Approaching the building on foot, Bertram could see meager light flickering through the slats of the shutters covering Siegfried’s second-floor office windows. He went up the stairs, passed through the dark reception area normally occupied by Aurielo, and entered Siegfried’s office.

Siegfried was sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the corner. In the hand of his good arm he held and was gently swirling a brandy snifter. Cameron McIvers, head of security, was sitting in a rattan chair with a similar glass. The only illumination in the room was coming from the candle in the skull. The low level of shimmering light cast dark shadows and gave a lifelike quality to the menagerie of stuffed animals.

“Thanks for coming out at such an ungodly hour,” Siegfried said with his usual German accent. “How about a splash of brandy?”

“Do I need it?” Bertram asked, as he pulled a rattan chair over to the desk.

Siegfried laughed. “It can never hurt.”

Cameron got the drink from a sideboard. He was a hefty, full-bearded Scotsman with a bulbous, red nose and a strong bias toward alcohol of any sort, although scotch was understandably his favorite. He handed the snifter to Bertram and reclaimed his seat and his own drink.

“Usually when I’m called out in the middle of the night it is a medical emergency with an animal,” Bertram said. He took a sip of the brandy and breathed in deeply. “Tonight I have the sense it is something else entirely.”

“Indeed,” Siegfried said. “First I have to commend you. Your warning this afternoon about Kevin Marshall was well-founded and timely. I asked Cameron to have him watched by the Moroccans, and sure enough this evening he, Melanie Becket, and one of the surgical nurses drove all the way out to the landing area for Isla Francesca.”

“Damnation!” Bertram exclaimed. “Did they go on the island?”

“No,” Siegfried said. “They merely played with the food float. They’d also stopped to talk with Alphonse Kimba.”

“This irritates me to death!” Bertram exclaimed. “I don’t like anyone going near that island, and I don’t like anyone talking to that pygmy.”

“Nor do I,” Siegfried agreed.

“Where are they now?” Bertram questioned.

“We let them go home,” Siegfried said. “But not before putting the fear of God into them. I don’t think they will be doing it again, at least not for a while.”

“This is not what I need!” Bertram complained. “I hate to have to worry about this on top of the bonobos splitting into two groups.”

“This is worse than the animals living in two groups,” Siegfried said.

“They’re both bad,” Bertram said. “Both have the potential of interrupting the smooth operation of the program and possibly putting an end to it. I think my idea of caging them all and bringing them into the animal center should be reconsidered. I’ve got the cages out there. It wouldn’t be difficult, and it will make retrievals a hell of a lot easier.”