Petrified (24 page)

‘Of course,' said Kavita. ‘But I think I need to go now. I can't bear the smell.'

Nathan said, ‘I want another DNA sample, and we should also check if his fundamental cell structure has altered in any way. How the hell does a living bird turn itself into pure fire, without any apparent scorching or loss of substance? And how does it turn itself back into flesh and feathers? And what triggers a change like that? Is it fear, do you think, or protectiveness, or is it natural avian aggression?'

‘Professor, I feel sick.'

‘OK,' said Nathan. ‘I'm sorry. Why don't you and Aarif both go down to the lobby? But I think I'd better stay here. The police will be here at any minute, and besides, I want to keep an eye on Torchy.'

Aarif and Kavita left the laboratory, circling around the benches so that they kept as far away from Ron Kasabian's smoldering body as they could. Nathan stayed close to Torchy's cage, but not too close. He didn't want to set off another exhibition of avian pyrotechnics.

He was deeply shaken by the way in which Ron Kasabian had been burned to death, right in front of them, but as a zoologist he had so many questions about how and why it had happened. He had read every myth and every legend about the phoenix that he could find, including
O Pássaro Ardente De Egipto
–
The Burning Bird of Egypt
, by the fifteenth-century Portuguese alchemist and ornithologist Aldo Sombrio. There were only two known copies – one of which had been water-damaged during the Second World War in a flood at the Biblioteca Nacional in Lisbon – but it contained more details about the origins of the phoenix than anything else he had read. All the same, it hadn't mentioned that the phoenix could transform itself into pure fire, and then back again into a solid, screeching, bad-tempered bird.

He went across and hunkered down next to Ron Kasabian's body. Ron Kasabian was lying on his right side, with his arms and legs drawn up into the monkey-like position adopted by the victims of so many fires. His eyes were open but his eyeballs were opaque, and the skin on his face was charred in curled-up layers, like the pages of a burned book.

‘Jesus, Ron. Why did you have to lose it like that?' Nathan asked him, but he already knew the answer to that. As long as he had known him, Ron Kasabian had been arrogant and insecure. He had been afraid to take risks in a business that was inherently risky, and Nathan had quickly come to the conclusion that he had been promoted far beyond his capabilities. That was why he had always acted so aggressively. He obviously hadn't expected that Kavita would stand up to him, or that she would be defended with such ferocity by a mythical creature that could incinerate him where he stood.

Nathan was still hunkered down next to him when three firefighters came in, followed by Henry and then by two paramedics.

‘Holy Moses, Professor!' said Henry, taking off his cap. ‘Not
another
fire?' Then he realized what was lying next to Nathan on the floor.

‘That ain't – that ain't Mr Kasabian, is it? That's –
shee-it
! – that
is
Mr Kasabian! How'd he get all burned up like that?'

Nathan stood up. The leading firefighter looked around to make sure that there were no spot fires still burning, and then he said, ‘Want to tell us what happened here, sir?'

‘I couldn't honestly tell you,' said Nathan. ‘Spontaneous combustion, I guess you could call it. Mr Kasabian was standing here talking to us, and suddenly
whoof
! Up he went like a Roman candle.'

‘
Whoof
?' repeated the firefighter. His eyes were very pale hazel, and he had a bristly ginger moustache. He looked like the stubborn type.

‘Whoof,' said Nathan, nodding in agreement.

The firefighter knelt down next to Ron Kasabian's body. He lifted off his helmet, bent his head down and sniffed. He sniffed again, all the way down to Ron Kasabian's tan Gucci loafers, with their fringes crisp and curled-up from the fire. Then he looked up at his companions and said, ‘I can't smell nothing in the way of accelerants, but Jimmy – why don't you go bring Muttley up here? Maybe
he
can.'

‘Muttley?' asked Nathan.

‘He's our fire dog. He can detect one thousandth of a drop of part-evaporated gasoline in a room twice this volume.'

‘Mr Kasabian wasn't set alight by any accelerants, officer. Not that we saw. Not unless his clothes were already saturated when he came in here, but we didn't smell anything.'

‘So, what are you telling me? Your friend walked in here and caught fire without no warning at all? He looks like he was given a going-over by a goddamned flame-thrower.'

‘I can't believe it,' said Henry. ‘Only a half-hour ago, Mr Kasabian was axin' me about my hernia operation. Now look at him.'

One of the paramedics said, ‘We'll leave you guys to get on with it, OK? There's nothing we can do for this poor bastard. We'll contact the ME.'

The paramedics left; but as they did so, they stepped aside to let Detective Pullet and Detective Rubik in through the door.

Jenna came in and looked around. Then she stalked right up to Ron Kasabian's body, bent down and peered at it closely.

‘Do we know who this is?' she asked, looking directly at Nathan.

Nathan said, ‘Mr Ron Kasabian, CEO of Schiller Medical Research Inc.'

‘And do we know what happened to him?'

‘He caught fire,' Nathan told her. He nodded toward the empty fire extinguisher lying on the floor. ‘I tried to put him out, but I couldn't. He was burning far too fiercely.'

‘He caught
fire
?' asked Jenna. ‘How, exactly?'

‘We don't know yet,' the firefighter put in. ‘Until we do, we're reserving judgment.'

Jenna walked across to Nathan and stood facing him. ‘Professor Underhill,' she said.

‘Yes?'

‘Professor Underhill, this is the second time in less than eight hours that you've figured as a witness in an inexplicable fatality.'

‘Yes.'

‘Why don't you make my life a little easier, Professor Underhill? Why don't you tell me what the hell is going on?'

TWENTY-FOUR

Friday, 3:07 p.m.

H
enry showed them through to the boardroom and brought them coffee and bottles of spring water. Jenna and Dan sat down at the shiny mahogany table with Aarif and Kavita. Aarif's nose had not been fractured out of alignment but the paramedics had given him a cold compress to hold over it. Both of his eyes were already swollen like dark red plums, and Nathan had told him to go home, but he had insisted on staying. He was determined not to miss any of the stages of Sukie Harris' stem cell treatment.

Nathan remained standing, looking out of the window at the downtown skyline. The sun had come out, and was glittering on the river, and the pale blue sky was streaked with thin horses' tail clouds. The scene reminded Nathan of some of the illustrations he had seen in books of mythology, with strange creatures flying around the spires of medieval cathedrals.

Jenna said, ‘This is where you do your research, Professor? Here at the Schiller building?'

‘That's right. Schiller have been funding me for nearly a year now.'

‘And what exactly is it that you're working on?'

‘Is that relevant?'

‘I don't know. Is it?'

Nathan turned around. ‘It's no secret. I've been trying to recreate mythical creatures. I believe that their stem cells could help us to treat some incurable illnesses.'

‘When you say mythical creatures . . .?'

‘Creatures out of mythology. Basilisks, wyverns, gryphons. Right up until the Middle Ages there were dozens of them – from the adlet, which was like an Inuit werewolf, to the ziz, which in Jewish mythology was a giant bird whose wings could block out the sun. Some of them were purely imaginary, but many of them really existed. You saw that bird in my laboratory. My researchers and I created that bird only a few days ago. Or shall we say
re-
created it. It's a phoenix.'

‘A phoenix? Are you serious? Isn't that the bird that sets fire to itself, to get reborn?'

‘That's the one.'

‘So is there any kind of connection between your re-creating a phoenix and Mr Kasabian catching on fire?'

Nathan pulled out a chair and sat down. The surface of the table was so shiny that everybody sitting at it was reflected like the figures on playing cards.

‘Unlike the phoenix, Detective, I don't think there's any chance that Ron Kasabian will be coming back to life.'

Jenna looked at Nathan narrowly. He hadn't really answered her question, and she felt the same way about him that she had felt back at Temple University Hospital – that he wasn't giving her the whole picture. Maybe not
lying
, exactly, but failing to give her some critical facts. She was convinced that there was a link between the death of Eduardo Delgado at the hospital and Ron Kasabian's immolation here at Schiller Medical Research, and she suspected that Nathan knew what it was. The question was: why was he being so guarded?

Dan opened his notebook. ‘The way that the victim was burned – could we run over it again? He came into the laboratory, right? How long was it before he combusted?'

‘I don't know,' said Nathan. ‘Only a couple of minutes.'

‘Did he
say
anything before he caught fire?'

‘We exchanged a few words, yes.'

‘Just a few words? You didn't argue? It looks like your two assistants here both suffered some injuries.'

‘They sustained those when Mr Kasabian caught fire. They fell.'

Jenna turned to Aarif. ‘You fell flat on your nose? You didn't put out your hands to save yourself?'

Aarif shrugged. ‘I tripped over a stool. I hit my nose on the edge of the bench.'

‘And how about you?' Jenna asked Kavita. ‘I've attended more domestic disputes than you've had hot dinners, young lady, and I know a slap when I see it.'

‘That was Professor Underhill,' said Kavita. ‘I hit my head and he thought I was unconscious so he slapped me to bring me round.'

Jenna stared at her disbelievingly for a moment, but then she turned back to Nathan. ‘Prior to catching light, did Mr Kasabian complain of feeling strange, in any way?'

Nathan shook his head.

‘Was there any chemical in your laboratory that could have accidentally set him alight?'

‘Only methanol, and he would have had to empty a whole bottle over himself and set himself alight with a match.'

‘Or somebody would.'

‘What are you trying to suggest? That one of
us
killed him?'

‘I don't know. Did you? The circumstances are highly suspicious, to say the least. And to be quite frank with you, I don't buy this falling over on your nose and this slapping story. Did you and Mr Kasabian have any kind of dispute?'

Nathan said, ‘Yes. We'd had a serious disagreement over money. Mr Kasabian had recommended to the Schiller board that they discontinue funding my research.'

‘Oh, yes?'

‘This morning, though, he came in to tell us that he had changed his mind, and that our funding would continue – at least for the time being.'

Jenna sat back, tapping her ballpen on the tabletop. ‘So there was no longer any bone of contention between you? No reason for you to argue, or to get physical?'

Nathan shook his head.

Jenna's cellphone played ‘Blanket On The Ground'. She said, ‘Excuse me,' and flipped it open.

‘Mom? It's Ellie. OK if I stay over at Hermione's tonight?'

‘What about your homework?'

‘It's
Friday
, Mom. I can do it tomorrow.'

‘Did you eat lunch?'

‘I had vegetarian pizza.'

‘How much? Come on, tell me the truth.'

‘I had one slice. But I ate all of it, I swear.'

‘OK, then. But make sure that you eat something at Hermione's. I'll call you later, when I finish work.'

She snapped her cellphone shut. She looked across the table to see Nathan smiling at her.

‘
Kids
,' he said.

Jenna refused to smile back. ‘I might need to talk to you again, Professor, once the medical examiner has taken a look at Mr Kasabian's remains, and I get a full report from the fire department.'

‘OK,' said Nathan. He checked his watch, and then turned to Aarif and Kavita. ‘Right now we have a pressing appointment with a certain young lady, don't we, compadres?'

TWENTY-FIVE

Friday, 5:35 p.m.

W
hen they arrived back at Temple University Hospital, they found that Doctor Berman was still in theater, finishing up his treatment of an auto mechanic who had been splashed in the face with car-battery acid. They waited in the beige-painted visitors' lounge at the end of the corridor, under framed prints of lakes and forests. Kavita closed her eyes and tilted her head back and attempted to rest, while Aarif lay back on one of the couches, keeping the folded white compress pressed to his nose. Nathan sat next to the tropical fish tank, trying to read
National Geographic
, but he couldn't stop picturing the way that Torchy had blazed through the bars of his cage, flown at Ron Kasabian and set him on fire. After a while he tossed the magazine back on to the table.

Twenty minutes passed and then Braydon Harris came into the lounge, carrying a cup of coffee. His eyes were swollen and his hair was sticking up at the back like a bedraggled cockatoo. He was wearing a light green zip-up windbreaker with a pattern of brown stains down the front, and grubby gray Nike sneakers.

He sat down opposite Nathan and nodded, ‘Hi, Professor.'

Nathan said, ‘Hi there. How's it going?'

Braydon sipped his coffee. It was still scalding hot, and he said, ‘Ouch. Shit. No wonder they call it the burns unit.' He put down his cup and then he said, ‘Taking a break?'