The Peco Incident (18 page)

‘I’m not going to tell him,’ said Cathy firmly.

‘Why not?’ said Nick, sticking out his chin.

‘Because he went on holiday this afternoon, leaving firm instructions that he was to be contacted only if there was a new biosecurity emergency.’

I was becoming more and more annoyed. ‘Have you told him about the rubbish?’

She shook her head.

‘What we found makes the penguins a new emergency, doesn’t it?’

‘Not yet,’ replied Cathy. ‘Well, at least not this morning. I found no indications of any problems, and I would have expected to, three days after infection.’

‘Are you checking every morning?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, you can’t be doing it properly,’ said Nick.

She gave him an angry look. ‘Then maybe you should come along in the morning and check up on me.’

‘We will,’ said Nick. ‘What time?’

‘Five should be early enough.’

‘Good, we’ll be there.’ He stood and moved as if he was going to leave.

‘Hold it, Nick,’ I said. ‘We haven’t heard about Harriet yet.’

That stopped him. He returned to his seat.

I turned to Cathy. ‘So, tell us the good news.’

‘OK,’ she said, hanging her head a little. I realized then that this news might not be so great either.

It wasn’t.

Harriet had been sent to a research laboratory that specialized in disease immunity. There, she’d be examined in the hope of finding out why she was not attacked by the H6N3 virus even though it was in her system. Cathy tried to talk it up, saying how important the information might be for the
future of all native birds, but she couldn’t hide the basic fact that Harriet was now a laboratory animal.

I’d hoped that Nick might calm a bit when he heard about Harriet. Of course he didn’t; instead he became even more upset.

‘Are they going to cut her open?’ he demanded.

‘There may need to be some surgery,’ replied Cathy. ‘There is talk of taking a sample from her spleen.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the spleen is a very important organ in the immune system. It makes the antibodies that help fight intruders.’

‘And when the scientists have finished with her, will they kill her?’

‘I don’t know. I couldn’t get a guarantee on that.’

Nick breathed deeply. ‘They will, won’t they?’

Cathy hung her head. ‘It’s possible,’ she admitted.

‘Why did you do this?’

She looked up, and I saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘Because the alternative was to euthanize her straight away. That’s what Colin Saxton wanted. A research lab was the only alternative he would consider. I argued for it because this way there is some hope. Don’t give up on her just yet. And please, don’t give up on me. Your support is all that I have.’

W
hen Nick’s phone alarm went off at four-thirty, I didn’t want to know about it. We hadn’t got home until eleven the night before, and I needed more than five hours sleep. Eventually, I dragged myself from bed, but only because this was a scheduled rest day and, after we’d checked the penguins, I could sleep all day if I wished.

Cathy’s car was not in the car park when we arrived on our bikes. There were no vehicles and no overnight campers. Even the rubbish bags had gone, which made the place a lot more pleasant than for our previous visit.

‘What shall we do?’ asked Nick. ‘Wait?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘But let’s do it up in the hide. Maybe we’ll see some penguins leaving.’

I chose a shortcut to the slope where Brio’s hide had been
built. It meant going across farmland, but the gate saying
Private Property
was open, so it was almost an invitation to enter.

There were rabbits everywhere, especially smaller ones. While the adults ran away, the juveniles preferred to duck down and hide. We got so close to some of them that we could have almost caught them.

At the hide, there was a shock waiting for us: several pieces of litter were lying on the ground. But it was not the littering that was disturbing, it was the type of litter — chewing-gum wrappers. I picked one up to study the label:
Made in the United Kingdom.
Brio had been back.

The wrappers were covered in droplets of dew, which suggested they’d been there all night. Nevertheless, I scanned the area to see if she was still around. That’s when I saw a vehicle parked amongst the trees: a silver-coloured car tucked away on a little side-track that led from the open gate. I pointed it out to Nick.

‘Cathy’s?’ he asked.

I shook my head. ‘Don’t think so. Hers is yellow. Anyway, why would she hide it away like that?’

His eyes opened wide. ‘Brio’s?’

Before I could respond, there was a sharp whacking sound from somewhere below us.

‘What’s that?’ cried Nick.

I kept quiet, wondering if it would come again. It did.
Thwack! Thwack!
This time I knew for sure what it was.

‘Somebody’s shooting,’ I said, grimly.

‘Not at us, I hope,’ said Nick, his eyes growing wider.

Instead of replying, I flattened myself on the ground, making sure the branches were screening me from below. Nick did the same.

‘Could be after rabbits,’ whispered Nick.

I nodded.

‘Might be that guy who yelled at us.’

‘Or it could be Brio,’ I said, thinking of the attack on the egg truck in Scotland.

We flattened ourselves more, trying to merge with the ground.

I checked my watch: quarter past five. Cathy was late. I hoped she stayed late. This was not a good time to arrive.

For the next three minutes I watched the seconds tick over. They seemed to pass slower by the minute. Beside me, Nick was absolutely still. I was sure that he too was thinking about the egg truck, and how dangerous Brio might be with a rifle.

When, after a fourth minute there still hadn’t been another shot, I decided it was safe to take a look. I raised my head and peered over the branches.

‘There!’ said Nick from alongside me. He was pointing to a grassy patch near the edge of the lupins. A male was walking slowly across the clearing. It was the same guy who had caught us going through the rubbish. This time he had a couple of rabbits hanging from his belt.

I started breathing normally again, realizing how tense I had been.

We watched as he crept across the clearing. He had the rifle
half-ready as if stalking something. Then he stopped and raised it to his shoulder. I was expecting him to shoot, but instead, after a moment, he lowered it back to his waist. He took a couple of steps sideways before sighting the target again. Still no shot. This time his body relaxed as he lowered the rifle. The target must have gone.

He turned and walked briskly across the grass towards the area where most of the penguins lived.

‘Look,’ said Nick, nudging my shoulder. ‘There’s something moving in there.’

It took me a moment to see it, but yes, there definitely was some animal shaking the leafy tops as it moved through. I glanced back to the shooter. He’d seen something, too, for he had the rifle in position again. But the moving animal couldn’t possibly be a rabbit. It either had to be a penguin or a sea lion — probably the first being that deep in amongst the lupins.

Then, as the thing moved into a shorter patch of plants, we saw a patch of colour. It was a T-shirt.

‘It’s Cathy!’ cried Nick.

I looked at the man to see if he’d seen her.

He hadn’t. The rifle was still aimed in the same direction.

I jumped to my feet. ‘No!’ I screamed. ‘Don’t shoot!

It was too late. Once again we heard the
thwack
of a shot being fired.

The gunman lowered the rifle and looked up at us, showing annoyance that we’d put him off his shot.

‘There’s someone in there!’ I yelled.

Even from that distance I could see a look of horror cross
his face. He began walking slowly towards the bushes.

I scanned back to where we’d seen the T-shirt. It had disappeared.

Then the lupins started moving again. There was still life in there, although it was impossible to tell whether it was human or something else. Whatever the cause, it was travelling through the lupins, heading towards the guy, who was now standing, unsure of what to do next.

Just before the movement got to the edge of the bushes, a penguin burst out into the clear, right in front of the man. I don’t know who got the bigger shock, but the penguin was the first to respond. It shot off to the side, skirting the edge of the lupins until it found a suitable place to duck in and hide.

As the bird disappeared into the bushes, a woman broke out of them, launching herself at the man, screaming abuse. But it wasn’t Cathy. Only one woman I knew moved with that rapid, bird-like motion. It was Brio. She was in full attack, bashing at the man with her fists.

He responded by holding up the rifle to protect his face. And yet she still kept bashing away. The man struggled to keep the rifle pointed into the air in case it fired.

Then Brio changed her attack. Instead of beating the man, she began wrestling for the weapon. My pulse went up another ten beats. This was the same situation as Nick and the kelp whip. What was she going to do if she got the rifle? Punish the man by shooting him?

Nick must have had similar thoughts, for he let out a deafening yell before launching himself down the hill.

‘No!’ I yelled.

‘Yes!’ was his reply without looking back. ‘I’m going to get the bitch!’

Below us, Nick’s banshee yell had stopped the fighting. They were both looking up at him as he bounded down towards them like some crazed mountain beast.

For a moment Brio looked around, weighing up her options. Then she let go of the rifle and took off, running towards the car parked in the trees.

I scrambled out of the hide and started down the hill after Nick. If there was going to be a confrontation, then the two of us might just be able to contain the madwoman.

Even though I was going as fast as I dared, my trip down the slope was much slower than Nick’s. I was only halfway down when Brio made it to the trees, with Nick about fifty metres behind.

I felt more confident when I hit the flat, and by the time Nick disappeared from view I was beginning to close the gap.

I reached the gunman, whose jaw was now hanging open as he tried to make sense of what was happening. ‘What’s going on?’ he yelled as I flew by.

‘Help us!’ I shouted over my shoulder. ‘She’s crazy.’ I didn’t turn to see if he got the message, but I sensed he hadn’t.

When I got into the trees, Brio had made it to the silver car. She was struggling to get into the passenger side. Behind the wheel was Roost, his eyes wide with shock.

‘Get moving!’ yelled Brio.

Roost kept staring.

Brio fell into the seat. She turned and slapped Roost’s cheek. ‘I said move!’

Roost moved. But he must have been unfamiliar with the car, for he had trouble getting it started. That gave Nick enough time to close the gap. Instead of going for a door he threw himself at the hood, with enough force to slide up until his face was against the windscreen. He started bashing at the glass with his fists.

The motor roared into life, and the car jumped forward with Nick now clinging to the windscreen wipers. The tyres sprayed me with dirt as the car powered towards the parking area. I ran after them.

When he got into the car park proper, Roost slammed on the brakes. Nick was thrown forward, off the hood, and down onto the gravel where he slid for a short distance.

A moment later the car was roaring backwards. I jumped out of the way as it skidded to a stop next to me.

‘Get him!’ screamed Brio. ‘Run over him!’

Roost was shaking his head wildly.

Brio’s face was distorted with rage. ‘Get him!’ she screamed again.

Nick was now on his hands and knees. There was no way he would be able to crawl out of the way in time.

The car began to move forward.

‘No!’ I yelled, slapping my hand down on the roof. ‘No!’

The gap closed.

It wasn’t until the last moment that Roost spun the wheel. Fortunately, the tyres had enough grip to pull the car to one
side — just enough to scrape past Nick’s head.

Roost then hit the accelerator and the vehicle surged forward out of the car park and along the road towards Portobello.

Through the rear window I could see Brio pummelling Roost with blows to the head. The car weaved as he tried to keep control. She was still hitting him when they went around a bend and disappeared from view.

T
here,’ said Cathy, repacking the first-aid gear back into the box. ‘That should keep you clear of infection. There’s no major damage, so all you need to do is keep everything clean.’

We were in her motel room. Nick, who was lying on the spare bed, now had patches on his knees and hands where he’d hit the gravel. As Cathy said, there was nothing greatly wrong with him, but that didn’t stop him hamming it up a bit. He lay there as if he was close to death’s door.

Cathy had arrived at the scene a minute or so after Brio and Roost had left. She’d been nearly run off the road by their car as it weaved its way towards Portobello. While she attended to Nick, the man with the rifle arrived.

‘Who was that woman?’ he asked. ‘She must be nuts.’

No one disagreed with him.

‘What was she doing in there anyway?’

‘Checking up on the penguins,’ I said.

‘Why? Are they ill?’

I shrugged. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Anyway,’ he said, quietly, ‘thanks for yelling out when you did.’

It was my turn to nod. ‘You could have killed a penguin, shooting into the lupins like that.’

‘Yeah,’ he admitted. He gave a crooked smile. ‘After this lot, I think I’ll do my shooting somewhere else. Too many crazy things happen around here.’ Shortly afterwards, he left.

We did, too, all piling into Cathy’s car, leaving our bikes to be picked up later.

Now, in the motel room, we filled Cathy in with all the details.

She listened intently, clearly concerned about some of the things that had happened.