Case of the Unlucky Emperor, page 3
“Corgi clue it is,” I announced.
“But … a moose?” Shannon reiterated, clearly confused. “I don’t see how it could be important.”
“You will by the time this is over,” I promised.
“Shannon, may I ask a question?”
Our liaison looked at my wife and nodded. “Go ahead, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Where will we be staying? We were assured that accommodations would be provided. Are they near the facility?”
“We’ve booked you a wonderful cabin in downtown Sitka. Two bedrooms, wood fireplace, kitchenette, everything you need has been provided. Once Ms. Rozhkov has had a chance to meet with you and give you a tour, then I’ll be taking you back to town so you have a chance to settle in.”
My wife nodded, pleased.
“Thank you.”
Unsure how I should formulate my next question, I cleared my throat. Suddenly, I had every set of eyeballs in the van locked on me.
“Umm, Shannon? I’m sorry, I’ve got to ask something. Your CEO, Ms. Rozhkov? Based on the name, I’m guessing she’s Russian?”
“Yes, although you’d never be able to tell by listening to her. That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Oh, no, not at all. It’s just that … well, a Russian CEO chooses to name her facility CCCP?”
Our driver burst out in giggles.
“You wouldn’t be the first to ask that. She insists it wasn’t intentional. And even though she has a Russian name, she was born in Washington.”
“Oh?” Jillian asked. “Do you know where? I know a lot of people up there.”
“A small little town called Steilacoom. It’s a suburb of Tacoma.”
My wife nodded. “I do know of the area. A good friend of mine has a son who attends Steilacoom High School.”
“Does Dr. Rozhkov speak Russian?” I asked.
Shannon laughed. “Not a word, I’m afraid.”
“And Emperor penguins?” I continued. “In the Arctic?”
Shannon continued to laugh, pausing only long enough to fetch a tissue from a small pack sitting on the console between seats.
“Again, not the first time I’ve heard that. Do you know how many times I’ve walked by Ms. Rozhkov’s office and heard her stating she’s well aware there are no penguins this far north? Dozens and dozens of times.”
“I look forward to meeting her,” Jillian said, taking my hand in hers.
“We’re nearly there,” Shannon announced. “If you look ahead, you’ll see the break in the trees about a mile in front of us. On the other side of the tree line is our facility.”
“How big is it?” I asked, once the main complex came into view.
“Doesn’t look that big, does it?” Shannon admitted. She pressed a button on what looked like a garage door opener and waited for a chain link gate to roll open. “We have about forty-five hundred feet of space, with just over ten acres at our disposal.”
“Ten acres?” I repeated, surprised. “For penguins?”
“These are Emperors,” Shannon clarified. “They can get pretty big. We want to make sure they don’t feel crowded. This property started with less than half an acre, but Dr. Rozhkov was able to talk the city into selling some of the surrounding land.”
“How many penguins call this place home?” I asked.
“As it is, we only have sixteen breeding pairs right now, separated into two colonies. The Woody colony has ten, and Buzz has six. There’s a third yard, but it’s much smaller. The purpose was to have a place to separate a pair if necessary. Thankfully, we haven’t had to use it yet.”
“Do the penguins really need that much room or are you planning on bringing in more pairs?” Jillian asked.
“We have the facility to accommodate up to two-hundred breeding pairs. We just have to prove proof of concept first. I’ll let Dr. Rozhkov go over the details. And here we are. In fact, there’s Ms. Rozhkov now. She’s waiting for us.”
The van pulled to a stop at the top end of a circular driveway. A light dusting of snow had fallen, turning everything white. The nearby trees were picture postcard perfect, and CCCP’s large main complex strongly resembled an oversized Victorian manor. In fact, I had to look twice. The roof had a number of steep gables. There was a tower on the northern wall, and of the three buildings that comprised the facility, there was a dormer on each wall, facing each direction. Some had two, actually. Decorative woodwork was evident in the large porch wrapping the front entrance, and worked its way up, to the second story.
“That has to be the prettiest animal facility I have ever seen,” Jillian said, awed.
“It’s just a remodeled house,” Shannon informed us. I helped her unload our luggage from the van. “It was significantly cheaper to remodel an existing structure than build one from scratch. Thankfully, this mansion was on the market for less than half what it originally cost.”
“We got it for a steal,” a new voice agreed.
We turned to see a woman in her late thirties approach. She was the same height as Jillian, which made her five-foot six, and had shoulder-length brunette hair. She was wearing a thick, padded winter coat, black slacks, earmuffs, and dark gloves. She pulled one off and held out a hand.
“Dr. Marianne Rozhkov. I’m so very pleased to meet you.”
“Zack Anderson,” I said, taking her hand. Shannon was right. Dr. Rozhkov didn’t have any trace of a Russian accent. “This is my wife, Jillian. And, of course, we mustn’t forget Sherlock and Watson.”
“They are so cute!”
Marianne reached down to give each corgi a pat on the head.
“Come, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”
We thanked Shannon for the ride and, with me holding both suitcases and Jillian manning the leashes, followed Marianne up the porch steps into the house.
The first thing we noticed was that the interior had been completely remodeled. It may look like a residence from the outside, but the similarities ended there. As soon as you stepped inside, you’d know you were not in someone’s home.
I could smell antiseptic scents in the air. Strong chemicals, likely used to clean and sanitize equipment, were prevalent. What used to be the house’s foyer had now joined with the main living room and was a communal sitting area. Several armchairs were arranged in a large semi-circle and were set around a lit fireplace. Wood crackled as it burned, casting off a very welcoming warmth. Both corgis approached and promptly shook themselves off.
Marianne held out a hand.
“Let me take your coats. They’ll be hung there, in that closet. Just leave your luggage. No one will bother it. Did Shannon tell you she’ll be taking you to the cabin we rented for you? Good. All right, can I give you a tour?”
I held out a hand. “Please do. You lead the way and we’ll follow.”
With me in possession of both leashes once more, we followed Marianne as she moved deeper into the house. We slowed at a white circular staircase.
“Offices are all upstairs. Will you be needing a place to work?”
I pointed at the dogs. “They don’t really work that way. We need to be able to look around. Once we, meaning they, find something, they’ll let me know. Whether or not anyone can make the connection remains to be seen.”
Marianne regarded us for a few moments.
“Is that how they did it in Monterey?”
I nodded. “Yep. They found a missing log book when no one else knew where to begin looking. They’ve located missing jewelry, sculptures, and even people. I don’t know how they do it, but they never fail. It continues to amaze me.”
“Very well. Let’s keep moving. Through here is the kitchen, with our storage freezers. All of our penguins’ diets are created here. That freezer there—I won’t even begin to tell you how much that walk-in unit cost. Over there, we have two smaller backup units we can use should this one fail.”
We moved past the kitchen and veered right.
“Through there is where we conduct examinations. There are three fully stocked exam rooms, and should we need a fourth, our surgery room can also double as another room.”
“Do you let the birds incubate their own eggs, or do you collect them to bring in here?” Jillian wanted to know.
In response, Marianne pointed at a large glass box with a heavy lid. Inside, thanks to a number of bright lights, we saw several rows of pear-shaped objects that were of a greenish-white color. Each of the eggs were about five inches long, and around three inches wide.
“How freakin’ cool,” I said, although it wasn’t directed to anyone other than myself.
“I wish I could share your enthusiasm,” Marianne quietly told us.
“Worried about the chick?” I asked, looking up. “If there’s any chance of recovering that baby penguin, those two will be the ones to do it.”
“I certainly hope so, Mr. Anderson. As you can see, none of the other viables have hatched. We’re going to give this batch more time, of course, but this represents our first attempt. We were very much hoping we’d be able to make a press release, proclaiming our first attempt had been successful. However, I’m now thinking that’s not going to happen.”
“Your first attempt has been successful,” Jillian corrected. “The missing chick is proof of that. Clearly, someone doesn’t want you, or this facility, to succeed.”
“You don’t think we’ve already considered that?” Marianne asked, dropping her voice even lower. “The only way something like this could’ve been pulled off is to have inside help. That’s what keeps me awake at night.”
The dogs rose to their feet, shook their collars, and looked at the closest window. Catching sight of the dogs, Marianne nodded.
“You’re right. We should continue with the tour. Follow me, and I’ll show you our medical facilities.”
Dr. Rozhkov walked past us and through a door on the left. She turned right, and we were back in the kitchen. She pulled a set of keys from her jacket pocket and unlocked a door that looked like it was nothing more than a closet. Or a pantry.
It was neither.
We were looking at a wide, refreshingly clean staircase heading down. Once the lights were activated, we could see that it was only nine or ten steps down, before depositing us into a converted basement. White tile was everywhere: floors, walls, and countertops. The wall to my right held four large, metal sinks. Locked storage cabinets lined the wall on my left. Directly in front, I could see several white tables, currently folded up and secured against the wall. And on the wall behind me were more freezers. Three huge chest freezers lined the far wall. You know the kind. The ones big enough to hide a body? Those ones.
I know, it’s morbid, but hey, it’s how my mind works.
Continuing my scan of the room, I looked down and saw the room had no fewer than five different drains.
Something dangling from the ceiling caught my eye. Looking up, I saw a coiled rubber hose and a metal arm which would allow it to swing out over the room. It reminded me of the stalls for washing your own car. Smiling, I realized why the room had been set up in this manner.
“Necropsies,” I said. “Although, I can’t imagine why you’d need so much space.”
Marianne regarded me with a smile and a nod.
“Not many people know that word. Nicely done.”
I shrugged. “Hey, what can I say? I’m a writer. I got some major negative feedback from the fans about it, but I did have one book that dealt with a mysterious rash of animal deaths. Thought it’d be prudent to look up the proper term.”
“Everything you need to run a professional animal hospital can be found in this room,” Dr. Rozhkov explained. “We call this the Infirmary. We’re fairly remote here, so we needed to be certain we weren’t lacking for anything.”
“What’s through there?” Jillian asked, pointing at the large double doors facing north.
“The way to our yards. We need to go back upstairs before we head outside. The snow has picked up and is getting heavier.”
“Do we really have to?” Jillian asked, worried. “I’d be more than happy to take your word for it.”
Marianne snapped her fingers. “I know what we can do. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you how we can finish the tour the easy way.”
“I’m all for that,” I said, grinning.
Five minutes later, we were seated at a console that I thought looked straight out of Jurassic Park. There were video screens everywhere. Banks of controls, digital displays, and computers covered every square inch of counter space and the main wall.
“Wow, all of this for your penguins?” I asked, amazed.
“This is our control center. From here, we can monitor every animal under our care, whether they’re out in the yards, or in their pens. We can monitor the weather over all ten acres at our disposal. There are cameras in the incubation room, food prep, hospital, and all throughout the three yards.”
Dr. Rozhkov pressed a button on the controls. The entire panel of security feeds went dark, turning into one giant black screen. Then, a new feed appeared. We were looking at a picture of an exterior exhibit, complete with a small lake. White artificial structures had been erected, made to resemble the ice formations found in Antarctica.
“Where are they at?” I asked, leaning forward. “I can’t see anything in there.”
“Woody and Buzz are both safe and secure in their interior kennels,” Marianne reported. “I’m sorry. I’m talking about our two colonies, by the way. Once the storm passes, and it’s deemed safe for the animals, we’ll then open the outer doors and let them out to explore.”
“Woody and Buzz?” I repeated. “We heard that before. Are those code names for your flocks? Uh, herds? What do you call a group of penguins?”
“It depends on what they’re doing,” Marianne answered. “If they’re swimming, then it’s a raft.”
“Just like the otters,” I said, turning to Jillian.
Dr. Rozhkov nodded. “Precisely. When the penguins are on land and walking, it’s waddle.”
“A waddle,” I snorted, laughing.
“A collective term you could use, if you just wanted to refer to a number of penguins, would be a colony, or maybe even a rookery.”
“A colony,” Jillian repeated. “This is the Caesar Center Colony for Penguins, isn’t it? The CCCP?”
“You’re going to ask me about the acronym, aren’t you? Well, what can I say? I wanted to come up with something that people wouldn’t forget.”
“It definitely worked,” I confirmed. “It made me look twice.”
Marianne pointed at the screen. “In case you’re wondering, there are ten breeding pairs in Woody, and six in Buzz. We have two exhibits that are four acres each. Woody and Buzz each have their own areas.”
“Do they need that much room?” Jillian asked.
“Those yards can each handle up to a hundred breeding pairs. We planned ahead.”
“What about the third?” I asked. “I thought there’s another smaller pen?”
“Yes. In case we need to separate one or more birds away from the others, we have a small, half-acre enclosure that can be used. It’s currently empty.”
CCCP’s director sighed and pressed a few buttons on her console. The display darkened a second time, and when it brightened, it was back to the grid with the multiple views. She slowly spun in her chair until she was facing the four of us. Well, make that two. Both dogs had settled to the floor and had their heads resting on their paws. Their eyes were closed and were softly snoring.
“Jet lag,” I said, by way of explanation.
“I’m sorry to drag you up here like this. I was desperate. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Tell us what happened,” Jillian suggested.
“Two days ago, one of the eggs hatched, and we had our very first captive-born bird. We were all ecstatic. This was our very first attempt! No breeding center has ever been able to produce results this quickly.”
“How many are there?” I asked. “Penguin centers, that is.”
“There are a number of breeding facilities,” Dr. Rozhkov told us. “However, less than a handful deal with Emperor penguins. They are notoriously difficult to breed in captivity. For some reason, the eggs never hatch. We don’t know what is happening to the eggs, only that something causes them to simply remain unhatched.”
“Go on,” Jillian urged.
“Yesterday,” Marianne continued, “our swing keeper was making her rounds, checking the colonies, the incubator, and so on, when she noticed the chick was missing. She assumed the baby had been returned to the parents, but no, it hadn’t. Alarmed, she got on the phone and woke everyone up.”
“No one knew anything about the chick, did they?” I asked.
“Not a word. You see the system we have here. Cameras cover everything, yet when I went to check the footage, it doesn’t show a thing. There are no gaps in the footage and there are no after-hour access in the logs. The security footage confirms no one else was on the premises, yet somehow, our chick has disappeared.”
“I hate to say this,” I began, “but have you considered it could’ve fallen victim to a predator?”
“I don’t think it was kept outside,” Jillian told me.
“It wasn’t,” Marianne confirmed. “That’s why you’re here. This couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. As you probably know, we haven’t received our accreditation yet. The inspector will be here in four days. If we don’t have that chick back here in that time, or else have a viable, plausible explanation why it disappeared in the first place, then we’re going to get shut down.
“Mr. Anderson. Mrs. Anderson. You need to know that I used every favor, every trick in the trade I could think of to get this place created. I, myself, worked in the animal husbandry field for over twenty years. I’ve used my own contacts, and former acquaintances, to secure our birds. I’m the one who found the investors. I’m the one who invested every last penny I had into this place. We need to be accredited by the fifteenth of this month. And, this being Alaska, I can tell you that winter usually sets in on the eighteenth, plus or minus a day or two. The inspector will be here in four short days. I can’t stall him, and I obviously can’t put the weather on hold. These dates are firm, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
