Chapter 30 Section 29

Margo watched as Flock spilled sherry on the front of his shirt. "Damn it," he said, wiping his shirt with his chubby palm, then put down his glass with exaggerated caution, and looked up at Margo. "Thank you for coming to me, dear. This discovery is too unimaginable. If I ask you, we should go down at once and have another look at the statue, but that fellow Pendergast will come soon and continue to be his the bastard." Good luck, Agent Pendergast, Margo thought: the last thing she wants to do is go back to the showroom. Flock sighed, "It doesn't matter, we will find out soon. Once Pendergast is gone, we will know the truth. The statue of Mbawang is the evidence I have been looking for for many years. If your judgment is correct-- I'm sure it's true—the claws match the lacerations on the victim."

"But how could such a beast run amok in the museum?" asked Margo. "Aha!" cried Flock, his eyes glowing. "That's the problem, isn't it? Let me ask you a question, Margot dear, what's wrinkled?" "I don't know," Margo replied, "how wrinkled, like a very bumpy road?" "Yes. It's a common pattern seen in ridges, wrinkles, and frills. Let me tell you what's wrinkled. Reptilian eggs. Dinosaur eggs, for example." Margot thought about it, and was suddenly struck by lightning: "This is exactly—" "—Cusbert's word for the missing pods in the crate," Flock finished for her. "Let me ask you: are they really just pods? What plant has pods that look so wrinkled and scaly? Just eggs..."

Flock rose from his wheelchair. "Next question. Where did they go? Was it stolen? Or did something else happen?" The old scientist stopped suddenly, sank back into his wheelchair, and shook his head. "But even if something...something hatches and breaks through the crates," Margot said, "what about the carnage on the freighter that brought the crates from South America?" "Margot," Flock chuckled softly, "before us is a riddle wrapped in a puzzle. We don't need to waste time guessing. We should collect more evidence first." Someone knocked lightly on the door.

"It must be Pendergast," Flock said, sitting up, "come in!" The detective walked into the room with a suitcase in his impeccable black suit, his blonde hair combed back.Margo thought he was just as poised as last time.Flock gestured to a Victorian chair, and Pendergast sat down. "It is a pleasure to see you again, sir," said Flock. "Miss Green, you are an acquaintance. You happen to be talking to us again, and I hope you don't mind letting her stay." Pendergast waved his hand, "What's the point? I know you will all respect my request for confidentiality."

"Of course," said Flock. "Dr. Flock, I know you're busy, so I'll cut it short," said Pendergast. "I hope you've figured out what happened to the artifact we were talking about. It may have been killed in one of these murders. Something used as a weapon." Flock moved. "According to your request, I thought deeply about this issue and searched the collection database. Not only did I find a single item, but I also found multiple items that may be disassembled and reassembled." He shook his head, "Unfortunately, I have not found anything even remotely close to the model you presented. There has never been anything like it in the collection."

Pendergast's expression remained unchanged, and then he smiled. "Officially we would never admit it, but this case is—how should I put it?—very tricky." He pointed to the suitcase. , but we are progressing very slowly and have not been able to find valuable clues." Flock also smiled: "Mr. Pendergast, I believe that there is not much difference between your work and mine. I myself have been in the same predicament. On the other hand, your Excellency the curator is undoubtedly as if nothing strange has happened. appearance." Pendergast nodded. "Wright would very much like the big show to open tomorrow night as scheduled. Why? Because the museum has already spent millions of dollars that it doesn't really need to waste. If the museum is not to run into the red, ticket bills will have to increase dramatically, and this show seems It’s the best way to attract money.”

"I see," said Pendergast.He picked up a fossil by the seat and played with it casually for a moment. "Ammonite?" he asked. "That's right," Flock replied. "Dr. Flock—" said Pendergast, "the pressure is being exerted on all sides. I must be more careful, and I must conduct the investigation according to the regulations. I cannot share the police information with outsiders, such as yourself. As a result, even conventional investigation methods are all in vain." He carefully put down the fossil and crossed his arms, "Speaking of which, if I remember correctly, you are an expert in DNA, right?"

Flock nodded: "Probably right. I spent a while studying how genes affect morphology—that is, the shape of organic organisms. In addition, I also supervised the projects of several graduate students, such as Gregory Kawakita, and also With Margo, their projects all involve DNA research." Pendergast picked up the suitcase and opened it, pulling out a thick stack of computer printouts: "A claw was found on one of the first two victims, and here is the DNA report for the claw. Of course, I can't Showing you the report is a serious breach of discipline and the New York office would be very unhappy."

"I see," Flock said, "you still believe that the claws are the best leads available." "The only clue worthwhile, Dr. Flock. Let me explain my conclusions. I believe there is a lunatic roaming the museum. He ritually kills his victims by removing the back of the skull, Take out the thalamic part of the brain." "Why?" Flock asked. Pendergast hesitated for a moment: "We believe he ate it." Margo gasped in horror. "It is possible that the murderer was hiding in the lower crypt of the museum," continued Pendergast. "There are numerous indications that he returned to the lower crypt after the murder, but until now we have not been able to delineate a specific area or collect any evidence. .Two dogs were killed during the search. As you probably already know, the lower basement is a labyrinth of tunnels, corridors and passages that sprawl through several levels underground, with the oldest structures dating back a hundred and fifty years. Courtesy of the museum The map covers only a small part of the area. I use the masculine 'he' because the force used in the case shows that he is a man, and very strong. Extraordinarily strong. As you know, he used Some sort of three-clawed weapon disembowels the victim, chosen apparently at random. We can't guess his motives. The police have chosen some naturalist staff to interview, but so far there has been no lead." He looked at Flock , "Look, Doctor, the best clue we have is the only one at hand - the weapon, the grapple, and that's why I'm continuing to track down where it came from."

Flock nodded slowly: "Did you just say DNA?" Pendergast waved the printout. "The lab results are inconclusive—that's a good thing to say." He paused, "There's no reason not to tell you the results of the claw test: In addition to human chromosomes, there are also fragments of several geckos in the DNA. So we thought it was possible that the sample was degraded." "What, gecko?" Flock was a little surprised. "And it eats the thalamus...unusual. Tell me, how do you know?" "We found saliva and teeth marks." "Human tooth marks?"

"No one knows." "Where's the saliva?" "Unable to confirm." Flock's head sank to his chest.After a few minutes, he looked up at Pendergast. "You still call the claws a weapon," he said. "Surely you still think the murderer is human?" Pendergast closed his suitcase. "I just don't see other possibilities. Dr. Flock, do you think animals can decapitate their heads with surgical precision, punch holes in their skulls, and find walnut-sized An organ? You know, the location of this organ is only known to those trained in human anatomy. Besides, the murderer was very clever in evading our search of the lower basement." Flock's head dropped to his chest again.As the minutes passed, Pendergast remained motionless, staring at the old scholar. Flock looked up suddenly. "Mr. Pendergast," he said in a thunderous voice, which startled Margo, "I've heard all your conjectures. Would you like to hear my opinion?" Pendergast nodded: "All ears." "Very well," said Flock. "Are you familiar with the Transvaal shale?" "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it," Pendergast replied. "In 1945, paleontologist Aristay von Voluwenhoek of the University of the Witwatersrand in South Africa discovered the Transvaal shales, which date from the Cambrian period about six million years ago, It is full of strange biological forms that have never been seen before. They are all asymmetrical biological forms, and the left-right symmetry that all animals on the earth follow today cannot even be found. Coincidentally, they appeared at the time of the Cambrian mass extinction. Pan Dejia Mr Stern, most people now think that the Transvaal shales represent a dead end in biological evolution: life tried every form imaginable before settling on the left-right symmetry you see today." "But you disagree with that view," Pendergast said. Flock cleared his throat. "That's right. In these shales, the dominant creatures had powerful fins, long suckers, and exaggeratedly large crushing and tearing mouthparts. Their mouthparts can saw through rocks, and their fins allow them to swim at twenty miles an hour. There is no doubt that this is a very successful and quite ferocious predator. I would say too successful: the prey is hunted to extinction, They soon followed suit, leading to the mini-mass extinction at the end of the Cambrian. It, not natural selection, killed all other life forms within the Transvaal shale." Pendergast blinked: "So?" "I simulated evolution on a computer according to the latest mathematical theory of flow fractals. The result? Every 60 to 70 million years, life will fully adapt to the environment-perhaps too much. The most successful life forms will explode in numbers. but then a new species suddenly pops up out of nowhere. This new species is almost always a predator, a killing machine that slashes, kills, eats, and multiplies in the original group. At first Slowly, but faster and faster." Flock gestured to the sandstone fossil plaque on the table, "Mr. Pendergast, let me show you something." The agent stood up and approached. "This set of imprinted fossils comes from an animal that lived in the Late Cretaceous," Flock said, "right on the K-T boundary to be precise. We have only found such a set of fossils of its kind, and it is unique in the world." "K-T?" Pendergast said. "Cretaceous-Tertiary. This line marks the mass extinction of the dinosaurs." Pendergast nodded, but still looked confused. "There is a connection, but no one has noticed it until now," Flock continued. "The statue of Mbawang, the claw marks left by the killer, and the fossilized imprint." Pendergast looked down. "Mbawan? The statue that Dr. Cuthbert took out of the crate and placed in the exhibition hall?" Flock nodded. "Well—how old are these imprints?" "About 65 million years. From the bottom where the last dinosaurs were, and then the mass extinction." There was another long silence in the room. After a while, Pendergast asked, "Uh, where is the connection?..." "I said that there are no anthropological collections that match the paw prints. But I didn't say that there were no replicas of such a claw, such as carvings. We found three claws on the foreleg of the Mbawang statue, and one in the middle. The toes are extraordinarily thick. Now look at the prints," Flock said, pointing to the fossil, "recall the hook and the model of the paw print on the victim." "Do you think," said Pendergast, "that the murderer was the animal that made the marks? The dinosaurs?" Margo felt a hint of a smile in Pendergast's voice. Flock looked at the agent and shook his head vigorously, "No, Mr. Pendergast, it's not a dinosaur. It's not an ordinary animal like a dinosaur. We're talking about evidence for my theory of mutational evolution. You know exactly what I'm working on. I think This is the animal that killed the dinosaurs." Pendergast said nothing. Flock leans over to the Bureau agent. "I think," he said, "that this monster, this freak of nature, is what killed the dinosaurs. Not a meteorite, not a sudden change in climate, but a terrible predator—it was this monster that died out." Those marks are left on the fossil. This is the embodiment of the Callisto effect. It is small, but it is extremely strong and agile, and it is likely to hunt cooperatively in packs, and it is intelligent. However, super hunters tend to be short-lived, so it is difficult Has a good fossil record. The Transvaal shale is the only exception. And these imprinted fossils from the Zunyejin wilderness. See what I mean?" "understood." "We're in a period of explosive growth." Pendergast remained silent. "Human beings, Mr. Pendergast!" said Flock, raising his voice. "Five thousand years ago, there were only ten million human beings in the whole world. Today there are six billion! We are the most successful life form in the history of the earth!" He knocked Knock on the few copies of "Fractal Evolution" on the table, "Yesterday you asked about my next book. It will expand and explain my Callisto effect theory and apply it to modern life. According to my theoretical prediction, a certain A grotesque mutated creature could be born at any moment, some kind of beast that hunted humans. I don't mean the kind that made the dinosaurs extinct, but something like that... Well, please take a second look at these marks. They are the same as Mbawan is very similar! We call this phenomenon convergent evolution. Two animals with similar appearance do not have to be related, they just need to evolve for the same goal. The evolution goal of this animal is to kill. Mr. Pendergast, There are so many similarities between the two.” Pendergast put the suitcase on his lap. "Dr. Flock, I'm so sorry, I was confused." "Don't get it yet? Something that was brought back from South America in a crate and escaped in a museum is a very successful predator. The Mbawang statue is evidence. The natives know this The beast existed, and a religion was built around it. Whitsey inadvertently brought it into civilization." "Have you seen the statue yourself?" Pendergast asked. "Dr. Cuthbert seems reluctant to let me see it." "No," admitted Flock, "but I have every reason to trust my judgment. I intend to study it as soon as I get the chance." "Dr. Flock, we discussed the matter of the crates yesterday," Pendergast said. "Cusbert certifies that there is nothing of value inside, and we have no reason to doubt his judgment." He stood impassively. Standing up, "Thank you for your energy and help. Your theory is very interesting, and I am happy to agree with your judgment." He shrugged. I hope you can distinguish between conjectures and facts obtained through investigation, and help us as much as possible." He walked towards the door, "Please forgive me now, I have to leave. Remember to contact me no matter what you think of." He opens the door and leaves. Flock sank back into his wheelchair, shaking his head and muttering, "What a pity. I expected him to help, but he doesn't look any different from the others." Margot looked at the desk next to Pendergast's chair. "Look," she said, "he left a DNA printout." Flock followed Margot to look over, and suddenly giggled. "That's what he meant by whatever he thought of." He paused. "Maybe he's really different from the others. Well, let's not report him, Margo, shall we?" He said, picking up the phone. "I'm Dr. Flock, please pick up Dr. Cuthbert." After a pause, "Hello, Ian? Well, I'm fine, thank you for your greeting. No, it's just that I need to go to the Aboriginal Culture Exhibition Hall right away. Why? ?Yeah, I know it's closed, but...I really agree with the concept of the exhibition, it's just...I get it." Margo noticed that Flock was flushing. "If that's the case, Ian," Flock continued, "I'd like to re-examine the crates that came back from Whitsey's expedition. Yes, the ones in safe storage. Ian, I know We saw it yesterday." Then he was silent for a long time, and Margot could hear a vague, harsh grumbling. "Ian, let me tell you," Flock said angrily, "I am the director of this department, and I have the right...Ian, how can you talk to me like this. You are so bold." Flock was trembling with rage, Margo had never seen him like this before.He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "Sir, you have no say in this institution. I will make a formal complaint to the director." Flock put down the phone slowly, his hands still shaking.He turned to Margot, groping for a handkerchief: "Excuse me." "I'm surprised," said Margot, "thought as a director..." She couldn't finish the sentence. "I'll have total control over the collection?" Flock said, recovering, laughing. "I thought so too. But the show and the murders stirred up emotions in people I didn't expect. Cuthbert's He has a higher position than me, but I'm not sure why he did it. There must be something embarrassing for him, which may cause his precious exhibition to be postponed or cancelled." He thought for a while. "Maybe he was aware of the beast too. After all, he was the one who moved the crates. Maybe he found the eggshells that hatched, figured out the connection, and hid the evidence. Now he wants to deny that I studied them power!" He sat up straight in the wheelchair and clenched his fists. "Dr. Flock, I don't think there is such a possibility." Margo reminded.She had thought of telling Flock that Rickman had taken Whitsey's journal, but that thought had faded away. Flock went limp. "Of course, you're right. But it's not over yet, I assure you. There's no time to waste with him, and I trust your observation of the Mbawang statue. But, Margo, we have to go into the safe Check the crates in the storage area." "How to get in?" Margot asked. Flock opened the desk drawer, rummaged for a while, and finally took out a form. Margot immediately recognized that it was a "10-14", which is the "Admission Application Form". "My mistake," he continued, "was being too polite." He began to scribble out the form. "But doesn't the application form have to be signed by the General Administration Section?" Margot asked. "Of course," Flock replied, "I will submit the form to the Administration Section in accordance with the usual procedures, and then take the unsigned copy to the safe storage area, blowing my beard and staring. The application form will definitely be rejected. No. But by then I'll have had time to check the crate - and should have found the answer." "But, Dr. Flock, you can't do that!" Margo replied in shock. "Why?" Flock sarcastically said with a smile, "Flock, the pillar of the museum, why is he behaving so pervertedly? This matter is too important to be thought about." "That's not what I meant," said Margo.She lowered her eyes and her eyes fell on the old scientist's wheelchair. Flock looked down, and suddenly his face stretched. "Oh, yes," he said slowly, "I see what you mean." He put the form back in the drawer dejectedly. "Dr. Flock," Margot said, "give me the form. I'll run to secure storage." Flock stopped what he was doing and looked at Margo admiringly. "I asked you to be my eyes and ears, not to go through fire and water for me," he said. "I'm a tenured researcher, sort of an important person. They dare not fire me. But you—" He took a deep breath He raised his eyebrows in a calm tone, "They will make an example of you and prevent you from graduating with a Ph. D., but I am powerless to stop it." Margo thought for a moment: "I have a friend who is very good at handling this kind of thing. No matter what situation he faces, I think he can retreat unscathed." Flock sat still for a few seconds, then tore off a copy of the application and handed it to Margo. "I'm sending the original upstairs right now. To continue with the game, I have to. The guards will call the Administration Section to verify receipt of the application. You won't have much time. The form arrives, they alert. You must leave before then." He took out a piece of yellow paper and a key from the drawer and held them up to show Margo. "Written on the paper is the vault door code for the safekeeping area," he said. "Here's the vault door key. Every department head has a set. With luck, Cuthbert probably hasn't thought of changing the code yet." He handed Margot two things, "So you can get in, but you have to deal with the guards." He said quickly, looking Margot straight in the eyes, "You know what to look for in the crate. Anything Evidence related to eggs and living things, including pagan items that can be linked to monsters. Anything that can support my theory. Check the smaller crate first, Whitsey's crate, that is, the crate that was packed The one with the Mbawang Idol. Check out the other chests if you have time, but for heaven's sake, try not to risk it. Go, my dear, and good luck." The last scene Margot saw before she walked out of the office was of Flock sitting under the bay window, his broad shoulders and back turned to Margo, pounding his fist on the arm of the wheelchair. "Damn it, damn it!" he said. "Curse you to hell!"