Micro

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drake, but I was in the parking lot after the alarm, and someone from the Honolulu police came to see you. So I brought them in.”

“Oh. All right.” He hung up. “Great. The police.”

Alyson said, “I’ll go see what they want.”

“No, you won’t,” he said. “I’ll deal with the police. You go back to your office and stay out of sight until they are gone.”

“All right, if that’s what-”

“It is, yes.”

“All right, Vin.”

Jenny Linn watched as Vin Drake and Alyson Bender left the animal room. She noticed that Drake was careful to lock the door as he left. The plastic bag was lying on top of the snake’s tank. The top of the bag was twisted lightly. But it was loose. Jenny wriggled herself up in the neck of the bag, pushing, and she managed to get it open. “Come on,” she said. “We can at least get out.” The others followed Jenny, climbing out of the bag, until they were standing on the clear glass lid that covered the tank.

Jenny looked down into the tank. Peter was getting to his feet, obviously shaken. She shouted, “Can you understand me?”

He shook his head at Jenny: Not really.

Rick Hutter said, “Why didn’t the snake strike?”

Jenny got down on her hands and knees, cupped her hands around her mouth, and said, “Peter, can you hear now?”

He shook his head.

“Try bone conduction,” Amar said.

Jenny lay flat on the surface, putting her cheek against the glass. She spoke loudly: “Peter? Now?”

“Yes,” he said. “What happened?”

“I doused you with volatiles from a wasp,” she said. “Principally hexenol. I figured there were very few things that would put off a poisonous snake, but a wasp sting would be one of them.”

“Damn clever,” Amar said. “Snakes rely more on smell than sight anyway. And the krait’s nocturnal…”

“It worked. It thought I was a wasp.”

“Yes, but the substance is very volatile, Peter.”

“Meaning it will evaporate.”

“It is, as we speak.”

“Great. I’m not a wasp anymore.”

“Not for long.”

“How much time would you say?” he said.

“I don’t know. Minutes.”

“What can we do?”

Karen King said, “How are your reflexes?”

“Shot.” He held out his hand; it was shaking.

“What’s your idea?” Amar said.

“Do you have any of the spider silks we worked on?” For about six months, Amar and Karen had been synthesizing spider silks with various properties-some were sticky, some strong, some flexible like a bungee cord. Some could turn from smooth to sticky from the addition of a chemical at one end.

“I have several, yes,” Amar said.

“Okay, you see that plastic tube beside the cage, closed at one end?”

“It looks like it’s part of a little water dispenser.”

“Right. That’s the one. Can you grab that tube with sticky silk and hoist it up?”

“I don’t know,” Amar said doubtfully. “It probably weighs an ounce or two. We’d all have to help haul it up-”

“That’s fine because we all have to help, anyway. To open the cage.”

“Open the cage.” The top of the krait cage was a double piece of glass; one slid over the other. “I don’t know, Karen, that means shifting the glass piece.”

“Just an inch or so. Just enough-”

“To lower the tube.”

“Right.”

“Peter, are you following this?” Amar said.

“I am, and it sounds impossible.”

“I don’t see an alternative,” Karen said. “We have only one shot at this, and you can’t miss.”

Amar had opened up a plastic case, which he’d had in his pocket, and he was already uncoiling his sticky silk from an armature in the case. He lowered the silk over the edge, and hooked the plastic tube. It was surprisingly light. Amar and Rick Hutter were able to raise it easily.

They tried sliding the glass plate to get it open, but that proved to be a much greater challenge. “We have to be coordinated,” Karen said. “Everybody on the count of three, one…two…three!” The glass moved, just a few millimeters, but it moved. “Okay, again! Hurry!”

And the krait was becoming more active. Whether from seeing all the little people walking around on top, or because the volatile was wearing off, the snake began twisting and coiling, moving toward Peter, getting ready to try another approach.

“Get that thing down here,” Peter said. His voice was tremulous.

“Lowering it now,” Amar said.

The thread scraped over the glass edge, making a strange squeaking sound.

“That going to be okay?” Karen said. “Will it hold?”

“It’s strong,” Amar said.

“Come lower, a little lower,” Peter said. “Okay…Hold it there.” The tube was chest-high. He stood behind it, holding it in position with both hands at the back. But his hands were sweating, slippery. His grip unsure.

The snake was moving. Hissing through the leaves and sawdust.

“What if it strikes from the side?” Peter said.

“Adjust,” Karen said. “ ’Cause it looks like-”

“Yeah, it is-”

“Here it comes, damn it-”