Caleb Carr - The Angel Of Darkness

Past the few pieces of furniture that Hickie owned there was an old sink with a bucket of garbage underneath it, the contents of which had been strewn around the room-and out of which soon appeared a medium-sized raccoon, what gave Hickey a very guilty look.

“Willy!” Hickie shouted, moving for the garbage pail at a speed that made it tough (but not impossible) for the raccoon to escape up the sink’s single water pipe. “How many timeth doth I got to tell you, no more garbage!” He looked up the pipe to the blinking, clinging animal. “You act like you don’t ever get fed, you ungrateful little-”

I had to laugh. “Hickie, he’s a raccoon, for Pete’s sake, what do you expect?”

Hickie’s hands went to his hips, and he continued to stare the animal down. “I exthpect him to act with a little common courtethy and gratitude, or he’ll find himthelf thleeping in the alleyway- that’th what I exthpect!” He went farther toward the front of the room and lit another lamp, carrying it with him. “I named him after the Kaither Wilhelm, that one, but he don’t wathte any time bein’ imperial, he don’t…” Hickie signaled for me to join him; and as I noticed that a sizable snake was making for my feet, I decided to brave the other animals and enter the deeper reaches of the room. “Now, then,” Hickie said, climbing up onto a huge pile of old trunks, “come and thay hello to Mike.”

In the darkness I could make out a large, framed structure on top of the trunks, and when Hickie held the lamp up I could see that it was a cage, made out of some old two-by-twos and chicken wire. Inside the cage a long, lean shadow was whipping around in agitated motions, with an equally long, fluffy tail following behind. “Mike!” Hickie finally got high enough to set the lamp down and then sit on one of the trunks next to the cage. “Mike, I’ve brought an old friend to pay hith rethepecth and offer you a propothithun-why, Mike !,” Hickie’s face suddenly cracked into a big grin, the gap in his teeth standing out all the more. “Thtevie! Willya look at thith!”

Off of the top of the cage, Hickie lifted a dead rat by its tail. There were bite and claw marks all over the thing, and a big tear in its throat. “What’d I tell you?” Hickie shouted, overjoyed. “Got the bathtard clear through the wire, he did! There’th none to compare to old Mike, when it cometh to rat-killin’!” Overjoyed past words, Hickie threw the rat to the floor, opened the cage, and reached inside, bringing out the two-foot-long, gray-and-white ferret. The animal’s little black eyes locked on Hickie’s face with what seemed like recognition: he rolled onto his back in Hickie’s lap, and then shot up and around his master’s shoulders in one long, streaking movement, like he’d been poured out of a bottle. Hickie laughed out loud, and then the ferret jumped back into his lap, scratching behind his rounded ears and at his pointed nose with his short front paws. The animal looked my way, the little daggers of his sharp upper teeth showing over the fur of his lower jaw. “Tickle me , willya, Mike, my boy?” Hickie shouted, rubbing the ferret’s stomach with real affection and enthusiasm. “Then I’ll return the favor!” But the ferret only seemed to enjoy the rubbing, and after a few seconds he grew calm enough for Hickie to pick him up. “Come on, Thtevie, come on up and get to know Mike proper!” He looked into the ferret’s eyes. “Now, Mike, thith ith Thtevie Taggert, who you’ve theen before, though you’ve never been properly introduthed. Thtevie-Mike.” And before I knew it, he’d placed the animal against my chest, causing me to clutch him close. “What do you think, Mike?”

The ferret stared up at me for just a second, then suddenly flipped over and scurried up my arm, his sharp claws piercing my shirt and pricking lightly into my skin. It was a disturbing feeling, at first-not really painful, but strange; and in just a few seconds, the ferret’s quick movements around my neck and shoulders lightened up to the point where they did, in fact, tickle.

“What-what’s he doing, Hickie?” I asked, starting to laugh.

“Why, he’th gettin’ to know you, Thtevie. He’th a thtrict judge of character, ith Mike, and he’ll thoon dethide how he feelth about you!”

Mike ran down my other arm, jumped off onto one of the trunks for a second, then scurried back into my lap. Sniffing at my shirt with his ever-twitching nose, he stuck his head between two of my buttons-and then suddenly vanished inside. I took a deep breath of shock as I felt warm fur and cold claws against my bare skin. “Hickie!” I said, half amused and half afraid.

“Oh, thith ith rare, ith what thith ith,” Hickie said. “That’th hith mark of deepetht affeckthun. I’d thay you’ve found yourthelf a partner, Thtevie, old thon!” Hickie clapped his hands and then rubbed them on his legs, obviously pleased as could be that Mike should’ve taken such a quick liking to me. When the ferret reappeared from inside my shirt, I began to stroke his back with my hand and felt how quickly his heart was beating: like a little steam engine, so fast it seemed it’d explode. Then Mike turned onto his back, allowing me to rub his stomach the way Hickie’d done.

“Mike, Mike, Mike,” Hickie said, pretending to disapprove. “I’ll not have you playin’ cheap, now-remember your dignity, young man!” Laughing at himself, Hickie looked up at me. “You work around hortheth, do you, Thtevie?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “We have two, a mare and a gelding. Why, can you smell ’em?”

“No,” Hickie said, shaking his head. Then he nodded at Mike. “But he can. Loveth the thmell of hortheth, doth that one. And he’th thure taken to you. Well, then, Thtevie-what’th thith job you mentioned?”

I didn’t know just how much of the story to tell Hickie, but I had to let him have the basic details, as I’d need his instructions on how to train Mike for the specific task ahead. So I just mentioned that my employer and I were trying to track down somebody what we had reason to believe was being held in a certain house against their will, inside a locked room. Would Mike be able to detect if the person was in fact in the house, and find the right room? Indeed he would, Hickie said; in fact, it would be a breeze, compared to some of the jobs Mike’d handled in the past. Then I asked about the training, and was surprised to learn how simple it would be: all I’d need would be a piece of clothing from the person I was looking for, the more intimate the better, as it would be that much more steeped in the person’s scent. Mike was already so well trained that when he began to connect a particular object or smell with his feeding, he quickly got the idea that he was supposed to find something that looked or smelled the same; only a couple of days would be needed to get him ready. It’d be best if I took him to my place for that time, Hickie said, so’s he could get fully used to me. I said that I couldn’t imagine where that would be any problem, and then asked exactly what I should feed the active little fellow.

“He’th a car-nee-vore, ith Mike,” Hickie said, with the attitude of an expert, “but don’t you go thpoilin’ him on me. No porterhouth nor lamb chopth-just catch him a few mithe if you can, or, if not, thome jackrabbit’ll do. Three or four timeth a day, during trainin’, to let him know what you’re drivin’ at.”

“Do I take him in the cage?”

“Thure, thure,” Hickie said, pulling the contraption off the trunks and climbing down with it. “We’ll jutht find a bit of cloth to cover it with, for he don’t much like the thight of thity traffic.” Hickie began to root around in the many piles of junk in his room.

“And what about the money, Hickie? Top dollar, like I said.”