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what he’d said he was going to do. He had pumped in a lot of money to improve the place. It was more the way he acted. He was always ordering people around as if he were the boss. I guess with the workmen he was the boss, but he seemed to be giving orders to Mr. McCurdy and Vladimir, as well. Mr. McCurdy owned the farm, and Vladimir didn’t need to take orders from anybody. The strange thing was that they appeared to be doing what he told them to do. And while they were working Anthony just sort of stood there, off to the side, often half hidden in the shadows, watching. He had this way of looking at people as if he were judging them or trying to figure them out. It was unnerving!
    A couple of times he’d almost caught me staring at him, trying to figure him out. I’d managed to glance away quickly enough so that he hadn’t noticed.
    But what really bothered me the most — and this was almost stupid — were Anthony’s shoes. I guess they weren’t shoes, but boots. Pointy toes, heels, shiny boots that extended up and under his jeans. He was always rubbing the top of one against the back of the other pant leg or bending down and rubbing them with a handkerchief he had in his back pocket. And those boots weren’t made of leather. It was some sort of fancy material … like the skin of a snake or reptile or something. I wasn’t going to ask. It just seemed really strange that somebody who said he was so interested in the welfare of animals would so proudly wear the skin of some dead animal.
    Actually, come to think of it, I’d seen Anthony observing the animals, making notes, supervising the construction of new pens, talking about the animals, but I’d never really seen him appear that interested in the animals themselves. I’d never seen him “cooing” over the kangaroos, or petting Laura the cheetah or talking to Calvin. He even seemed nervous around Calvin. And I’d noticed that Calvin wasn’t offering to kiss him. That chimp was a good judge of people, I thought.
    The only good thing about those boots of Anthony’s was that they made a very distinctive sound. I could always hear his heels against the gravel, which was my cue to make tracks.
    “Hey, Sarah!”
    I turned around. It was Nick … accompanied by Anthony. As much as I disliked Anthony, it seemed that Nick liked him. Then again I just wished Nick was as good a judge of character as he was a character. I stood there waiting for them.
    “You should see Tiger Town’s website,” Nick said.
    “Tiger Town has a website?” I said. “I didn’t even know we had a computer.”
    “We have both now,” Anthony said. “State-of-the-art, top-of-the-line in both cases. We need to communicate with zoos, game farms, private collectors and animal dealers around the world.”
    “I guess that makes sense,” I agreed reluctantly.
    “Everything’s major high-tech, especially the cameras,” Nick said.
    “What cameras?” I asked.
    Anthony put a finger to his lips to silence me. “We don’t want people to know, but we’ve had surveillance cameras installed.”
    “I haven’t seen any cameras.”
    “That’s because we’ve camouflaged them,” Anthony explained. “I can see at least three of them from where we’re standing. Can you figure out where they are?”
    I looked around, first in one direction, then the other. I didn’t see anything that even remotely seemed like a camera.
    “That probably wasn’t fair,” Anthony said. “They aren’t visible, even if you know where to look. They’re hidden in the new lights that have been installed.”
    I glanced at the nearest light. A series of lampposts had been newly installed along the paths. They really did look nice. “Why do we need cameras?” I asked.
    “So we can safeguard our animals,” Anthony said. “We can’t be everywhere at once, but with the cameras we have extra eyes to make sure nobody does any harm to the animals, including things like opening up the cages. We don’t