Saffron’s Menagerie. Phil Stevenson

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СКАЧАТЬ like this. Matt’s mind conjures up the opening of King Tut’s tomb by Lord Carnarvon. He is a bit of a square, but a sentimental type square.

      And stamps. Layers of stamps, orchestrated into sections, countries and the like. Matt isn’t a stamp man, but coins, known through the ages like Blackbeard, are more interesting to say the least.

      Barbara walks in.

      “Well, well, what is this?”

      “A private collection, I suppose,” Matt replies.

       LOS ANGELES

      1.

      No one crosses Ronald Sweet. No one. Not after his climb to prominence and power.

      Following R.J.’s death, Ron Sweet demanded a result. Who sent via FedEx, a package containing venomous killer bugs?

      The pressure was on the LAPD.

      They had located the FedEx van the following day. It had been reported stolen the day before R.J.’s birthday party. The cops found it parked in the lower level of a shopping center within six miles from Sweet’s residence. No fingerprints, no CCTV images, except a grainy clip of the van being driven into the car park. The driver’s face was covered with a scarf. The driver would easily have disappeared into the shopping center on that busy Sunday.

      After two weeks of no results from the LAPD, Ron Sweet engages a high profile private detective. A dude named Mr. Gotcha. His real name is Herman Richter and he actually has a resemblance to Gerhard Richter, the famous German painter. Herman is no painter. He served in Iraq and liked it. Ex- Ranger and looks like one. Purple star. He now runs his own business, as security is so big these days. Him and two other ex-Ranger mates do well, representing themselves with the slogan, ‘We get the Job Done’.

      Ron liked that tone and hires Mr. Gotcha on the spot. He wants Herman to look into all aspects of his son’s death. And to follow a line on insect deaths, especially scorpions and anything else as weird as this.

      Ron has demanded a report on the origin of the scorpions that killed his son. After a week, a report, free of charge from the LAPD, is forwarded to him.

      He reads it. In summary, it states:

       Insect identification classification.

      Hottentotta tamulus.

      Also known as the Indian Red scorpion, a species of scorpion, belonging to the family Buthidae.

      It occurs in most of India, eastern Pakistan and the

      eastern lowlands of Nepal.

      It is considered the most lethal of all scorpions known to man.

      The scorpion's venom affects the pulmonary and cardiovascular systems of humans, causing the lungs to fill with fluid.

      They have the ability to stay in a freezer for the night and thaw out in the morning.

      They can survive for up to a year without food and water.

      Their coloration ranges from dark orange or brightly red-brown through dull brown with darker grey carinae (ridges)

      and granulation.

      Ron Sweet drops the report down on his desk. Runs his hand back over his head and lets out a shot of air. He clenches his fists.

      “Bugs from India? Who has done this?” he screams to the sky. “And why, why the fuck, why? Why me!”

       LONG ISLAND

      1.

      Saffron sits down at her large screen computer and powers it up. After a minute or so, she executes a few commands and mouse movements and reaches her Internet goal.

      A site labeled: Saffron, Apples, Caviar. Or SAC for short. Nothing spectacular. No graphics or pics. Just a button that states, ‘Click here to enter Forum’ and another, ‘Send email’.

      There is one outstanding message. She navigates to it.

      It reads, ‘Wish to engage your services. When I click on the forum button it asks for a password. How do we communicate?’

      Saffron does not really want any more assignments, and the excruciating validation process she goes through to obtain proof from the enquirer is still risky.

      She keys in a reply, ‘Saffron and rare apples are available. Sorry, there is no caviar in stock at present. Please provide your residential address and I will provide you with an inventory of what you require’.

      She thinks, ‘This might well be the last assignment for me. I can’t go on doing this forever until I get caught’.

      That afternoon she receives the reply. It contains an address somewhere in Fredericksburg, Virginia. She does a search on the place and realizes it is a small town on the Rappahannock River. She frowns, as she does not do assignments in small towns. Too risky. However, if this might be the last one, she could be in for the dare. The address given, with no name, is Chatham Manor, 120 Chatham Lane, Fredericksburg, VA 22405.

      Saffron keys in one final response back to the enquirer. ‘You will receive an envelope in the mail to your prescribed address within ten days. The contents of the letter will include a sixteen-digit key to enter the forum. Your access will be limited to a specific time slice and date. Please note that. Do not enquire again until you receive your information pack. If so, our business will be terminated immediately. Your letter will have the SAC logo in the top left corner of the envelope. Chat soon. Goodbye’.

      2.

      She decides that the sun is well over the yardarm. Time for a gin and tonic.

      ‘So what to do with my live menagerie? If I stop after this one, I suppose I’ll let them grow old and die from natural causes’, she muses to herself walking down the steps into her basement, drink in hand. She reaches for the atomizer on a side table and sprays a fine mist over her face, hands and arms.

      Pressing the secret button opens the sliding bookcase and she walks into her panic room. Caviar is upstairs. He’s never allowed into the panic room. And a panic room it has been to a few, but not for Saffron.

      Immediately sounds of light thumping and anxious scurrying emanate. The room is small, ventilated and dry, fans buzz away. Smaller than you would think a panic room should be. Twelve feet by eight feet. There is a large empty fish tank about eight feet long on her right and another medium tank at the end of the room. Both tanks ooze excitement. She walks to the large tank. It has a soft sand base with a few hollowed small logs, water bowl and other extras that abound.

      “Hello beautiful. How are you doing,” she speaks to Apples, her magnificent Eastern Brown reptile. She watches it strain to the top of the tank wanting to get out. Saffron opens a small hatch on top of the tank and the reptile slides out and up her arm. It’s glistening scales accentuating its ancient sliding rhythm. It stops under her neck with rhythmic flicks of its tongue over her soft skin. Snakes are not that good with their eyes, but they have amazing Jurassic sensory receptors СКАЧАТЬ