“No, handsome. I don’t need you around.” I reached out and stroked his cheek. His hand rose and made a strange, faltering movement. “Iwantyou around.

But that’s my problem. Right now your family needs you.”

Ryan’s whole body radiated tension.

I looked at my watch. Seven thirty-five.

God, why now? As I picked up the phone to dial US Airways, I realized how very much I wanted him to stay.

Ryan’s flight departed at nine-twenty. Boyd looked deeply wounded as we left him at the annex.

From the airport, I went directly to the MCME. No fax had arrived from Cagle. Settling in my office, I looked up the number, and phoned the FWS field office in Raleigh.

A female voice informed me that the resident agent in charge was Hershey Zamzow.

Zamzow came on after a brief hold.

I explained who I was.

“No need for introductions, Doc. I know who you are. Hot down there as it is up here?”

“Yes, sir.”

The temperature at nine had been eighty-two.

“What can I do for you this fine summer morning?”

I told him about the Spix’s feathers, and asked if there was any local black market trade in exotic birds.

“A huge amount of wildlife flows through the Southeast from the Southern Hemisphere. Snakes, lizards, birds. You name it. If a species is rare, some pissant with mush for brains wil want it. Hel , the Southeast is one big poachers’ paradise.”

“How are live animals smuggled into the country?”

“Al sorts of clever ways. They’re drugged and stuffed into poster tubes. They’re hidden inside elasticized vests.” Zamzow didn’t try to conceal his disgust.

“And the mortality rate is astronomical. Think about it. You taken a flight lately that ran on time? How clever do you think these cretins are at calculating the amount of oxygen in a concealed storage space?

“But getting back to your feathers, birds are a popular sideline for South American cocaine smugglers. Guy scores a few parrots from the vil age poacher, runs them up to the States with his next shipment of blow. Birds live, he turns a nice profit. Birds die, he’s out beer money for the week.”

“What about bears?” I asked.

“Ursus americanus.No need for smuggling. Got black bears right here in the Carolinas. Handful of young bears are trapped each year for ‘bear baiting’

—that’s bear fighting for the unenlightened. Genteel entertainment for the red of neck. Used to be a market for live bears, but with zoo populations skyrocketing, that’s pretty much dried up.”

“Are there a lot of bears in North Carolina?”

“Not as many as there ought to be.”

“Why is that?”

“Habitat destruction and poaching.”

“There’s a season when bears are hunted legal y?”

“Yes, ma’am. Varies by county, but mostly in the fal and early winter. Some South Carolina counties distinguish between hunting stationary and hunting with dogs.”