The same disbelief I returned now in my gaze,
watching Keene stand up perfectly fine.
— You...are not hurt? — I exclaimed, still
stunned.
— No, Kevin. He never was. But that's the least
of the lies and misdeeds you've done, isn't it, Dr. Keene?
Would you like to summarize them, or should I do it? —
Keene's face then changed back to its usual
contemptuous expression.
— What are you talking about, miss?
— What am I talking about? Let me tell you a
story, both of you in fact. You spent a few months on
expeditions with our father, just before Kevin arrived
and was welcomed into the team. The three of you even
visited some locations, but never found anything. In
Ambungi, though, something changed dramatically. I
accepted my father's invitation to participate with you in
the trip to the archipelago, which excited my father so
much that he agreed to bring more modern equipment to
study the findings. And when we discovered them, after
all, you fell in love. The beauty of those beings certainly
made you ecstatic. You, especially, had a reason to be
spellbound, as you were the bearer of the camera that
photographed the Kaiaimunus and Probactrosaurus. It
was then that our father reminded you that these images
would be returned to the continent, where they would be
shown to the public as conclusive proof that some
species had indeed survived extinction. You panicked at
the possibility of losing those magnificent creatures to
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hunters and other despicable humans who would come to
the islands. Of course, your own species always seemed
less important to you than the animal species. Your
family valued money above all else, even above you. I
suppose you never heard any of them express affection.
So you turned your back on humanity and turned to
animals, becoming a biomedical doctor, much to the
chagrin of your family. It was the most terrible blow you
could have dealt them — to disregard a career in the
field that the family had preserved for years in favor of
plants and animals. I'm sure this feeling built up over the
years, until you could no longer bear it. You had to
preserve these creatures at all costs, even if the cost was
human life. And in each case you threw the clues in my
face, mocking me, thinking that I wouldn't be able to
understand what was going on; well, I am. Bergeron was
feeling weak, you said? So weak that he could no longer
walk? A classic symptom of nitroglycerin poisoning. It
is recommended to take no more than three tablets of the
substance at a time. You made him take much more than
the recommended amount. You drugged the poor man
and let him be devoured in the woods, you damned
coward!
By this point, I was stunned, shifting the focus of
my gaze from Lucy to Keene and back again.
— And yet, this was only the latest of his crimes.
Mr. Frost heard about what happened in Whitehorse and
I think I can explain the events that occurred at the
Lavouie Inn. We were discussing what we had done to
Frost, giving him the sleeping pill so that he could not
come with us, when we heard the staircase creak. It
always made the same noise, so you didn't suspect
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anything. But we did. We warned you that there must be
someone on the wooden steps, but you refused to believe
us. So you got up, went to the top of the stairs, and
claimed that there was no one there. But there was
somebody. Neleh Lenoir was on the steps, climbing the
staircase, when she heard our conversation and stopped
to listen to the rest of it. You were afraid, then, that she
would tell what we had done to Andri Bergeron, her
friend. When she saw you at the top of the stairs, she
must have panicked, but not for long. Looking into her
eyes, you lied that there was no one there. The next day,
when we said goodbye, you handed her a wad of bills,
which she must have thought was a bribe or something.
Very needy, she readily accepted the gift and started
counting them before we even left the place. As you had
noticed, she had a nasty habit of moistening her fingers
when flipping through pages. People with anxiety often
bite their fingernails, clench their teeth, and, of course,
lick their index fingers when turning pages. You bet that
she would do the same when counting money, and
unfortunately, you were right. A gentleman reported that
she was found dead, with a morbid smile on her face.
Those bills; they were covered in strychnine. Risus
sardonicus is a common symptom caused by this drug.
You killed her, too, just so she wouldn't say anything to
Bergeron. There was another reason for her not to tell
what we did to Frost. Yes, because you didn't just pour
sleeping pills into the coffee as I asked. No, you did
more. To challenge my judgment, you used a second
dose of scopolamine.
The name resonated in my mind when Lucy
mentioned it. She had said something about this drug
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before. She had found pills of the drug somewhere, but
where?
— Scopolamine causes temporary forgetfulness,
— she went on to say. — Frost not only blacked out after
drinking the coffee, but also forgot what had happened
before he fell asleep. The point, though, was that nothing
had happened. It was just an insult to my deductive
ability, which you should not doubt after what you saw
in the Everglades. This, by the way, brings me to my
next point. In Florida, you encountered a man very much
like yourself — as sordid and disgusting as yourself.
Alexander Boseman also did not have enough love for
others. Unlike you, though, he had not the slightest love
for animals, either, which led him to be greedy, wishing
to have the Steppesaurus under his control, where they
would be slaughtered and sold in the form of handbags
and shoes. Another terrible threat to your intricate plan
of destruction, but not the cleverest of them, I suppose.
You met him at the hospital where Alma Boseman was
admitted, before we barred him at the entrance to the pit
leading to the nests. You know, I wondered, why did he
wait so many hours to act? Why come only in the
morning? Then I remembered what Kevin had said.
Those animals are most active when the sun is up, but
they can still move with some agility, thanks to the
energy generated by their internal system. You heard him
too, but you lied to him. You said that the animals would
not be able to react in the morning and he believed it,
attacking the nests and dying in the process. You didn't
kill him directly, but you set the stage for his death. Not
everything turned out perfectly as expected, however.
Boseman was to be killed in a much more direct manner,
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at the hands of Nathan Allard. It was you that he had
gone to see that night, and you witnessed the gruesome
death he suffered on the fields in front of you.
— So... that's why, — I said, finally
understanding something. — That's why you returned
the map to him upside down. Since Jacob doesn't know
how to interpret maps, he understood that this was the
right angle and followed your instructions!
— Precisely, Kevin, — Lucy approved of my
conclusion. — I still didn't know why he had a map, but
it had to be something related to the crimes he was
already committing. Thinking that I was correcting the
angle of the map, he took that side as the correct one and
followed its directions at night, showing up for the
appointment with Allard on the wrong side of the pond.
One waited for the other, both thinking that something
wrong had occurred, until the animals attacked Nathan.
He ran, trying to escape, but was attacked near the
cypress hill — the place opposite to where Keene was
supposed to be, and exactly where he was. Jacob
watched his accomplice being devoured alive, unable to
react. Allard, by the way, was pretty useful in his
services to Keene. So much so that he was already taking
the lead in getting new reports of cryptids and new
victims to be murdered. Before going to the Boseman
ranch, he had overheard a poor Canadian complaining
about his life, sitting at a table in a Florida cafe. He was
pleased with the story and even invented an organization
for the protection of aboriginal peoples to be able to fool
Bergeron and scheduled our return flight to be the same
one he was coming on, allowing you to meet your
victim. But everything was not always so well planned,
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was it? There was a time when killings were improvised,
as happened in South Africa. Baruti Elya was a vile
criminal, which you and I have exposed, but to you, he
was also an environmental terrorist. Elya's business had
been threatened by the discovery of Leptocleidus on the
site, so he tried to eliminate the animals, even
slaughtering some. But where did he get the longline he
was using that night when we caught him by surprise?
Well, you arranged for it to happen. You pretended that
you were going to the condominium just to get his boat,
but in fact, you went back to the tribe, where Thabo
Amaechi's body was waiting to be prepared. When I saw
him the next day, I noticed that the hooks had been
removed, but not carefully. The skin was torn where they
had previously penetrated, showing that whoever had
removed them certainly did not respect the victim. It was
you, too. In addition, you took the opportunity to hide
the ax that was supposed to be stuck in the wood stump,
ensuring that Kevin could not use it in case we were
snooping around, as we did later. Elya spotted the
longline in the tool shed and, figuring that his men had
forgotten it there, started to throw it into the water, trying
to catch something. Then you stepped in, playing the
part of the good citizen who confronts the environmental
terrorist. Killing someone would be negative for the
engineer's reputation, who was already trying to hide his
drug business. So you knew that he wouldn't really try to
shoot you. That flashlight, thrown offhand while Elya
was fishing, was the perfect distraction for a horrible
accident to occur. You had told him that someone had
managed to hook one of the animals with a longline, but
did not say that the man who had done it had died soon
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after. You trusted, then, that Baruti Elya's lack of fishing
skill was enough, and the Leptocleidus' nature of
swimming to deeper water did the rest. When he became
distracted, the hooks pierced his flesh and he was
dragged into the water. You killed him, Doctor Keene,
and you can't run away from the facts. And that call that
we heard you make, that was the first time you contacted
Nathan Allard, I suppose. The first contact, which would
lead to a series of vicious murders. Tell me, do you still
remember the first time you killed someone? Kevin, do
you remember that I said that was the second time he
used scopolamine?
— Yes, you mentioned it before, when we were
talking about...Amge? He used it in Amge!
— Exactly, Kevin. He was desperate, imagining a
way to save the animals and he found the perfect
method. In the Abal's medicine cabinet, there were a few
pills of the drug, used by the widow to stop nausea. In
larger doses, though, scopolamine affects a person's
ability to follow their own will, making them more
susceptible to following orders without even thinking.
Essentially, it temporarily turns its victims into zombies.
We were lingering with Paka Norwayan, which gave him
the perfect opportunity to grind up the pills he found and
scatter them as a fine powder over the map, knowing that
our father needed to get his face close enough to a map
to read it. As he said, the map was covered with dust.
Then all he had to do was to give him an order — to start
the speedboat and launch himself into the water, which
he did. But Keene didn't count on the Lanes' resilience.
My father escaped from the Sinornithosaurus, hiding
among the Kaiaimunus until he reached the village
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again. Unfortunately, he had already been bitten by this
point and was bleeding severely. By the time he reached
us, he was about to die. We buried my father on that
beach, Doctor, but I have kept since then the memory
that you killed him! — she finished, already in tears. I
was in shock, still absorbing everything I had heard.
Keene had carried out such a macabre plan? And the
worst — the death of our father? I turned to Jacob, my
hands burning, raring to choke him. He, then, laughed,
sneering at us:
— Wow, quite impressive, young lady. I never
thought you were that smart. You know, I should have
hired you, instead of that arrogant little man. Allard was
an easy choice; he hated Frost for being his boss, which I
promised would no longer happen if he worked with me.
— I would never work for someone so vulgar!
— she hissed.
— You… — I said, also losing my temper, —
You killed our father, you maggot!
— Our father? — he laughed. — Our father?
Don't be stupid, O'Riley! Did you really think you'd have
a father in Anthony Lane? Don't make me laugh. Ask
Lucy! The old man was as despicable as I am. But you,
Lucy...you could have been so useful to me.
Unfortunately...you two are a menace now. Threats to the
wildlife that I have sworn to protect. I'm sorry, dear. —
From inside his jacket, he then pulled out a syringe and
raised it in the air, approaching Lucy. His gaze was as
cold and lifeless as the metal walls that surrounded us.
— Hold still now, will you?
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But before he could insert the needle, a voice
sounded from within the cubicle behind us:
— Touch her and I'll do to you what you did to
Andri!
The cubicle door opened in an instant, revealing
the man who had hidden there.
— Bruneau? — exclaimed Keene. — How did
you survive?
— You thought I'd never make it this far alive,
didn't you, Doctor? Well, I made it. Now get away from
that girl!
But Keene didn't hesitate, quickly inserting the
syringe into Lucy's neck, which twitched with the sting.
In the next instant, Bruneau held Jacob's arms and threw
him against the wall, while I, still in a panic, removed
the needle.
Grabbing the Brit from the floor, Jimmy growled:
— What was in that syringe? Speak up, you
bastard! — Between short laughs of satisfaction, Keene
hissed:
— A high dose of potassium chloride...
Panic was visible in Bruneau's eyes, as well as in
mine, but Lucy remained impassive. Approaching Jacob,
she raised her eyes on him and said:
— You prepared that injection while still in New
Haven, didn't you? Maybe not for me, exactly, but for
anyone who threatened you. You thought I would die in
minutes from a cardiac arrest. But you didn't remember
who took your coat when it fell into the Partridge.
At this, Keene's smile faded, remembering the
occasion.
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— It was...it was you! — he shouted, leaping on
Lucy, kicking, trying to reach her, but was stopped by
Bruneau who was holding him tightly.
— Exactly, Doctor. And that's where you usually
keep the substances and venoms you carry. Well, I also
prepared a dose and replaced the contents of your
syringe. What you have just injected in me...is lidocaine.
Nothing more than a local sedative.
Keene's expression was one of hatred at its purest
state, but there was nothing he could do.
— Now come with me, Doctor, — Bruneau said.
— Let's go for a walk. Kids, open that door, please.
Obeying the Indian leader's order, we jointly
pulled open one of the thick metal slats that made up the
warehouse door, revealing the white world outside.
Jimmy Bruneau then dragged him outside, holding him
by the two hands brought to his back. Outside, the
snowstorm grew stronger, making it difficult to see. The
doors behind the two of them closed again, isolating us
from the outside world.
— Now, doctor, you are going to help us get
home. The pack had split up to hunt us; two smaller ones
going after me. I believe you used the other two? All
right, listen up. Datsá has only one exit, opposite the
entrance. You will make a fuss, wait until the lone
animal comes after you, and then you will escape
through this exit, do you understand?
— What are the odds I'll survive that? — Jacob
growled.
— And what are the odds Andri Bergeron had?
Releasing Jacob's hands, Bruneau pushed him
away, throwing him to the snowy ground.
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— You'd better get started, Doctor. You'll have to
survive on your own after you cross the exit.
Bruneau then ripped off the thick fur coat that
protected him and tied it around his waist. Turning again
toward the warehouse, he walked a few steps and
headed, not to the building, but to the rope that led to the
top of the mine. Throwing himself onto the rope, he
hoisted his body, using the powerful muscles he had
developed, and began to climb the several meters that
separated him from the top.
Turning to what he had been told to do, Jacob
Keene walked to the ice gap that separated the Datsá
woods. No more than a meter or two could be seen ahead
of him, and the cold was intense. He could keep quiet
and die right there, overcome by the freezing
temperature, but what good would that do? At least there
was a minimal chance of survival if he followed
Bruneau's instructions. Still hesitating, his lips refusing
to open, he began softly to call for help, raising his tone
gradually. The plain was still an empty, deserted
blankness, without the slightest sign of a predator's
presence. Keene's screams were more audible now,
driven by the deadly cold that tortured him, but nothing
answered his call. The thin blazer that had served him
until now as a case for his lethal weapons was no longer
so useful. His muscles were slowly stiffening, soon
compressing his rib cage. Now it was painful to scream.
— Help! — he cried out, feeling his chest burn
with the enormous effort. This time, though, something
answered him. Something very close, right in front of
him. Breathing heavily, Jacob Keene forced his legs to
be steady, waiting, waiting until...
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A pair of jaws closed within inches of his face,
coming from an unseen point in the blizzard. In a panic,
Keene fell to the ground, but got up with a leap, running
towards the mine. From inside the warehouse, we could
hear a mixture of human screams and reptilian roars
echoing in the valley. Lucy had her back to the cold
metal door, listening to what was happening outside,
closing her eyes to concentrate. A tear trickled from her
right eye, washing a narrow strip of her face, before
falling to the floor. I, for my part, wept and sobbed,
knowing what would happen next.
Narrowly evading the Ceratosaurus' attack,
Keene entered the mine and kept running, trying to reach
its interior. He could still hear the predator's footsteps
behind him, kicking up rocks on the way, its roar
echoing off the cave walls. There was something strange,
though. There was no light coming from anywhere in the
mine, as if...there was no way out. Unable to see, Keene
crashed into a stone wall, injuring his face. Turning
toward the entrance from which he had come, he realized
that he was trapped. In front of him, the silhouette of a
predator was advancing rapidly towards him. Desperate,
he cried out:
— No, please, no!
But its jaws were already on his body, shaking
him and tearing his flesh apart. Outside, Bruneau could
hear the horrendous screams coming at him, echoing
through the gloomy mine.
— The same odds, Keene, — he whispered,
before throwing the rest of the dynamite load inside the
mine and seeking refuge. The wick ran out in a few
seconds and the explosive was detonated. Behind
618
Bruneau, a huge explosion tore through the wooden
structure that framed the mine and threw rocks
everywhere, causing the entire mountain to collapse on
top of it, burying Keene and his passion forever.