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“Crazy people don’t think the way we do,” Meera says glumly. “They have all sorts of warped ideas and plans, and if they gain enough power, they get to inflict their mad schemes on others.”
“Like Davida Haym in Slawter,” I note.
“There’s another possibility,” Terry says. “She might have done this for humane reasons. Maybe she suffered a moral crisis. Decided they’d been mistreating these creatures. Took them somewhere isolated, to set them free.”
“Unlikely,” Antoine says with a cynical smile. “Her people killed seventeen of our staff during the breakouts. Many more were seriously injured. Hardly the work of a good samaritan.”
“I’ve seen fanatics who think animals are nobler than humans,” Terry says. “They’d happily kill a human to save a dog or cat from abuse.”
“Prae Athim isn’t an animal rights activist,” Antoine says firmly. “I refuse to entertain the notion that she did this to free the specimens, that she stood waving them off as they returned to the wilds, happy tears in her eyes.”
“He’s right,” Shark says. “We have to assume this was done with the intent of creating maximum havoc.”
“So let’s track her down and stop her,” I snarl. “We can’t just sit here and talk about it. We have to… to…” I throw my hands up, frustrated.
“We all know how you feel,” Meera says sympathetically. “But until she makes a move, there’s nothing we can do. The world’s a big place. You could hide seven hundred werewolves just about anywhere. We can’t —”
“I could find them,” Timas interrupts. “If I had access to your mainframe,” he adds, smiling at Antoine.
“I told you — the records have been wiped,” Antoine scowls.
“It’s virtually impossible to wipe a mainframe completely clean,” Timas says. “That’s one of the reasons I was surprised you still used one. I can perform at the very least a partial restore.”
“We’ve had experts working on it for the last six weeks,” Antoine says sharply.
“I’m sure you’ve employed some of the best people in the business,” Timas says earnestly. “But I’m the very best.”
“Even assuming you could restore it,” Shark rumbles, “how would that help us? She’s unlikely to have outlined her secret plans on a work computer.”
“You can’t move that many bodies around without leaving a trail,” Timas says. “If I find out more about the creatures, I can use that information to fish for clues on the Web.”
“What do you mean?” Shark asks.
“They didn’t take the cages,” Timas notes. “That means they transported them in cages of their own. Once I know what the cages are made from, I can search for companies who specialize in this type of construction and find out if they’ve filled any large orders recently. If they have, I’ll learn where they delivered the cages to.
“If I can determine how the werewolves were tranquilized, I can track the drugs back to where they were manufactured, then trace them through delivery records.
“How did they transport the creatures — airplanes, articulated trucks, trains, boats? I’m assuming they moved at least some of them across international borders. There will be a trail of red tape, no matter how surreptitiously they went about it. I’ve followed such trails before and enjoyed a large measure of success.
“Do you want me to continue explaining or shall I get started?” Timas addresses this question to Antoine Horwitzer.
Antoine’s torn. “Is he really that good?” he asks Shark.
“Yes.”
“If he can do what he says… he will have access to confidential information. He’ll have to sign a privacy clause. We need absolute affirmation that he’d never reveal —”
“You present the forms, he’ll sign them,” Shark cuts in.
Antoine struggles with the idea for a couple of seconds, then sighs. “Very well. I’ll log you in and provide you with the relevant security codes.”
“No need,” Timas says, sliding into Antoine’s plush leather chair. “I can crack them. The exercise will serve as a useful warm-up.”
“How long will it take?” Shark asks as Timas’s fingers dance across the keyboard.
“A few days, I imagine,” Timas replies absently. “Quicker if we get a lucky break. Longer if she’s hidden her trail artfully. I’ll need complete privacy. And my equipment from the helicopter.”
“I’ll have it sent down,” Shark says, and ushers us out.
