Chapter 35

Dr. Pauling gazed across his desk at Dr. Miles Radner. The director of the Primate Research Center was in town to discuss an important matter with him, and Pauling had cleared his afternoon calendar to accommodate the man. Each held a porcelain mug of coffee.

“You wished to discuss Harry Olson’s departure from the university, I understand. That’s why we’re here, right, Miles?”

“Yes, sir. As I mentioned on the phone, Dr. Olson’s dismissal weighs heavy on my heart, and, while I in no way wish to relieve him of any responsibility in the events leading to his termination, I am here to try and negotiate his return to the university.”

“Yes, Miles, I understand.” Pauling rose from his desk and crossed the room to the door. “And that is why I’ve asked the chairman of the board of trustees to meet with us.” Pauling opened the door and ushered in Alistair Forester, who took the remaining available chair. After returning to his desk, Pauling continued. “Dr. Radner, this is Alistair Forester. Mr. Forester, please meet Dr. Miles Radner, Director of our Primate Research Facility.”

Forester nodded. He wore an immaculately pressed wool suit, his silver gray hair perfectly coifed. His right ring finger bore a large diamond ring. “Yes, I have heard good things about you, Doctor,” he said and held out his hand, which Radner shook.

Pauling cleared his throat. “Well, let’s get right down to cases, shall we? Miles here wants us to reconsider taking Dr. Harry Olson back into his old position. I am open for discussion on the matter.”

Forester frowned. “I would like to hear Dr. Radner’s reasons as to why the university should reverse its decision. Please, Doctor, enlighten me.”

Radner shifted his weight in his chair and smiled at the two men.

“Well, first of all, gentlemen,” he said, “Dr. Olson is nationally known in his field. And this notoriety brings the university financial gain. Second, he has served Cal Pacific admirably since Professor Kessler’s death. In fact, he was the Professor’s choice when it came to his successor. And during that tenure, Dr. Olson performed admirably. In fact, more than admirably. I would say all of his faculty heartily approved of his leadership and counted themselves fortunate to be a member of his staff. Third, many faculty members, myself included, do not feel that the unfortunate and misguided act of a new hire should be held against the man. He wasn’t responsible for Miss Harbaum’s actions. Finally, the Yeti Dr. Olson’s team discovered in Mongolia and brought back to our research facility has not only advanced modern anthropological science but has put Cal Pacific center stage in academic circles. The number of students seeking enrollment in the anthropology program here has increased significantly under his direction. It is for these compelling reasons that I humbly beseech the trustees to reconsider their actions and allow Dr. Olson to return to our university.”

Forester looked at Pauling and then toward Radner.

“Dr. Radner,” he began, “I appreciate your thoughts regarding Dr. Olson. No man had a better friend. However, even though I cannot argue with most of your comments, there is one I do take issue with. And that is that Dr. Olson could not and should not be held responsible for the actions of his students. To that, I would say that we hold our athletic coaches responsible for the actions of our student athletes. Why should the same standard not apply to our teachers? And I might point out that this was not the first instance we trustees had to question Dr. Olson. If you remember, we had a graduate student killed, and the Yeti housed at the facility escaped not too long ago. So, it’s my feeling that the recommendation of the board was entirely justified. If Reginald wishes us to revisit the issue, we will, but I doubt the result would be any different.”

Pauling cleared his throat again. “I feel I must interject a personal observation here,” he said. He nervously adjusted his tie before continuing. “There is a groundswell of support for Dr. Olson among the faculty, and it is building each and every day. Soon, I fear, we may have a full-scale mutiny on our hands. Dr. Rawlings has already threatened to resign and take her lucrative grant with her. Others may follow her lead. Ultimately, we may not have an anthropology department.”

“And one last thought for the trustees to consider, Mr. Forester,” Radner said. “There is a feeling that the board acted prematurely, in advance of any public reaction. Who knows what the fallout will be? It might be miniscule. And even if there is a public outcry, there is growing sentiment in Dr. Olson’s favor among the staff--that his termination was an overreaction by the board. Another reason to reconsider your decision.”

***

Harry’s cell phone jingled. It was Jacoby, and Harry paced Millie’s hotel room while he talked to the FBI agent. Millie and Siscom sat silent.

“Say that again, please,” Harry said.

“I said we have spotted a creature that matches the description of that thing...that...”

“It’s a chimera,” Harry said, irritation in his voice. “Goes by the name of Roku.”

At Roku’s name, Millie leaned forward in her chair, alert.

“Whatever,” Jacoby replied. “The Frisco police spotted it in Chinatown last night and gave chase. Fired a few shots at it, and may have wounded it.”

“Wounded it? How bad?”

At that, Millie began weeping silently. Siscom put an arm around her.

“We don’t know, exactly,” Jacoby said. “The thing got away. But the police have the area cordoned off, and they’ll find it. Only a matter of time.”

Only a matter of time, Harry thought. “He’s still in Chinatown?”

“Yep. And he can’t go far. The police have set up a command post, and I’m headed there now.”

“I know you have to capture him, Jacoby but please don’t kill him. He is valuable property.”

“I can’t predict what will happen, Doctor. If it threatens anyone, the uniforms will shoot to kill. You need to be here. How soon can you make it down to the Chinatown command post? I’ll give you directions.”

“I’m out of the area at the moment, but I can be there later this evening. I’ll make it as soon as I can.”

Harry jotted down the address of the command post and stuck it in his pocket.

Millie wiped tears from her eyes and nodded. “The police found Roku?” she said, sniffling.

“The spotted him last night in Chinatown and gave chase. Apparently, they fired a few shots at him. Wounded him.”

“How bad?” Siscom said, settling back in his chair.

“Unknown,” Harry said. “But the police have the area surrounded and have a command post in the vicinity. They’ll find him, it’s just a matter of time.”

“If they find him, they will kill him, I know it,” Millie said.

“Maybe not if we’re there,” Harry said. “We need to get to Chinatown as soon as possible, however.”

Siscom nodded.

“Millie,” he said. “How about you? You can ride with me, Harry, and Dixie.”

Dixie, who had been quiet during this last conversation went to Millie and gave her a hug.

“Come on, honey,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

“It’s now or never, Millie,” Harry said. “You can be of help, or you can decide to run. Were you living in Chinatown?”

Millie looked at him with doleful eyes glistening with tears. She nodded slowly.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve been outa my mind since Roku disappeared. I never expected him to attack me like he did. I always thought he knew I cared deeply for him.”

“What happened?” asked Dixie.

“He kept asking me questions about who he was, as if he finally understood he was different. Kept asking me why? It was frightening, actually. I guess he became frustrated when I didn’t answer, and he lashed out. He hurt me and left, and no one has seen him since.”

“Until last night,” Harry said. “Well, let’s get going. We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

***

The four-hour drive to San Francisco passed in relative silence for the car’s occupants. With Siscom at the wheel, Dixie and Millie sat in the rear but didn’t converse much. Dixie felt she wanted to be left with her private thoughts, so she sat quietly and watched the desert landscape roll by.

Halfway to San Francisco, her cell phone rang. It was Miles Radner.

“I wanted to bring you up to date on the meeting I had with Pauling and Alistair Forester.”

“Yes,” Dixie said. She kept her voice low, as she didn’t wish Harry to learn of her request of Radner. He sat in the front seat, chatting with Siscom, seemingly unaware she was on the phone.

“Well, I gave it my best shot,” he said. “But I’ve got to tell you, it’s an uphill battle. Pauling is going to ask the board to reconsider and use my arguments, but I don’t know. It’s a tossup.”

“I appreciate it, Miles, I really do. You are a true friend.’

She hung up, and Harry glanced back at her.

“Who was that?” he said.

“Miles Radner,” she said, not wanting to say more.

“Oh, yeah? What did he want?”

“Nothing, really. He just wanted to know if we had heard anything more concerning Roku.”

Harry nodded and returned to his chat with Siscom. Dixie felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She hated not telling Harry the truth.

***

It was after dark when they drove into Chinatown. Fortunately, the traffic was light, and they headed to the command post without much delay. Once over the bay, they turned north to the police command post located down the street from the Ritz Carlton Hotel. Here the streets were up and down the hills for which the city was famous. Siscom negotiated the car along the narrow streets until Harry saw the SFPD trailer parked in a small parking lot. Several black and whites were parked alongside. Siscom pulled into a vacant parking space a block down the street, and the four walked the short distance back to the command post.

Harry knocked on the door, and a ruddy-faced policeman in uniform answered it.

“Yes?” he said in a burly voice, eyeing each of them with suspicion.

“I’m Dr. Harry Olson. Special Agent Jacoby of the FBI wanted to meet me and my colleagues here at the command post.”

The policeman snarled and looked the three over.

“Just a minute,” he said. “Who are you?”

“Harry Olson. And this,” he said, pointing to Millie, “is Miss Harbaum, whom the FBI is seeking.”

The policeman stepped aside, holding the trailer door open.

“Come in,” he said, some of the gruffness in his voice gone. “Sit in those chairs there while I locate agent Jacoby.”

There were exactly four chairs in the cramped trailer. Besides a desk and filing cabinet, there was a radio transceiver, a large map of San Francisco on a wall, and a rack of riot gear hung in the trailer’s rear. Harry heard the policeman on a portable radio, requesting the whereabouts of Jacoby. The radio squawked a few times, and the man returned.

“He’s on the way,” he said. “Just sit tight.”

The policeman sat at the desk and thumbed through a stack of papers, occasionally making a note on them. Harry looked at Millie, who seemed as if she’d lost her last friend. Was this the right thing to do? he wondered. Suddenly, he was struck by the thought that she might not be able to get out of the jam in which she found herself, that Cal Pacific might not be willing to overlook her transgressions. If that happened, how could he ever look himself in the mirror?

He thought of the plaque with the motto that hung in his office. Veritas et honorem. Truth and honor. It had been his mantra ever since his own personal misstep years ago. He figured his past mistakes were forgotten until Dr. Wickingham’s arrival dredged it up again. Might the same happen with Millie? Was she forever doomed to be haunted by one act of childish selfishness?

Dixie, he noticed, sat next to Millie, now and then patting an arm, smiling. His wife had an amazing ability to look, and hope, for the best in an uncertain future. Regardless of the situation and how bleak things appeared, she believed all would work out for the best. And they usually did.

Siscom sat nervously in his chair, his hands fidgeting with themselves. Harry surmised he was feeling guilty for bringing Millie back to face whatever justice there was to face. It was obvious he cared for her--the poor man was in agony.

The trailer door opened ushering in a wave of Chinatown smells. Jacoby clambered into the trailer, followed by a uniformed policeman. His suit was rumpled, as if he hadn’t slept in several days, and his face sported a growth of beard.

“Good to see you, Doctor,” he said extending his hand. He shot a glance at Dixie and Millie. “And one of these ladies is our missing scientist?”

Dixie stood. “I’m Dixie,” she said. “Harry’s wife. This is Dr. Siscom, the facility’s vet. And--” She indicated Millie with a nod if her head. Millie smiled. “--this is Millie Harbaum, our missing faculty member.”

“I’ve met Dr. Siscom,” Jacoby said, “when I toured the research facility. Now, Miss Harbaum, please tell me about this thing you created.”