time.” She scratched her nose. “What did the man look like? I’ve met the night watchman—he’s the night keeper, too—Dawkins. Odd fellow. He’s quite a fat biffa.”