maintenance staff immediately waddled out, in green zoo coveralls. He had a bulbous nose and a gingery buzzcut and near-together eyes like a mandrill. ‘Can’t park there, fella.’
‘What’s it to you where I park?’ Nathan demanded. ‘You’re maintenance, not traffic management. Go maintain something.’
He climbed the steps and pushed open the double doors. The maintenance man said, ‘ Hey !’ but Nathan ignored him. He walked along the corridor to the very end, with the man repeating ‘ Hey !’ and ‘ Hey, fella !’ at regular intervals. He didn’t answer to ‘fella’, especially today.
When he turned the corner at the end of the corridor, he found Patti Laquelle standing outside his laboratory, wearing her red squall and a very short skirt and Ugg boots, chatting on her cell.
Patti said, ‘Millie? Have to call you later, babes. Professor Underhill has finally showed up.’
‘So how did you get in here?’ asked Nathan, as she followed him into his office. ‘This whole building is supposed to be restricted.’
‘I used my amazing charm, of course. And my identity badge.’
Nathan took hold of the plastic card that was safety-pinned to her windbreaker, and peered at it. It was a genuine Philadelphia Zoo Visitor ID, but on close inspection it was obvious that Patti had glued her own photograph on top of the original.
‘OK, I picked it up from your desk,’ she admitted. But then she said, ‘Did you see my article? I thought it came out really, really great.’
‘I haven’t had time yet, Patti. To tell you the truth, I overslept.’
‘It came out really, really great. At least, I thought it did. My Rotten Break: By Dragon’s Egg Egghead .’
Nathan sat down at his desk, and switched on his computer.
‘That was the headline? “My Rotten Break: By Dragon’s Egg Egghead”?’
‘You really need to read it,’ Patti insisted. ‘It’s totally simpatico . I put in all that stuff you told me about Alzheimer’s and cystic what’s-it’s-name and Parkinson’s disease.’
‘Good. Great. Thank you.’
He checked his emails. Patti stayed where she was, on the opposite side of his desk, smiling.
He looked up. ‘Did you want something else?’ he asked her.
‘Not really. I wanted to tell you that the story came out good, that’s all. And maybe I could do a follow-up.’
‘A follow-up?’
‘Absolutely. You are going to try again, aren’t you? You are going to grow another gryphon’s egg? I’d like to cover it right from the moment of concepción .’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what went wrong with this one yet. And it all depends on my funding. The Zoo isn’t going to give me a blank check to go on breeding mythical creatures if none of them survive.’
‘But they must . Like – this research that you’re doing, it’s much too important for them to pull the plug on you.’
‘Well, I agree with you, Patti. But tell that to the funding department.’
Richard knocked at the door. He had fastened his lab coat with the wrong buttons, which made him look even more lopsided than usual, and the parting in his hair was a zig-zag. ‘Morning,’ he said, looking suspiciously at Patti. ‘Traffic bad, was it?’
‘Like I was telling Ms Laquelle here, I slept late. Did you make a start on the necropsy yet?’
‘You’ve had about a zillion phone calls, but I didn’t pick up. I guessed it was probably the media, you know.’
‘I’ll deal with the media later. What have you done so far?’
‘OK . . .’ Richard took a crumpled Kleenex out of his sleeve and fastidiously wiped his nose. ‘I’ve taken DNA samples. I’ve taken soft-tissue specimens from the muscles and internal organs, including the liver and the spleen. I’ve also taken bone-marrow samples from the skeleton, and keratin from the feathers and the beak. I’ve started growing seven different bacterial cultures from the various body fluids.’
‘Good work,’ said Nathan. He was
‘What’s it to you where I park?’ Nathan demanded. ‘You’re maintenance, not traffic management. Go maintain something.’
He climbed the steps and pushed open the double doors. The maintenance man said, ‘ Hey !’ but Nathan ignored him. He walked along the corridor to the very end, with the man repeating ‘ Hey !’ and ‘ Hey, fella !’ at regular intervals. He didn’t answer to ‘fella’, especially today.
When he turned the corner at the end of the corridor, he found Patti Laquelle standing outside his laboratory, wearing her red squall and a very short skirt and Ugg boots, chatting on her cell.
Patti said, ‘Millie? Have to call you later, babes. Professor Underhill has finally showed up.’
‘So how did you get in here?’ asked Nathan, as she followed him into his office. ‘This whole building is supposed to be restricted.’
‘I used my amazing charm, of course. And my identity badge.’
Nathan took hold of the plastic card that was safety-pinned to her windbreaker, and peered at it. It was a genuine Philadelphia Zoo Visitor ID, but on close inspection it was obvious that Patti had glued her own photograph on top of the original.
‘OK, I picked it up from your desk,’ she admitted. But then she said, ‘Did you see my article? I thought it came out really, really great.’
‘I haven’t had time yet, Patti. To tell you the truth, I overslept.’
‘It came out really, really great. At least, I thought it did. My Rotten Break: By Dragon’s Egg Egghead .’
Nathan sat down at his desk, and switched on his computer.
‘That was the headline? “My Rotten Break: By Dragon’s Egg Egghead”?’
‘You really need to read it,’ Patti insisted. ‘It’s totally simpatico . I put in all that stuff you told me about Alzheimer’s and cystic what’s-it’s-name and Parkinson’s disease.’
‘Good. Great. Thank you.’
He checked his emails. Patti stayed where she was, on the opposite side of his desk, smiling.
He looked up. ‘Did you want something else?’ he asked her.
‘Not really. I wanted to tell you that the story came out good, that’s all. And maybe I could do a follow-up.’
‘A follow-up?’
‘Absolutely. You are going to try again, aren’t you? You are going to grow another gryphon’s egg? I’d like to cover it right from the moment of concepción .’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what went wrong with this one yet. And it all depends on my funding. The Zoo isn’t going to give me a blank check to go on breeding mythical creatures if none of them survive.’
‘But they must . Like – this research that you’re doing, it’s much too important for them to pull the plug on you.’
‘Well, I agree with you, Patti. But tell that to the funding department.’
Richard knocked at the door. He had fastened his lab coat with the wrong buttons, which made him look even more lopsided than usual, and the parting in his hair was a zig-zag. ‘Morning,’ he said, looking suspiciously at Patti. ‘Traffic bad, was it?’
‘Like I was telling Ms Laquelle here, I slept late. Did you make a start on the necropsy yet?’
‘You’ve had about a zillion phone calls, but I didn’t pick up. I guessed it was probably the media, you know.’
‘I’ll deal with the media later. What have you done so far?’
‘OK . . .’ Richard took a crumpled Kleenex out of his sleeve and fastidiously wiped his nose. ‘I’ve taken DNA samples. I’ve taken soft-tissue specimens from the muscles and internal organs, including the liver and the spleen. I’ve also taken bone-marrow samples from the skeleton, and keratin from the feathers and the beak. I’ve started growing seven different bacterial cultures from the various body fluids.’
‘Good work,’ said Nathan. He was
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