A moment later all three cats ran toward the ten-foot-high fence outside the art museum. The fence was made of thick, green metal bars with nothing to link them on top. If the saber-tooths didn't clear the bars they'd be impaled. Without breaking stride they gracefully leaped the fence and landed on the other side, in the Cantor Sculpture Garden West.

Mindar came up behind Grand. "It's like they've got goddamn wings!" he shouted as he raised his weapon. The metal slats were too close together to allow him to fire. Grand was already running back down Wilshire, alongside the fence, and Mindar ran after him.

The scientist looked to his left as he ran. The saber-tooths had become one with the darkness, maneuvering carefully through the life-size bronzes. They reached the Director's Roundtable Garden, slipped under and around the abstract by Calder, then pressed on to the outer rim of the tar pits. The surrounding fence was six feet high with metal mesh between dark iron bars.

Police were moving in on the east side of the fence. Suddenly, two of the cats leaped the fence in the rear. They raced across the dark lawn toward the museum itself. The third cat seemed to have disappeared. Mindar was looking ahead; Grand didn't think he noticed.

Grand suddenly stopped.

"What are you doing?" Mindar asked.

"There's something I want to check," Grand said. "You go ahead."

Mindar ran to join the police. Grand turned to the fence. He put both hands on top of one of the iron supports and swung his legs over the mesh. He landed on the other side, crouched, and looked around. He heard crashing glass in the distance.

That was probably the atrium, he thought. The saber-tooths may have been heading for the other pits and perhaps saw the familiar foliage. They'd have no idea what glass is. Or maybe the cats are being decoys again.

There were roars, gunfire, and shouts. They were followed by screams and more crashing glass. The police moved in en masse. Realizing that the wind was moving toward the east, he moved in that direction so his spoor would blow away from the pit There were life-size recreations of a family of mastodons on that side of the pit. One of them was "stuck" in the pit and moving slowly from side to side. Its huge tusks were upturned and its trunk was upraised and curled as though it was trumpeting in despair. Two other mastodons were standing on the shore, an adult and a baby.

Two years before-the last time Grand had been to the museum-this pit had been surrounded by small, thick palms. Now it was mostly sun-dried grass and open space, probably someone's idea of making the pit viewer-friendly. There were only two palms near the elephants, roughly twenty and forty feet tall. They had rough bark, like a pineapple.

Grand was still crouching. He got up slowly and walked behind the elephants. There was a rowboat on the shore tied to one of the trees. When the water levels were high enough at the pit, workers used it to fish soda cans and plastic water bottles from the tar. Grand stopped and untied the rope. It was a half-inch thick and about fifteen feet long. There were two oars in the rowboat. He tied the rope to the ends of the oars and draped it over his shoulder. Then he peeled off a large section of bark. All the while he peered into the darkness on the other side of the tar, watching for any sign of the saber-tooth that had stayed behind.

The smell of tar was strong as Grand moved around the edge of the pit. Puddles of water had collected in the center and around the edges of the tar, reflecting the streetlights. Small bubbles of tar popped just offshore while a larger bubble held its dome before bursting in what seemed like slow motion. As Grand rounded the mastodon, spotlights along the perimeter of the park itself began winking out briefly as something passed in front of them. It was large and moving toward him. He stopped beside the taller of the two trees and bent his knees so he'd be ready to move if it attacked. He began breaking the bark into smaller pieces and also used the action to focus his moat.

"They're in the atrium!" an officer yelled in the distance. "One of them's in the rafters. We need reinforcements now!"

The rafters were a design element, a network of metal struts that crisscrossed the top of the atrium. Police ran up the walk. Grand had known he wouldn't be able to save the other two saber-tooths. But if there was a chance to save this last one, he would.

As the saber-tooth neared Grand, it also came closer to the street. It began picking up hints of streetlight. This was indeed the leader of the pride, at least ten feet in length and just over five feet at the shoulder. Its fur appeared to be silver and there was a long, high ridge of hair running along its back. Like the other cats it held its head low. The saber-tooth also had thick, white whiskers that drooped beside its striated fangs.

The last time Grand faced one of the saber-tooths the cat had a companion. The scientist stole a quick look behind him, just to make sure there was nothing there.

They were alone. That was fitting for Grand, and maybe for the leader of the pride.

Grand turned back to the cat. It was about ten feet away and undistracted by the mastodons. Their unfamiliar odor and inanimacy obviously told him that they were not prey. He put his hands together and began crushing the pieces of bark. He needed to be the resolute hunter, but it was difficult. Grand was still a scientist. This was probably the largest cat that ever lived, a magnificent animal by any standard and something no living human had seen for thousands of years.

What was it thinking? he wondered. Was it confused, scared?

The cat certainly didn't show fear. Grand wondered if this pit had been his home, the saber-tooth's private feeding area. Perhaps the leader itself no longer hunted. Perhaps the other cats had gone to fetch prey for it. Offerings for the saber-tooth king.

The gunfire stopped. There was an eerie calm behind the pit. Then, in the distance Grand heard car engines starting, orders being shouted. A moment later the scientist saw a large police recovery van drive up on the walkway and stop between the flagpoles in front of the museum. Police medics ran out carrying stretchers and emergency medical kits. It wouldn't be long before Mindar, the police, or Hannah found him here.

The struggle was over and somehow the giant cat seemed to sense that. The saber-tooth stopped moving. Grand looked into the animal's dark, golden eyes. They seemed to lack the anger, the fire he'd seen in the eyes of the cat at the Juncal campsite.

The cat resumed creeping forward. Perhaps it wanted one last confrontation, to die in battle. Or simply to die. It was both sad and ironic that Grand and the saber-tooth both had the same thing in mind, the cat's survival, and that they have to fight one another to ensure it.

"I want to help you," Grand said softly.

The cat began to growl. There was something hollow, almost mournful in its cry. Grand finished crumbling the bark. His fist was filled with fine, spiky particles. If necessary he'd throw them in the cat's eyes, blind him and get behind him, use the rope and oars to create a tourniquet. Ancient peoples used to use them to tie people to sacrificial altars, twisting the sticks one around the other to make the bonds tighter. If he could get it around the cat's neck and tie it to one of the trees, he might be able to hold it there until it could be sedated-

Suddenly, police officers moved in from the west on foot. They were coming from the direction of the Ogden Street garage, which they'd probably just secured. The police were followed by a phalanx of squad cars, their red and blue roof lights flashing. Each officer was wearing a helmet and body armor and carrying a powerful Mini-14 rifle. Headlights and spotlights from the cars illuminated the street ahead and on both sides.