Samantha's Talent (12 page)

"Oh. That's great, Dad. All the teachers were okay though, especially Ms. Smithers, but some of the kids I thought were friends made fun of me. They called me Tiger Girl and all sorts of other names." Suddenly she thought of the boy she had been attracted to and how hateful he had been and burst into tears.

"It's okay, baby. We'll get through it," her mother said and hugged her again. "Seeing you leading that tiger into the clinic and holding its paw while it got a shot and watching it licking your face made me realize what a wonderful, brave daughter we have, just as your father told me you were."

Samantha's tears continued and she finally admitted that she was crying more over Mark, the boy she had liked but who had turned out to be so awful than anything else.

"Well, just be glad you found out he wasn't a nice person now instead of maybe getting to like him a whole lot more and then finding out. You're a very pretty and extremely smart girl and there are many other boys who will see you that way. Don't you dare cry over
him
anymore."

The way her mother emphasized the last sentence made her laugh through her tears.
Mom is right
, she thought.
He's nothing to cry over.

Ronald took over for a moment while his wife saw to bringing some milk and cookies to the table.

"What's going to happen now, Dad?"

"We'll just have to play it by ear, Sammie, but whatever you do, don't let any of the kids at school bully you. Just tell them they could never do what you did in a million years, and that you're going to get a scholarship from the zoo for helping if you decide to become a veterinarian. And tell them it's very, very rare to be assured a scholarship for college at your age. I'll bet that's something none of them have. Don't brag, but don't let anyone belittle you, either. It's like your mother said. We'll get through this, so don't worry."

"We just about had to move from Alaska," Elaine said as she brought the plate of cookies and a glass of milk back to the table where they had all been sitting. "We had so few neighbors, and some of them who were natives who still held vestiges of beliefs from the old days. You know, from when Shamans and people with supposedly odd powers were both feared and venerated. Here, though, we have a large population and we also have social media to counteract any meanness that raises its ugly head."

"She's right, Sammie, and I want you to tell one or the other of us any time something like that episode Ms. Smithers related to us happens to you. We'll put a stop to it real quick."

"Yes we will," her mother emphasized. "But Sammie, there's still the business of you getting mixed up with animals. I know you have a special way with them but please, please try to avoid becoming entangled with any more of them where it would be noticed and never, ever tell
anyone
you think you can talk to animals. No one will believe you and doing so will only make fitting in here harder for you and for us, too."

"I'll try, Mom. I really will. Sometimes, though, I can't help it."

"We know, Sammie. Now let's let the matter drop and soon enough the stories will die down." She smiled, noticing again how pretty Samantha was and how she was changing so rapidly as she entered puberty. "Besides, before you know it you'll find another boy you like and forget all about Mark."

"Yes, ma'am." Samantha returned the smile but inside she knew that sooner or later she would get mixed up with another animal in need, or one just curious about her. She just hoped she could keep it secret next time.

Just as her mother had predicted, the hullabaloo over the tiger died down after Mr. Orleans threatened some of the media with suits for invasion of privacy. The news outlets and internet moved on to other events, except for one person. An enterprising free-lance reporter by the name of Jennie Standifer who lived in Houston and sometimes wrote for
The Houston Chronicle
had been fascinated by the story of Samantha and the tiger. She wondered if anything similar had happened to her in the past. She also happened to be an extremely good investigative reporter. She learned that the family had moved from a wilderness area of Alaska where there had to have been many wild animals around. She sent a query to the nearest stringer in the area. Stringers are individuals living in different areas who can be called on by large publications or internet news services to write about or relate stories from where they lived. Stringers also didn't mind digging up information on persons or places for a fee.

Jennie's stringer hadn't heard of Samantha Douglas but it didn't take long to ferret out where the family had lived in the little town of Wikluk. Jennie convinced him with an additional payment to hire a bush pilot to take him to Wikluk. There he found an amazing human interest story buried in the little town out in the wilderness. It took the local stringer only a few days to entice the inhabitants to tell about the grizzly bear, the pet moose, the wolves and the rabid wolverine Samantha had convinced to lay down and be shot to death with no apparent effort at all. He bundled up all the details and sent them back to Jennie's home computer, where she usually wrote her stories.

My God!
How on earth is a girl that young capable of such feats?
She thought as she read the email.
No wonder she had such an easy time taming the tiger
.
But how does she do it?
Before another hour passed she found herself driving north toward Lufkin where she intended to interview Samantha in person, if possible. She intended to talk to the zoo veterinarian as well. It was a human interest story that went far beyond that of the escaped tiger. She couldn't possibly pass it up, or so she thought. Along the way another possibility began intruding upon her thoughts. It would probably suit the family more. They were most likely sick and tired of the publicity if what she'd heard so far about the situation was true. On the other hand, she had a great story already, one that might very well gain her national fame--which she didn't really want. It might interfere with her other, more important profession. Upon further thought, she believed there might very possibly be something about the girl that would be more fitting for that other activity. She really didn't know. Her job was to call such unusual episodes or individuals to the attention of the agency she worked for and let them decide. Much more often than not, there wasn't any interest and she could do as she wished with her stories. She arrived in Lufkin still undecided about how to proceed, other than definitely having made the decision to notify her superior.

***

"This is kind of interesting but I don't know that it would be of any use to us," David Marston said.

Jane Carruthers, his partner and associate, come over from her desk to see what he was talking about. She leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "What is it?"

"One of our outside agents brought this to Anton's attention and he passed in on to us. It's a young girl who apparently can talk to animals." David grinned at the obvious exaggeration of the report. His facial features improved with the humor he displayed, drawing attention away from his slightly overlarge nose.

Jane shrugged and brushed a strand of taffy-blond hair from her face that had fallen when she leaned over him. "I've run across stranger things in this business."

"So? You think we should follow up on it?"

She considered for a moment. "Umm. No, I think not. Not now, anyway. She's pretty young to be involved in our business. Why don't we just list the ID number the agent who brought it to his attention, then flag the girl's name, along with any background you can find on her. List the circumstances and log it for follow up and possible use later on."

"Sounds good to me. Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. This will give us something new to talk about."

"It is interesting, isn't it?"

"Very." Jane went back to her own desk. For a while she sat and mused over the report but finally shook her shoulders and got back to work.

That evening at the restaurant after they had ordered, David pushed a folder containing several pages of printout across the table to Jane.

"What's this, David?"

He grinned. "You wanted background on our young Dr. Doolittle? Get a load of this!"

"Who's Doolittle? Seems like he was a bomber pilot way back in WWII, wasn't he?"

"No, but never mind. Just read this and tell me what you think now." She shrugged and took the folder, then opened it and began reading. A few minutes later she dropped it onto the table and stared at him, dinner momentarily forgotten. "Is this all true?"

"If you believe the bit about the tigers, then you just about have to believe this, too."

"But... but controlling a rabid wolverine? And a grizzly bear mother with cubs? Or wolves? What is she, a magician of some kind?"

"Nope, just a normal young girl who happens to be able to talk to animals. She is extra-bright, though. I think we'd better keep a closer watch on her than we planned originally and not just depend on news reports, don't you?"

"Definitely. And David, I do believe we should keep our eyes open for signs of the other agencies that might be interested in her. I'd hate to see the NSA or FBI or even our own military grab her."

"I would, too. She's not even thirteen, yet."

"That wouldn't matter to them. They'd want her to talk seals into diving into submarines with explosives or crap like that. Frankly, I think her potential, if it's all true, is worth much more to the country than for uses like that. You know that's how they think, though."

"Unfortunately. I also know I can't shake loose from my part of the project we're assigned to right now. How about you?" David raised his brows.

"I doubt it. I'm in it up to my eyeballs. I'll have to talk to the boss, but he's usually open to the odd and not so obvious potential like this girl has shown. And remember, he didn't know about this other stuff you've dug up. Hey! You've heard about that new
wunderkind
kid, Juan Carrerea, that's coming aboard, haven't you? Why don't we see if McAllister will let him handle it? He could keep a permanent watch on her."

"Suits me. That way you won't be so busy and can keep dating the best looking scientist in the agency so he can keep you out of trouble." He paused dramatically. "The things I do for my country."

She smiled at him. "He's more likely to get
me
into trouble but I suppose I'll just have to suffer. In fact, he could probably entice me into a drink at his place if he took me somewhere for a little dancing first."

"Is that all?"

She grinned impishly. "That depends on how well you dance."

***

Anton McAllister eyed Jane, who was sitting on the other side of his desk. "I read the same story, too, remember? I'm the one who handed it off to you. But you say you have more information about her?"

"Yes, sir. Quite a bit more, actually. Enough that I think someone should be assigned to watch her."

"It will have to really be good for us to assign an agent." He noticed the folder she was holding and pointed a finger. "Is that it?"

"Yes, sir. It's everything I've found so far. I'm not guaranteeing there's not more, but what I do have is fantastic enough."

"Let's see it, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir." She handed him the folder then sat quietly while he skimmed through the pages quickly. He glanced at her with an enigmatic expression on his face then began reading again, from the start, and much more slowly. When he was finished he looked up.

"Jane, I appreciate the work you've done here and for your acumen in bringing the rest of this story to my attention. I'll need to think about it, but... could you return here first thing tomorrow morning?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. I'll see you then." He stood up and, uncharacteristically, escorted her to the door. He closed it behind her and returned to his desk. For long minutes he sat there, thinking. Could it be possible that the Douglas girl might be the key to solving a problem the agency had been perusing for years without success?

He didn't know whether she was or not but there was no doubt in his mind that she should be watched and protected. He could just see her being suborned into working for a nefarious unit of the CIA, the NSA or one of the other agencies gathered under Homeland Security's umbrella. They all had their dark side and he had heard rumors that Homeland Security was forming a clandestine unit of agents theoretically responsible to the NSA but in reality directly controlled by HS.

The problem was that both Jane and David Marston were top-notch scientists but neither was trained in what was called trade craft. Nor could either of them be told exactly why he wanted the girl protected. Even the sitting president didn't know, although his predecessor did. The man residing in the White House now had been deemed untrustworthy. Fortunately he would soon be gone and his successor
could
be trusted. However... there existed a couple of agents of his own at large, masquerading in fields that gave them freedom of movement while they gathered data which might be useful. He immediately thought of one of them, the best one, in his opinion. She actually earned a living at her other occupation and was the agent who had forwarded the original story to his attention. He decided to contact her, then have her and the two scientists cooperate. Each would continue to practice their chosen profession while data accumulated on the girl. It wasn't as if she could be used at the present time even if her talent did prove to be the key they had been looking for. That time was several years off as yet. Probably.

In the meantime, Jane's suggestion to assign the new kid to the girl appealed to him. He was only twenty-one but already had his doctorate in physics and was proficient in several other specialties. A multitasker and a polymath by all accounts. He could handle the girl and his regular projects as well. Him being young was a definite plus, too. Anton himself had been out here on the west coast with his tiny unit for years, split off from the main agency back east. He might remain for years more, if he lived that long. He had only to look in a mirror to see how old he'd gotten.