Tiger in Trouble (20 page)

“Mr. McCurdy?” Nick asked.

“I haven’t got time to explain all this right now,” I said. “I’ll tell Mr. McCurdy while you three go back to the cabin and get the video camera.”

•

We moved along the path. It was dark, rough and hard to move, but at least we didn’t have to be quiet. From the time we’d gotten even remotely close to Kushna’s pen, we could hear Vladimir. At first I was scared when I heard him yelling, but then he started to laugh, and for the past thirty seconds he’d been bellowing out some sort of Russian folk song — loud and tremendously out of key. I had to hand it to him. He did sound drunk. And more than a little bit crazy.

Clearing a stand of bushes, we could easily see the cluster of men standing in front of the tiger’s cage and holding flashlights. I could make out five figures as well as the darkened outline of a truck.

“Too late to look at animals!” Vladimir bellowed. “All come back to house for drink! Enough vodka for all!”

“You’ve had enough to drink for all of us already,” Mr. Armstrong stated loudly. He sounded angry.

“Too dark, too late to look at animal.”

“Go away and sleep it off!” Mr. Armstrong yelled.

“No want to sleep. Want to sing. Want to dance!”

Vladimir reached over, grabbed one of the men, picked him up off the ground and started to dance him around.

“Let me go! Let me go! I order you to let me down this minute!”

He was flinging around Mr. Armstrong!

“Sure thing, boss,” Vladimir said as he dropped him and he fell to the ground, landing on his bottom. Mr. Armstrong got back to his feet quickly.

I had to stifle a laugh. We were near enough now that they could hear me.

“This is close enough,” Samantha whispered as she stopped and took shelter behind some bushes. “I can use the zoom from here,” she said, her voice barely audible even to me standing right beside her.

Danny and Nick dropped right beside us.

“You guys no fun!” Vladimir yelled. “No want to dance, no want to drink, no want to sing!”

“For the last time I’m ordering you to leave!” Mr. Armstrong bellowed. “If you don’t, then I’m going to kick you right off the property! Now leave!”

“Vladimir leave. You no fun.”

We watched as Vladimir walked out of the halo of light thrown by the flashlights and was swallowed by the darkness. He continued to sing as he moved, and his voice slowly faded away until finally the only sound was the chirping of crickets.

“What now?” Nick asked in a hushed tone.

“We wait while Samantha videos — are you sure you’re close enough?” I asked.

“I thought I was, but now that Vladimir isn’t yelling, and they’re not yelling back at him, I can’t hear them. I can see them, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

“Then we need to get closer,” I whispered. “But not all of us. Danny, Nick, I want you two to go that way, circle around, but stay a good distance away. Samantha, you and I will sneak up until we get close enough to hear them.”

“This is going to be really hard,” Samantha said. “Are you sure we can’t stay here?”

“It’s no good if we can’t hear so —”

I was stopped by the rumbling sound of a car engine and lights bouncing down the path.

“Is that Mr. McCurdy?” Samantha asked.

“It had better be,” I said. I prayed it was him. This plan was shaky enough without anything else unexpected being thrown in.

“Move now,” I said to Samantha as I took her by the arm and we quickly moved forward. I figured the noise of Mr. McCurdy’s car would hide the sound of our feet, and that every eye would be staring at him hurtling toward them.

Keeping low to the ground, we moved from the cover of one bush to a tree, then to another bush, finally landing behind a thick outcrop no more than five metres away.

Suddenly the lights from the car illuminated the cover, blinding us. Panic-stricken, I flattened myself on the ground. The lights passed as the car turned, but for a few seconds I couldn’t see anything except the stars bursting in my eyes.

“Which one of you is Armstrong?” I heard Mr. McCurdy’s voice call out.

“Start videotaping,” I whispered.

“I’m Armstrong, and I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you have to leave right now!” he ordered.

“Who I am isn’t important. Why I’m here is. I want to make you an offer for your tiger.”

“My tiger … my tiger isn’t for sale,” he gasped.

“Sure it is, and this here fella, Emanuel, is buying it.”

“How do you know my name?” the little man questioned. Of course he didn’t know that we’d read all the e-mails.

“I know lots. Don’t get old without knowing things,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Things like the price you’re paying for a tiger and all the details about where and when and what you’re going to be doing.”

“Why are you here?” Mr. Armstrong asked. He sounded worried.

“I’m here to make you a rich man. This guy’s playing you for a chump. I’m prepared to offer you one hundred and twenty-three.”

“One hundred and twenty-three!” Mr. Armstrong gasped.

“That’s right. One hundred and —”

“We’ve got a deal!” Emanuel said. “A deal you’re going to honour!” He came toward Mr. Armstrong in a threatening manner.

“Honour?” Mr. McCurdy said with a laugh. “Ain’t no honour in anything any of us is doing here. This is about money, and I’m offering more right now right up front. Got it in my car.”

“Stay out of this, old man, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me,” Mr. McCurdy said. “I know what’s good for everybody. And I’ll soon see just how smart you all are.”

“Smart enough not to come out here by myself,” Emanuel said. “There’s four of us, old man, and you didn’t think that maybe we would be carrying some protection?” His voice was quiet and scary.

Mr. McCurdy laughed. “That’s good thinking. At least it would be good thinking if it wasn’t for the fact that all of you are standing right there together in the lights of my car. While my people, and there are five of them, are standing all around you in the dark, hidden behind trees … watching.”

“You’re bluffing.” Emanuel said.

“Am I?” Mr. McCurdy questioned. “Time for a little demonstration.” He turned and faced away from the men. “I don’t want anybody to stand up or reveal their location, but I want you to pick up a rock and throw it toward where these men are standing.”

A rock? He wanted us to throw rocks at them?

“Do it,” Samantha said.

I grabbed a rock and began to stand up to try to throw it when two rocks came bouncing into the light. One landed at their feet, and the second bounced and hit Mr. Armstrong in the leg, causing him to jump into the air. Awkwardly I threw my rock, trying to stay low. There was a loud smashing sound. In shock I dropped to the ground.

“You broke the side window of their truck!” Samantha whispered.

“If they can do that with rocks, you got a pretty good idea what they could do with rifles,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Now I think it’s time we did us a little business. Anybody want to hear what I have in mind?”

Nobody answered, but I knew I wanted to hear.

“I’m gonna make Mr. Armstrong one hundred and twenty-three thousand dollars richer. Do you want to be richer?”

“Sure, of course,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“And being rich is better than being in jail.”

“What do you mean, jail?”

“Jail time is what you get for killing an endangered animal. You should know that. And I’ve got enough evidence to put you all away.”

“What do you mean, evidence?” Mr. Armstrong asked.

“E-mails, pictures, recorded telephone conversations.”

“That was you who was in my house, looking at my e-mail, rummaging through my desk, answering the phone,” Mr. Armstrong gasped.

Obviously he’d found out somebody had been there. If only we’d had a few more minutes to put things back the right way.

“That’s why you decided to move a day early,” Mr. McCurdy said. “But we knew that, too. Your choice, Armstrong. You can be rich or you can be in jail. Make a decision.”

“And what about us?” Emanuel asked, jumping in before he could answer.

“What about you?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“You don’t just expect us to walk away, do you?”

“Nope. I expect you all to put your tails between your legs and run away — fast and far. And if I ever hear about you operating around here, around my territory, everything we have will be forwarded to the people who can put you away for years.”

“Are you threatening me?” Emanuel asked.

“Nope. Promising you. Go now while you still can.”

There was silence. Everything came down to this moment. What if he didn’t believe Mr. McCurdy? What if he wouldn’t go? What if they were carrying guns?

“Everybody into the truck,” he said, and the three men moved toward the vehicle. They climbed in and the doors slammed shut. Emanuel hadn’t moved. “I’m not going to forget you,” he snarled at Mr. McCurdy as he moved toward him.

“And I won’t forget you. If ever I’m thinking my memory is failing, I’ll just look at my pictures or listen to the tapes to help remind me. Get out now!” Mr. McCurdy barked as he stepped even closer to the man.

Emanuel hurried over to the truck. Its engine started and the lights came on. Before it could start moving Mr. McCurdy walked directly in front of the vehicle and held his arms up. “My men will be watching you the whole way out! Don’t stop, don’t slow down and don’t even think about coming back!” he yelled, stepping out of the way.

The truck’s engine roared and it started off. I watched it move up the path, keeping my eyes on it until it reached the top of the path and dropped over the ridge. I could still hear the engine, getting quieter and quieter until it faded away completely. Now not even the crickets were chirping. It was almost as if they were waiting for what would come next, too.

“So, you said you have the money with you?” Mr. Armstrong asked, finally breaking the silence.

Mr. McCurdy laughed. “I’ve got everything you’re going to need. Let’s just make sure we both understand what’s going to happen. You’re selling me your tiger, Kushna.”

“That’s right.”

“And I’m paying you one hundred and twenty-three thousand dollars.”

“Most generous,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“And you know what I’m going to do with the tiger, right?”

“Of course.”

“Explain it to me. I want to hear you.”

Mr. Armstrong hesitated. “Well, you’re going to … going to … dispose of it.”

“Dispose is such a polite word. You know that I’m going to slaughter it, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And then butcher it, remove the organs and grind down the bones to make herbal remedies.”

“Yes, I understand,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s just an animal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Mr. McCurdy said. “A cow is an animal. This isn’t just an animal. This is a tiger. An endangered animal. One of only a few thousand left anywhere in the entire world, and you’re going to profit from its slaughter.”

“Not just me. You’re making a profit, too,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“Believe me, I’m going to be making a good profit on this,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Vladimir, are you somewhere you can hear me?”

“Here!” Vladimir’s voice came booming out of the darkness. He walked into the light and stopped beside Mr. McCurdy.

“You … you … know Vladimir?” Mr. Armstrong stammered. There was enough light for me to see a look of complete confusion on his face.

“Told you I know lots of things. I also know I’m changing the deal.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Armstrong questioned.

“I’m not buying the tiger off you because you don’t own it.”

“Of course I own it!” he thundered.

“Nope, you don’t own the tiger, or that lion over there, or the deer. Nothing.”

“You’re insane! Everything here belongs to me.”

“Did belong to you,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“You get off my land right now, or I’ll call the police!” he threatened.

“Good, that would save me making the phone call myself.” Mr. McCurdy paused. “I want to show them the e-mails you and Emanuel were writing and, of course, the videotape. Sarah, Samantha, Danny, Nick, come on down here.”

We slowly got up. Samantha still had her eye to the viewfinder and kept taping as we walked toward them. Nick and Danny came from the opposite direction.

“You still taping, Samantha?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“Yep. I got it all. Everything.”

“Give me that camera!” Mr. Armstrong yelled. He took a couple of steps toward us, and I felt my heart race.

“You want arm ripped right off?” Vladimir asked, grabbing Mr. Armstrong, spinning him around and picking him right up off the ground.

“Let go of me!” Mr. Armstrong pleaded. “Let me go!”

“You are not boss of Vladimir anymore!” the big Russian yelled.

“It’s okay,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Put him down. There’s no need to break anything … if you don’t have to.”

Vladimir released his hold, and Mr. Armstrong dropped to the ground.

“Here’s the new deal I got for you,” Mr. McCurdy said. “You walk up to that fancy house of yours, take whatever you can stuff in your vehicle and you and your wife leave.”

“Leave? What do you mean leave?”

“Drive away and don’t come back.”

“I can’t do that,” Mr. Armstrong pleaded. “If I leave, I’ll lose everything — the house, the park, all the animals.”

“You’ve already lost everything. I’m giving you a chance to get something,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“What will I get?” he asked.

“Your freedom. If you leave now, I keep the video and you’ll stay out of jail. Stay, and I turn it over. You’ll go to jail and you’ll still lose everything. I’m only giving you this chance out of respect for your father.”

“You knew my father?”

“Sure enough did. Fine animal man he was.”

“But … but … this isn’t fair,” Mr. Armstrong stammered.

“Sounds pretty fair to me. Stay, and go to jail and lose everything. Or just leave and lose everything. What’s it going to be?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“I’m going to … I’m going to leave,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Good choice!” Mr. McCurdy exclaimed, slapping him on the back.