"What will change their minds?"

"I don't know," Mindar said. "The chief of police is tight with the mayor. He's apparently convinced him that we should make a stand here in the hills, stop whatever is out there before it reaches downtown."

"It didn't work in Santa Barbara but let's try it again here," Gearhart said. "Show Gearhart how it's done. The bastards. That's the police chief's fuck-you to me."

"Not entirely," Mindar said. "The chief is also concerned that if we move in prematurely with our trucks and hardware, it could cause panic worse than the actual attack. Cars jamming the freeways, end-of-the-world parties, looting-"

"Are they at least evacuating people from the area around the tar pits?" Grand asked.

"Just from the Page Museum itself," Mindar said.

"That's not good enough-"

"They feel that if there is an attack in the area, night staff, cleaners, and security personnel in surrounding buildings are probably safer being inside than out," Mindar said.

"They're wrong. Don't they realize these cats are used to moving through tunnels?"

"Actually, it's worse than that," Mindar said. "They also won't shut down Wilshire Boulevard without a damn good reason."

"Isn't this reason enough?" Grand asked, sweeping an arm toward the blood-stained yard.

"Frankly, Professor, part of the problem-a big part-is that the head scientists at the Page Museum and USC don't believe there are saber-tooth tigers roaming the hills," Mindar added. "They aren't signing on to your idea that their destination is the tar pits."

"This is unbelievable," Grand said. "You've got five specimens up on Monte Arido!"

"Five specimens that only you and Hannah Hughes think are saber-tooths," Gearhart pointed out. "I still think they could be mutations, maybe lab hybrids or bad clones running around out there."

"They're not. I saw where they came from, where they were frozen."

"In any case, a paleontologist from UCLA is en route to examine the specimens," Mindar said.

"That's an hour or more, wasted. What about transmitting video?"

"We can't," Mindar said. "Our uplink signal could be picked off. In fact, as soon as news choppers started snooping around we had to tarp the tigers over. The governor and his advisors don't want those images getting on the news. Until there's a positive ID the police want to remain open to the possibility that they're escaped tigers."

"Escaped from where?" Grand said.

"There are a number of licensed, private owners throughout counties all the way up to Frisco," Gearhart said. "Big cats are the chic thing to own. Kitties of the rich and famous."

Grand couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"If it's any consolation, Professor," Mindar said, "Police Chief Mailer has taken the precaution of moving several barrels of tar to the site, in case they okay your plan."

"I hope there's time for all this caution," Grand said.

"For once, we agree on something," Gearhart pointed out. "Welcome to why I run my town the way I do."

Grand ignored him. "Lieutenant, do you have any idea how many people were carried off?"

"According to the guest list at the front gate there were eighteen people here when the cats struck," Mindar said. "The guest who found the massacre didn't see how many animals there were, and he only caught a glimpse of a few of them as they moved through the hills carrying a body each."

It would have taken most if not all of the rest of the pride to kill and then make off with twenty people. Obviously, the cats were staying together for the rest of their journey. Some of the cats would have had to make two trips, so wherever they came from couldn't be far away.

Grand looked out at the hills. He saw a few flashlights bobbing beyond the top of the hedges. "I've got to get out there and try to find out which way the cats might have gone."

"We've already got a small army out there looking for blood, footprints, pipes, large earthen openings of any kind," Mindar said.

"I know. I'd like to go anyway."

Mindar looked at Gearhart. The sheriff nodded.

"All right," Mindar said. "But we've got to do this through channels. Let me get an okay from Commander Heeger."

The lieutenant jogged over to Heeger and the men chatted briefly. When Mindar came back he called over an aide.

"Commander Heeger had no problem with you going out as long as you stay out of the way of his people," Mindar told Grand.

"No problem," Grand said. They were in the wrong place anyway.

Mindar asked his aide for a radio and a flashlight. The young man ran off to the Jeep to get them.

"The commander will let the field commander know you're coming out," Mindar said. "He doesn't want anyone mistaking you for a cat."

"Thanks." Grand looked at Sheriff Gearhart. "Would you care to come along?"

"I'll leave the zoological police work to you," Gearhart said. The sheriff looked at Mindar. "I want to go to the tar pits, see what kind of preparations they're making. I've still got friends on the force. I want to see if I can ratchet things up a bit."

Mindar's eyes shifted to the tail hanging from Gearhart's belt. "There'll be press down at the tar pits too. You should probably put that away."

Gearhart raised it slightly. "It stays. It's like we used to do with Cong scalps in 'Nam."

"This isn't Vietnam."

"It will be before the night's through," Gearhart said confidently. "Saigon, Day Omega. People shitting and running when they see what's coming at them."

"It's your ass," Mindar warned. "The press will eat it up."

"I've seen them today," Gearhart said. "These people are amateurs."

The lieutenant shook his head slowly, then called over a guardsman to give Gearhart a lift to the tar pits. Grand suddenly understood something about Gearhart He didn't care about his town. He cared about his side. Those who were on it got his support and protection. Those who weren't were his enemies. There was no middle ground.

As Gearhart left Mindar's aide returned with the flashlight and radio. He gave them to Grand.

Mindar looked at the scientist "Let me know what you find out there."

"I will." Grand said. "Thanks for your help."

"Sure. I wish it were more. I truly do."

Grand thanked him. As the scientist walked toward the gate at the back of the estate, he felt as though he were having an out-of-body experience. He was watching things happen with an inevitability and momentum he couldn't stop. Bureaucracy, politics, territorialism, fear, misinformation, stupidity-everything bad was coming together to make the worst possible decisions. But he couldn't allow himself to focus on that. He had to try and find out where the cats were and then get to the tar pits. He had a very bad feeling that if the cats did show up, tranquilizing them would be the last thing on the minds of the LAPD. Especially if Gearhart had anything to say about it He had to convince them otherwise, even if it meant taking point in any attack and trying to save at least one or two of the cats.

Heeger let Grand out and alerted his own units that the scientist would be moving through the hills. Flashlights poked through the trees and brush while a police helicopter and the Chinook circled the hills, its spotlight blanching the color from the trees and rocks. Despite Mindar's claim that they were being as careful as possible, the officers were crunching loud enough for Grand to hear and they were all walking upwind. If the cats were out there, these people didn't stand a chance. And while the officers were all over the map, they had missed two things. First, they should be concentrating on the southwest. The wind was blowing in that direction from the estate. Though wild animals shied from cooked meat, the smell coming from the fire pits might have attracted the cats. The second thing they should be focusing on was high ground. Animals preferred to run on level or downward-sloping ground to conserve energy and build up speed.