Reptilia: International Edition

English)

1

Thursday, February 4th

The Congo Rain Forest

A nameless eternity.

A world of jade.

A forgotten kingdom full of wonders.

The jungle covered the land like a festering, steaming ocean of chlorophyll, sluggishly beating against the shores of time, yet ready to absorb the light of the sun that was rising above the horizon. A new morning was spilling over the treetops, driving the darkness into the depths of the jungle.

With the light came the voices. The shrieks of gray parrots, the chattering of chimpanzees and the chirping of birds. Splashes of color rose out of the protective canopy to catch the first rays of light. Swallowtail, peacock and monarch butterflies circled each other in the heavy scent of the flowers, dancing a dizzying, intoxicating dance, interrupted only by the occasional appearance of a lily-breasted roller which, after a brief flash of its steel-blue plumage, would disappear again into the darkness with a beak full of food for its every-hungry brood.

Daylight would soon arrive in the depths of the jungle where it had been raining all night. The morning mist hung amidst the mighty trunks of the giants of the jungle like a fallen cloud, absorbing every sound.

Egomo ran nimbly over the ground, which was covered in an ankle-deep layer of semi-decomposed plant material. The ground was soft and bounced with every step. The Pygmy warrior ran so swiftly that one could almost imagine he was an antelope. He slipped through the twilight, dodging thorny undergrowth and diving under tall roots. The drops of sweat on his skin sparkled like crystals in the first light of morning.

Egomo, a member of the Bayaka tribe, had left the simple grass huts of his village early that morning and plunged into the rain forest. The purpose of his hunt was to find the dwarf elephant, a mysterious creature that everyone, except himself, believed to be mere fantasy.

Some said it was just a young doli, which is what the Bayaka called the shy forest elephants. But he refused to listen to their talk. He knew that the dwarf elephant was not a fantasy, and he was sure he knew where to look for it.

He made his way through the thicket with springy steps. Somewhere over the horizon the sun had risen, but down here in the realm of eternal twilight there was only silence.

Egomo was the only one of this tribe who claimed to have seen the dwarf elephant, but it had been three years since he had stood face-to-face with the shy inhabitant of the marsh forests. Since then, not a day had passed without his mentioning it or thinking about it. His story had caused great skepticism, but also great curiosity. Even the experienced hunters listened spellbound to his words and he had to retell the fateful encounter again and again. The mud-covered dwarf elephant had stood only a few meters away from him, half hidden in the meter-high marsh grass surrounding Lac Télé. The alert beast had noticed Egomo at once, but had lingered a few more seconds before vanishing into the water with a snort. Perhaps the reason only Egomo had ever seen the elephant was that none of his people had ever ventured so near the accursed lake. Lac Télé lay in the forbidden zone where it was rumored that a monster lived where it waited, deep down on the bottom of the lake, for some careless person to venture too close to the mirror-like surface of the water so that it could grab them and pull them into the verdant depths. Although no one had even seen this creature before, all the Pygmies within a radius of a thousand kilometers knew of the myth of Mokéle m’Bembé which, according to legend, was so enormous that it could hold back entire rivers. Rumors persisted that one of the monsters had been killed over thirty years ago. But by whom, no one knew. Nor did anyone know what had been done with the carcass. If you asked for details, you were told that they had heard it from a friend of a friend of a distant relative, who was most likely no longer alive. That was how it always was with such stories.

Egomo paused and looked up in order to get his bearings. He did not believe in the existence of the monster. He was convinced that the story had been made up in order to frighten small children into obeying their parents. On the other hand, the dwarf elephant really did exist, and so did Lac Télé. Just how closely Egomo’s fate was linked to the lake had become apparent the day a white woman came to his village along with some companions. That had probably been six or seven months ago. She had heard from neighboring tribes that he was the only one who dared to venture into the forbidden zone. She had praised him for his bravery and began showering him with presents in order to learn about the lake and its secrets. But after a while, her curiosity had begun to annoy him, so he publicly proposed to her and the flattery stopped. But in the meantime, his reputation among the villagers grew considerably. It wasn’t that he had thought there was ever a chance this woman would marry him. Rather, he had only wanted to make Kalema jealous, and that, he believed, he had achieved. Of course, she did not show it. But on one or two occasions he had caught her looking at him longingly. He knew then that she was as in love with him as he was with her. Now all he needed to do to win her over was a little time and some luck with his hunting. Egomo was determined to kill the dwarf elephant and return to the village with the dead animal. And if he couldn’t bring the entire animal back, he would at least bring the head, a foot or a tusk. The main thing was to bring back some kind of trophy.

What had happened to the white woman, he didn’t know. She had disappeared about a week ago. It was said that she had gone to Lac Télé, but he had not seen or heard from her since.

Egomo heard a deep, rumbling roar echo through the jungle and he stopped dead in his tracks and looked up. He had never heard anything like it before. It didn’t sound like a hippo, water buffalo or any of the other strange big animals. This sounded like something different, almost unearthly.

Even the sounds of the other forest dwellers suddenly ceased. It was as if the jungle had suddenly turned into one giant, listening ear. Egomo backed up against a tree trunk, reached for his crossbow and held his breath.

He heard the noise again a short time later, but this time it sounded more like a howl, like the howl of the wind sweeping over the treetops. It seemed to last forever before it finally died away in the distance.

A chill went up Egomo’s spine. The howl had sounded like a mixture of anger and grief, and for a moment, he wondered if it might be one of those giants that could often be seen eating its way through the forest. One of those rusty, stinky monsters that devoured whole trees in order to make way for roads. No, he decided, they sounded different. They didn’t have a soul.

The roar was coming from an animal. A very big animal.

And it was coming from exactly the same direction he was going.

2

Friday, February 5th

Along the California coast

The drop of sweat running down my temple felt like and insect trying to bore into my skull.

I tried to clear my thoughts. How long had I been traveling? Was it ten hours, twelve or fourteen? I had lost track of time somewhere shortly after the aircraft had started its approach to San Francisco. Why was I even here and what was in store for me? I tried to focus, but the sight of the whirling rotors above my head ruined my concentration.

You really don’t have any idea why Lady Palmbridge invited you, Mr. Astbury? The pilot’s voice coming through the headphones momentarily drowned out the roar of the helicopter’s turbine. It was only with great difficulty that I was able to tear my eyes away from the view of the Pacific, which was surging against the Big Sur Coast. The sight was strangely unreal and I had to force myself to keep my thoughts from straying again.

I bloody hell wish I knew, I replied, looking up. Do you seriously think I would have squeezed into this jacket and leather shoes if I had suspected that it was anything other than just a cozy get-together?

Then you think it’s something else?

To be honest, I don’t have the slightest idea what to expect. All I know is that I’m coming straight from London and that I long to get back into my sweatshirt and jeans in my suitcase.

The pilot turned around and examined my clothes. From the look I saw reflected in the mirror, he seemed to approve.

You made the right choice, Mr. Astbury. As you know, Lady Palmbridge comes from old English nobility and she appreciates nice clothes, even though she has become somewhat more relaxed now that she lives in the US. But you should work on your tie. The knot is crooked. My name is Benjamin Hiller, by the way. I’m Mrs. Palmbridge’s personal assistant. To be more specific, I’m in fact her pilot, chauffeur and her gofer. Since the passing of her husband five years ago, she needs me more than ever. Just call me Ben.

He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

David, I said curtly.

Ben’s hand felt warm and dry, completely unlike my own. I stared down at the mirror-like surface of the water all the while having a rising suspicion that I looked embarrassingly nervous. When it came to ties, I was completely clueless and without a mirror, I was totally helpless. I never wore the things if I could avoid it. What’s more, I hated them, even though in England, one was almost born with one. Maybe that was why. Suits and ties - all the attributes of a successful businessman - were precisely the kinds of things I could do without. They were nothing more than protective armor, which one used to arm oneself against everyday life and only served to make one appear invulnerable.

I fumbled with the knot, wondering for a moment whether I should tell him that Lord and Lady Palmbridge were my father’s childhood friends and that their daughter Emily was my first great love, but I quickly rejected the idea because I didn’t want to distract Hiller unnecessarily. He seemed to like showing off by flying over the mountains at low altitude. Ahead of us, a flock of seagulls scattered in all directions. They looked like snowflakes in the early afternoon light. I was just about to ask whether the birds could pose a danger when I noticed Hiller’s grin. He appeared to be waiting for just that fearful demurral and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I wondered what it would be like if one of the rotor blades struck one of the cliffs and flew off into the sea in a high arc.

Not a good thought.

What’s she like, I asked, trying to distract him.

Who? Lady Palmbridge? I thought you knew each other. I heard she was a good friend of your father’s.

I raised an eyebrow. Miller seemed to know more than I had thought. Yes, that’s right, I replied. But I was just ten when the Palm ridges visited us at our country estate. Lord Palmbridge and my father used to do a lot of business together, but that was mostly in London. I only met Lord and Lady Palmbridge personally on that one occasion because they left England shortly thereafter and moved to the United States. We lost contact after that.

Ben took the chopper to an altitude of around a hundred and fifty meters and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Palmbridge has changed a lot since the death of her husband, he said. By the way he talked, he appeared to like his boss. "

Did they tell you about the package? I shook my head and looked at him questioningly. She received it about a week ago. There was something in it that deeply affected her. It was from her daughter.

From Emily?

Did you know her? Ah yes, of course. You both lived in Hever, right? Wasn’t that where Winston Churchill had his country estate?

I nodded. He lived nearby, in Chadwell.

An aristocratic area. Emily told me a lot about it and showed me pictures of the fine brick homes. You can imagine that for a boy like me from the Bay Area, her stories about her excursions, butlers and banquets would all sound like a tale from the Thousand and One Nights.

How long have you and Emily known each other? I asked, feeling a touch of jealousy begin to nibble at me.

I’ve been working at the Palmbridge Manor ever since I was nineteen. My Uncle Malcolm was employed there. For me, it was like an opportunity you only get once in a lifetime. I’ve never regretted it. And Emily is absolutely enchanting.

I nodded. That’s her. But we were just kids back then. My thoughts turned to the past and I realized how often I had thought of her. Emily, without even wanting to, had become an integral part of my life – and that, in spite of the fact that I had no idea what she might be like now as a grown woman. In retrospect, all the girlfriends I had ever had over time had had to compete with that shadowy image. A difficult task, and perhaps that was the reason why none of my relationships had ever lasted more than half a year. The latest victim of this fear of commitment was Sarah, who was probably red-faced with anger while she waited for an explanation for my sudden disappearance. And rightly so.

Is everything OK? Hiller’s question brought me back to the present. I’m sorry, I replied. I was just thinking. What was in that package that upset the old woman so much?"

I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be able talk to you about it. That is just between you and Mrs. Palmbridge and that’s why she had you come. I can only tell you this: It has something to do with Emily’s trip to the Congo.

My fatigue suddenly vanished. What in God’s name was she doing there? A civil war has been raging in that area for years. Over five million people have been slaughtered there.

Hiller shook his head. Not quite. You’re referring to what is happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo, formerly Zaire. Emily, however, is in the Republic of Congo, which lies to the west of it. A much smaller country that up until now has been peaceful. But according to the information I have, that situation may not last long. Everything’s getting pretty complicated. But right now, you’ll have to excuse me because that’s the Palmbridge Manor up ahead and I have to start preparing for landing. With a curt smile, he buried himself in his instruments.

Emily in the Congo? Had she gotten lost somewhere in darkest Africa? I suddenly realized just how little I knew about Emily. For all these years she had always been just a little girl with long blonde braids for me. But unlike me, she seemed to be leading an adventurous life.

While I tried to sort out my thoughts, a peninsula, which jutted out from the cliffs in front of us, appeared It was crowned by a building that was remarkably similar to the former Palmbridge mansion in Hever, although it somehow seemed to have grown in some grotesque way. It was as if they had confused inches with centimeters when they transferred the blueprints. On the other hand, its dimensions were in accordance with the American penchant for exaggerating size. The brick on the four corner towers, stretching toward the sky like fingers, was shining brightly in the afternoon sun. A road that ended in a spacious parking lot lined with pine trees, led over the narrow peninsula toward the Palmbridge estate. Several cars were parked there; all of them luxury sedans, I realized with some envy. The Palmbridge’s genetic research seemed to be paying off. As far as I knew, she ran a research center somewhere in the California desert.

Please hold on, we’re about to land, Hiller informed me, easing the chopper into a gentle left turn and softly setting down on the lawn beside the parking lot. After a barely noticeable jolt, the turbine died.

We’re here, he said, beaming at me while removing his helmet. Welcome to Palmbridge Manor.

He sprang out of the helicopter, ran around the silver nose, opened my door and helped me unbuckle my seatbelt. I got out, relieved to finally feel solid ground under my feet again. I started to get my luggage out of the back, but Hiller waved me away.

Just leave it, David. I’ll take it to your room for you. I suggest you just walk straight ahead. The other guests have already arrived and Lady Palmbridge hates tardiness. He gave me an encouraging nod.

I hesitated on the grass for a moment, my arms dangling limp against my sides like those of a puppet. Hiller seemed to notice my hesitation and encouraged me: Don’t worry. Just go up to the main entrance. Aston will open the door for you.

I gathered my wits together and headed toward the magnificent mansion, the gravel crunching beneath my leather soles as I crossed the parking lot. After consulting my watch, I saw that the San Francisco fog had caused me to be a half an hour late.

At the entrance, I looked around in confusion. I couldn’t see a doorbell, only a massive cast-iron knocker in the shape of a dragon’s head grinning maliciously at me. I gathered up all my courage and used it to knock on the door. My knocks echoed dully into the depths of the house. I waited a while, and just when I was beginning to think that no one had heard me, I heard shuffling footsteps coming from inside. Someone began fumbling with the door lock and then the heavy door swung open on its hinges.

An old butler in full array opened the door with a look that spoke of the glories of earlier times. He had to be an import from England because no American could have exuded such tight-lipped dignity.

If you please, sir, my name is Aston, he said, introducing himself in a raspy voice. Who may I say is calling on Lady Palmbridge?

David Astbury.

Please follow me into the parlor, sir. You are expected.

When I crossed the threshold, it was like being transported back in time. I caught the scent of exotic flowers, just like twenty years ago when I first entered the Palmbridge home. To the right of the entrance stood a man-sized vase where strange orchids, the likes of which I had never seen before in any of my botany seminars, were growing. On the left was a small forest of rare bonsai trees that reaching for the light of day. I sighted a magnificent full-grown ginkgo and a dwarf mangrove. Between them hung a golden aviary with a bird of paradise bobbing up and down inside it, its chatter filling the room with strange melodies.

Aston looked me up and down as if he was looking for something, but after convincing himself that I was not carrying a cane, coat or hat, he cleared his throat disappointedly, turned away and shuffled into the room to the right. He was walking so slowly that I had plenty of time to look around. My respect for the Palmbridges grew with every room we passed. Exotic plants alternated with bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling and exquisite old furniture. Elaborately inlaid tables and the leather armchairs that looked so comfortable that you would never want to get up out of them. I came from a well-to-do family, yet I was amazed by such opulence. The family had been very wealthy back then, but they had obviously increased their fortune considerably since then.

As we crept through the great room, I could hear voices of three people coming through the closed doors of the neighboring room. The voices couldn’t have been any more different. The woman’s voice was dry and resolute and undoubtedly belonged to our hostess. The second voice belonged to a man who had an accent I wasn’t quite able to place. The third voice left me totally flabbergasted. It was throaty and guttural and wasn’t like any I had ever heard before.

The butler reached the door and knocked.

Enter! came a voice from inside and Aston opened it. With an uneasy feeling, I went inside.

3

I was met by thick tobacco smoke. Lady Palmbridge and two men were sitting around a coffee table smoking and looking curiously at me.

At last! My hostess got up and came over to greet me. I was surprised by how tiny she was. Her gray hair was tied in a knot and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth were a testament to an indomitable will. One could clearly see that she had once been a real beauty.

My dear David, how nice to see you. I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation to get on the plane. Let me look at you. You look marvelous! It’s hard for me to believe that the boy I knew has become such a handsome man. And with such good taste in clothes, I might add. She gripped my hand and shook it warmly. Gentlemen, may I present the son of my friend and companion Ronald Astbury? A pity the old charmer is no longer with us. He passed away five years ago, about the same time as my husband. I spent a good part of my youth with these two people.

She paused to think for a moment, then she looked up and turned to the two men, who were clearly struggling to get up out of the comfortable armchairs.

Please remain seated, I said, moving toward them. The two men gladly accepted my offer and sat back down. One, a nearly two-meter tall giant with a sharp nose and high hairline, stretched out his paw. His forearm was covered with scars. Stewart Maloney, he exclaimed. His voice, like his handshake, was surprisingly gentle and pleasant, however, I thought I detected a twinkle in his eyes that suggested an unyielding will. My gaze fell on an archaic amulet hanging around his neck. It was a stylized lizard mounted in a round wooden frame that was decorated with numerous engravings. This is my assistant, he said, introducing his companion.

I looked at him in surprise. The man was an Aborigine with a smile that reached from ear to ear. When I looked down, I noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He took a small wooden pipe from his mouth and reached out his hand. Sixpence, he said with that unmistakable voice I had heard through the door. I’m pleased to meet you.

The pleasure is mine, I replied, taking his hand and immediately realizing I had made a huge mistake. If I had known what an iron grip the man had, I would have been more careful.

When he finally released my hand, I could have sworn that I would only see bits of broken bone under my skin. I suddenly realized why Maloney spoke with such a strange accent and why his amulet seemed so familiar. He was Australian and the amulet was a tribal symbol.

Lady Palmbridge smiled at me as if she had read my mind. Mr. Maloney and Mr. Sixpence have made the journey from the other side of the globe for the same reason you have. But I’ll explain all that after dinner this evening. For the moment, I’d simply like you all to make yourselves at home. What may I offer you to drink, David? Brandy, whiskey or would you prefer sherry? I glanced at the others’ glasses and spontaneously decided on whiskey. It wasn’t that I was particularly fond of it, but no one else was drinking anything else. Mrs. Palmbridge nodded at Aston, who shuffled over to the bar. As splendid as the villa was, it was nothing more than a luxurious retirement home without Emily’s presence.

Scotch or Bourbon, sir? the butler asked.

Scotch – no ice, please. I felt like I wasn’t myself. How had I gotten myself into this? Lady Palmbridge led me to a chair on the narrow side of the table across from Maloney and Sixpence and I let myself sink into it. My first impression had not deceived me. The chair was heavenly. Our hostess waited until I had my drink, then she raised her glass. To all of you who have taken the trouble to help an old lady. May our meeting take place under a favorable star. She drank down the contents of her glass in a single gulp and then let Aston refill her glass.

While I contemplated the strange behavior of our hostess, I wondered what her stark words meant. As expected, the whiskey was excellent. Soft and oily, producing a pleasant warmth as it ran down my throat and into my stomach.

Well, David, tell me. How do you like your life at the university? Is it still the same old grind it was back in my day?

I looked around in embarrassment. That’s rather hard for me to judge, ma’am, but I don’t think it has changed much. It’s a very bureaucratic institution for someone like me who is trying to make a difference. All the same, I was recently invited to hold my first guest lecture on intracellular signal pathways. It’s a tremendous breakthrough.

Lady Palmbridge turned to Maloney, who was looking at me with a mixture of skepticism and amusement.

For your information, my dear Stewart, David is seeking a professorship at the Imperial College in London. Mind you, the Imperial College is the second-most elite university in England. It even comes before Oxford, but unfortunately behind Cambridge.

Well, I hope to remedy that in a few years, I said with a wink.

I’m sure you will. Incidentally, David did his doctorate on a subject in structural biology, which is a very promising new branch of research in the field of genetics. If we have time, I’d like to talk to you in more detail about it.

With pleasure, I replied, taking another sip. Meanwhile, Mrs. Palmbridge continued, David is following in the footsteps of his father, one of the greatest taxonomists and scientists who ever lived. The only difference is that Ronald was a globetrotter. He was drawn to it; he always had to be on the move. I’ve never known such a restless man. He and my husband were colleagues. Without any false modesty, the two did some very important basic research. But enough of the past and back to you, David. You seem so different from him.

That’s right, I admitted frankly. My father dragged me hallway around the world long enough for me to realize that it was not the life for me. I like to stay in my lab, close the door behind me and carry out my research in peace.

Lady Palmbridge smiled knowingly before turning again to Maloney. You can’t imagine how thorny the path is from being an associate professor to a full professorship. To a man like you who prefers field work, life at a university must seem like an alien planet.

That wouldn’t be for me, Maloney said, mumbling into his glass. "But with all due respect, I side more with your father, Mr. Astbury. I need fresh air in my lungs and adrenaline in my blood. I need more than