Elixir (12 page)

“You?”

“No one would have to know where I got the information from,” she explained.

“It would be confidential,” the older woman agreed.

“I just wish that rather than simply
telling
people about the kennel and the condition of the dogs that we could
show
them,” Melissa said.

“I can't imagine that either the police at the top of the steps or the security guard inside the building will allow us to march in there,” one of the younger women pointed out.

“And even if we could march in, I'm sure we wouldn't be allowed into the kennel. I imagine it must be locked,” the older woman added.

“It isn't,” I said, and then instantly regretted it. “At least, it wasn't locked when I went in there yesterday.”

“That's
very
interesting,” Melissa said.

There was something about the tone of her voice and the look on her face that made me feel uneasy.

“Maybe there's some way we could show everyone what's going on in that building,” Melissa continued.

“Even if the door
is
unlocked, we still can't all go charging in!” the older woman exclaimed.

“I'm not talking about charging and I'm not talking about everyone. Just me,” Melissa said.

“You?” two of them asked in unison.

“Yes. I can go into the kennel and take a picture. That way we can show everyone the awful torture that's taking place.”

“A picture would be perfect. A picture is worth a thousand words!” trumpeted one of the younger women.

“It would be excellent!” declared a second. “
To expose is to oppose
. If we can show the world what they're doing, throw open the door, then people will rise up against it!”

“We know that,” the older woman said, “and so do the vivisectionists. And that's why they won't allow you in there, especially with a camera.”

“That's right,” one of the other women said, sounding disappointed.

“But they might allow Ruth.”

“Me? But I've already been in there.”

“And you were very brave indeed. I was just hoping that you could go back, this time with a camera,” Melissa said.

“I don't own a camera!” I protested.

“We could get one for you to use.”

“But my mother told me not to go back into the kennel,” I said. “I told her about what I saw and she made me promise.”

“Well, that's the end of that,” the older woman said. “We would never ask a young girl to go against the wishes of her mother.”

I felt a sudden and powerful sense of relief.

“Then I guess it's up to me to take the picture,” Melissa said.

“Which brings us back to the problem of getting into the building,” the oldest woman said.

“What if they're all preoccupied by something … something like a demonstration on the front steps?” Melissa suggested.

“That would be the worst time. All eyes are focused on that front door during the demonstrations. You'll never get past without the police seeing you.”

“There must be another way in. Surely this building has more than one door,” she said.

“It has many, but they're all locked,” one of the women said.

“Not all of them,” I put in, and felt like biting my tongue. Why hadn't I learned to keep my mouth shut? All four women stared at me—eyes wide, hopeful expressions on their faces.

“So are you saying there
is
another way in?” Melissa asked.

I nodded. “It's usually locked, but it's open … at least it's open right now. It's the way I came out.”

“And you can show me this door … lead me to it?” Melissa asked.

“I could,” I admitted.

“Once you show me the way, you won't have to do anything else,” Melissa said. “I'll find the kennel and get in and out on my own.”

“It would be so helpful to our cause,” the older woman said.

“And it would mean so much,” one of the other women said. “Not just to us and to the cause, but to those dogs. Perhaps we could even save them.”

“It would take a great deal of bravery,” Melissa said. “You were brave enough to go into the kennel. Do you think you could be brave enough again to give me an opening so that I could do the same?”

“No one would ever have to know your part,” the older woman said, “but you'd be a hero—an unsung hero—to those dogs.”

A hero. My father was a hero, and they'd given him a medal for it. Maybe you didn't need a war to make you a hero. It wasn't like a battlefield, but I could
make a difference in my own way. I just had to be brave and bold and make up my mind.

I nodded my head ever so slightly. “I could do it,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

All four women started shrieking and Melissa threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. People all around turned to look at us. This wasn't exactly the reaction I wanted … this wasn't the way to keep things private and confidential.

“Now all we need is a camera,” one of the women said.

“I know where we can get one,” the older woman said. She pointed to a man standing at the back of the crowd. He was holding a big black camera. “He's a photographer with the
Toronto Telegram
. I've known him since he was in diapers and knew his mother and grandmother before him. I'm sure he'll gladly lend you his camera, especially if we agree to allow him to publish whatever pictures you take.”

“That would be wonderful. The paper has a large circulation—thousands of people could see the truth!” Melissa exclaimed.

“His camera might be complicated. Do you think you could work it?” the older woman asked.

“If he'd give me a short lesson, I'm sure I could manage it,” Melissa said. “Can you talk to him while Ruth shows me the way in?”

“Certainly. We'll delay the demonstration for a few minutes while you get ready.”

Melissa turned to me. “Now where is this door?”

“It's around the far side of the building.”

“Why don't you go off by yourself and I'll meet you there so that no one sees us leaving together.”

I shook my head. “You might not be able to find the door if I'm not with you. It's hidden.”

“Sounds like a door from a fairy tale,” Melissa said with a laugh. “Do I need a magic wand or a password to reveal it?”

“All you need to do is bend down and look under the bushes. It's behind some trees and shrubs,” I explained.

“I'm sure I can find it. Go ahead and wait inside the building, by the door, for me to arrive. I'll be there in ten minutes. Do you have a watch?” Melissa asked.

I shook my head.

“Here, she can borrow mine,” one of the younger women said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a lovely gold pocket watch.

Hesitantly, reluctantly, I took it from her hand. It was beautiful. Beautiful and expensive, like one my mother once had. I certainly didn't want to think what my mother would say about any of this.

“It's a family heirloom,” she said. “It belonged to my grandfather.”

“I'll take good care of it.”

“I'll meet you at that door in ten minutes,” Melissa said. That is, if you're sure you can do it.”

“I can do it.” There was no turning back now.

I PULLED THE WATCH
ever so slightly out of the pocket of my skirt. I needed to see the time but not allow anyone else to see the watch. Not that there was anyone to see anything. The hall was deserted. It was two minutes past one—time to head for the door.

I padded along as silently as I could, but my footfalls still seemed to boom and echo down the corridor. Then again, my heart was beating so loudly I almost expected it to drown out the sound of my feet. I stopped a short way from the door and looked anxiously in both directions. There was no one. But even if there had been someone, they wouldn't have known why I was there or what I was going to do. They wouldn't have seen Melissa on the other side of the solid wooden door. I could just walk away right now.

Actually, even alone I could walk away. Later I could tell Melissa that someone had been coming and I couldn't let her in. She'd believe me. Why wouldn't she? I could just walk away and then no one would be the wiser. But what about the dogs? Who would help them? Who would be their hero?

I didn't even look at the watch. I knew it was time. I did take another look at the hallway, first one way and then the other. There was still no one in the corridor. I pushed the door open and Melissa was standing right there, holding the big black camera. She stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Which way is it?”

“The stairs are that way,” I said, pointing down the hall. “Go up … two flights … you can't miss it when you get close.”

She nodded. “Now get going, I don't want anyone to see you with me.”

I started to walk away, and then stopped and turned. “Melissa?”

She swung around.

“The watch … I have to give you the watch so you can give it back.” “That's right.”

I dug it out of my pocket and handed it to her.

“I also have one more question. How will I know what happened?”

“If I get caught you'll know it fairly soon. They'll probably send in the police to arrest me for trespassing. And if I succeed in getting the picture, just look in tomorrow's paper!”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AFTER I MADE MY WAY BACK
to the front of the building I peered out the window that overlooked the steps and the demonstration. The crowd was large, but not any larger than the last time I'd seen it, or the first time. I was even starting to recognize the same faces holding the same signs. People were clapping rhythmically and chanting, and a woman—the older woman— was climbing the steps. She moved very slowly and deliberately. She turned and raised her hands, and the crowd fell silent. I listened as she started to speak, but my mind was elsewhere … somewhere on the stairwell, or the third floor, or even inside the kennel … right there with Melissa. I hoped she wouldn't get caught, but even if she did, no one would know I was involved. Or would they?

“Is this a good place to watch?”

I practically jumped into the air. It was Dr. Banting!

“I'm sorry if I startled you,” he said. “You seemed to be lost in thought. These women are very passionate speakers.”

I nodded. I didn't know what to say. I just knew I felt very guilty.

“They truly believe in what they say,” he said.

Why wouldn't they?
I thought, but kept silent. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to be left alone.

“You know, in some ways I actually agree with them,” Dr. Banting said.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. Anyone who's ever had a pet knows that animals have feelings.”

“You agree they have feelings?” I echoed, not believing my ears.

“Growing up in the country the way I did, we always had a dog,” he said. “I'd come home from school after a bad day and that dog would always be right there, trying to cheer me up.”

“But if you think that dogs have feelings …”

“How can I operate on them knowing that ultimately it will lead to their death?” he asked.

I nodded.

“It would certainly be easier if I didn't care about them,” he said. “I've performed enough operations on humans to know that any surgical procedure can cause discomfort and even pain. Yet these procedures are necessary to save lives. And conducting this research
will give me the opportunity to find a treatment for a disease that afflicts and ultimately kills thousands, tens of thousands, of people around the world each year.”

“But what about the dogs?”

“My heart goes out to the dogs,” he said. “Especially those that have died needlessly or through my fault. Those first two dogs I operated on died—one of shock and one from an overdose of the anaesthesia. They died because of my surgical techniques and added nothing to scientific knowledge.”

“Wouldn't they have died anyway?” I asked.

“Well, yes, even if the operations had been successful, those two would have ultimately perished, but because they died on the operating table two more subjects had to be selected. Unfortunate.” He took a deep breath. “I do care, Ruthie.”

“If you care, why are their living conditions so bad?” I asked, shocking myself with the nerve I'd shown in asking the question. My mother would have a fit if she knew!

“Some things we have no control over. Things like the heat and the flies.”

“But you could clean the cages more often.”

“I wish we could. Believe me, we don't enjoy the smell in there any more than you do, but almost all our time is devoted to the scientific experiments. We have little time left to provide for the physical needs of the animals. We make sure they have food and water and try to clean the
cages as often as possible. I only wish there were funds to pay for someone to provide better care for them.”

“You could hire someone. You're getting paid!”

“Actually, I'm not. The university is providing the lab and a small amount of money to purchase supplies, but I'm not getting paid anything. Nothing.”

I didn't know what to say to that. “Well … at least they could be walked and taken outside.”

He shook his head. “Once they're operated on we need to keep them inside for health reasons, for observation purposes. As well, there's another factor.”

I waited for him to continue.

“We can't risk having the dogs anywhere near the protestors.”

“Because they'll see what you're doing to them?” I asked.

“Ah … to expose is to oppose,” he said. “I read those words in their pamphlet. And judging from the look on your face you've heard them too.”