McCague - The Rosetta Man

The Rosetta Man

by Claire McCague

Copyright 2015 by Claire McCague

e-Book Edition

Published by

EDGE-Lite

An Imprint of

HADES PUBLICATIONS, INC.

CALGARY

Notice

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You have to know everything about squirrels.

Because they know everything about you.

Bill Adler, Outwitting Squirrels

Contents

Prologue

Wellington, Present Day

The possum invasion was a serious problem. Millions of alien, Australian brush-tailed possums were munching through New Zealands bush, forest, and farmland. This guaranteed continuous research funding, which Harry Hatarei appreciated. It suited him to study an immediate threat to his home islands. That said, the problem had been around for a hundred and seventy years, and Harry wasnt cruel enough to solve it.

He pulled open the heavy middle drawer of his filing cabinet and sank a chipped coffee mug into the birdseed piled in it. His paper, which used road kill data to track possum populations, had been rejected and correcting it would require painful statistical contortions. The Maori professor preferred to tackle his research like a rugby fullback fiddling with numbers put him up the wall. Outside, the sun was pressing fingers of light through the cloud cover of a damp August day. He tossed the birdseed out the window of his cramped office in the biology department.

The phone rang as birds fluttered from the tree shading his window. He answered it immediately. Harry, here.

Its Ben. Do you have time?

Paperwork is quicksand, Harry answered. Save me.

Im tracking some critter sightings up by the Carter Observatory. Ben was a local park ranger often tasked with trapping pest-possums. All the reports are strange. Folks swear that theyve seen a couple of red pandas or wallabies or baboons, but the zoo has rattled all their cages and they arent missing a thing.

Youve got a problem if people cant tell a primate from a kangaroo, Harry noted.

Theres a fellow who thinks he saw two baby moa birds. Half the height of an ostrich instead of twice as big, Ben replied. If its a prank, the people making the sightings arent in on it. Im starting a grid search.

Im on my way. Harry hung up. Digging the keys for the biology departments animal transport truck from his pocket, he headed for the parking lot.

It took a handful of minutes to reach the hill that lifted a swath of green in the heart of Wellington. He turned onto an access road for official park vehicles and pulled off beneath a stand of possum-infested trees. Locking the truck, he hiked the trail to where Ben was organizing the search. A wiry bystander, who was loudly insisting the extinct moa bird had been resurrected from DNA fragments, greeted Harry enthusiastically, hoping for an expert ally. Harry pledged an open mind and extracted himself to join the grid search. After four hours, he asked Ben to call if anything dropped from the trees and headed back to where hed parked.

Blackbirds burst from the underbrush as he approached the truck. The doors on the box canopy were ajar and a glint of metal caught his eye. The padlock from the cage in the truck was on the ground, open and undamaged. He glanced around, figuring someone had tried to rip him off. Tugging the door, he let it drift open, looking to see if the departments shovel was still in its mount.

A glimpse of movement made him leap back. Two porcupines were hunkered in the cage. While Harry grappled with the incongruity of porcupines occupying his truck, their quills changed color, taking on the dark blue of pukeko birds. The skin beneath the spines was rust red. The one closest to him looked through the bars of the cage with pupil-less yellow eyes. Its oddly-knuckled fingers were wrapped around a short length of fallen wood, gripping it as any climbing mammal might. It turned the branch in its hand and then passed it to the second creature.

Harry stepped forward, bracing a hand against the door frame of the truck canopy. Youre not a possum.

Chapter One

Ten Days Later

Estlin Hume was ignoring the squirrel on his bedside table. The squirrels in the closet and under the bed were easy to ignore theyd settled and were dreaming quietly but the one on the table wanted to place a hand on his pillow. It wanted to line a nest with his dark hair. Any violation of the no squirrels on the bed rule would force Estlin to get up, fetch bricks and chicken wire, and deal with the latest security breach. So, he was trying not to think about the squirrel because thinking about squirrels only encouraged squirrels to think about him.

The cell phone on the bedside table buzzed. The squirrel became a projectile, leaping onto the window curtains. Estlins nerves jumped with it. He jerked against the bed, as though waking from a dreamed fall. The phone hit the floor as he fumbled for it with fingers that felt like they were the wrong size.

Squirrels bounded around the room. One of them bounced against the windowpane. The others scattered and climbed, collectively forgetting that theyd broken through the eaves of the old farmhouse and gnawed a gap from the attic into the closet.

Estlin grabbed the phone, checking the display. The caller ID was restricted. Hello?

Lyndie! Are you home?

Harry? Estlin recognized the voice immediately. Harry lived on the other side of the world and never paid attention to time zones.

Are you home, Lyndie?

Im in bed. Estlin sat up, leaning against the headboard. He raised a hand to quiet the squirrels.

Good, youre home. I assumed you were home. Hes home! Harry called out.

Estlin reached for the lamp, needing light. What time is it?

Its nine oclock here. Whats that there? Late or early?

Both. The old wood clock on the wall suggested it was two a.m.

Ive got a job for you. Harry was professor and possum expert who often sidelined with other species work that ranged from rat control to contracts with wealthy individuals who could afford a specialist when their exotic pets seemed depressed. An exciting job.

I dont like exciting jobs.

Yes, you do.

Estlin slid under his light blanket and contemplated the rain damage on his ceiling. His last working holiday with Harry had cost him too much. He accepted the medical bills, but the officious denial of the expense forms Harry made him submit to Victoria University had irked him.

I cant afford your jobs, he said.

This one pays. Forty grand for five days, plus travel.

Estlin froze. He lifted the phone from his ear and wondered why Harry was calling from an unlisted number. What kind of job is this?

The kind where we dont talk about it until youre down here.

Species?

Cant say, Harry answered. Lyndie, you cant miss this. Pack now dont pack grab your toothbrush. Your ride is on its way.

Forty grand?

No camels. I promise. Harry hung up.

Estlin looked at the phone. The squirrels regarded him expectantly.

Im leaving, he said and rolled out of bed. He pulled on a pair of jeans, slipped his wallet into the back pocket and dug through his underwear drawer for his passport. Stopping at the window, he heaved it open, propping the sash with a stick he kept on the window sill. All of you, out. Out!