He turned and hurried from the tent. Outside in the rain he looked around and found the trailer Monnet had entered the other night. Its canvas awning was bellied with rain. A plate under the office sign on the door read: “Ozymandias Prather.” Jack knocked.

He stepped back as the door swung out. Prather stood staring down at Jack.

“Who are you?”

“And hello to you too. I was here the other night. I’m the ‘Hey, Rube’ guy.”

“Ah, yes. The defender of rakoshi. Jack, isn’t it? I barely recognize you. You appear to be a bit worse for wear since last we met.”

“Never mind that. I want to talk to you about that rakosh.”

Oz backed up a step or two. “Come in, come in.”

Jack stepped up and inside, just far enough to get out from under the dripping awning. The rain paradiddled on the metal roof, and Jack knew he had about five minutes before the sound made him crazy.

“Have you seen it?” Oz’s voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

“What did you do to it?”

Oz stared at him, as if genuinely puzzled. “Why, my good man, now that I know what it is, I know how to treat it. I looked up the proper care and feeding of rakoshi in one of my books on Bengali mythology and acted appropriately.”

Jack felt a chill. And it was not from his soaked clothing.

“What… just what did you feed it?”

The boss’s large brown eyes looked guileless, and utterly remorseless. “Oh, this and that. Whatever the text recommended. You don’t really believe for an instant that I was going to allow that magnificent creature to languish and die of malnutrition, do you? I assume you’re familiar with—”

“I know what a rakosh needs to live.”

“Do you now? Do you know everything about rakoshi?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“Then let us assume that I know more than you. Perhaps there is more than one way to keep them healthy. I see no need to discuss this with you or anyone else. Let us just say that it got exactly what it needed.” His smile was scary. “And that it enjoyed the meal immensely.”

Jack knew a rakosh ate only one thing. The question was: who? He knew Prather would never tell him so he didn’t waste breath asking.

Instead he said, “Do you have any idea what you’re playing with here? Do you know what’s going to happen to your little troupe when that thing gets loose? I’ve seen this one in action, and trust me, pal, it will tear you all to pieces.”

“I assume you know that iron weakens it. The bars of its cage are iron; the roof, floor, and sides are lined with steel. It will not escape.”

“Famous last words. So I take it there’s no way I can convince you to douse it with kerosene and strike a match.”

“Unthinkable.”

Jack flashed on something a couple of the troupe members had said the other night.