Tiny Monkey Trouble

This was the first day on her new job as an intern for a conservation crew. Carrie first noticed something unusual when the poachers were arrested in their high-rise mansion in San Diego. Among the torture tools of the trade, left behind were horns, rugs, bad examples of taxidermy, and trophy heads mounted on the walls. Once the poachers were arrested, the contents of their trade went into evidence. Carrie wondered: what happens if something is still alive?

The men were carrying out the bigger pieces, boxed and wrapped carefully, to be distributed to zoos and educational programs to help protect poached species. Carrie was listing the items, describing them, photographing them, and labeling the boxes. She looked up above the fireplace mantel, and the tiniest monkey she had ever seen was there. She approached it slowly; she took photos of it as she walked closer. It allowed her to get close enough to put her hand out. It climbed into her hand and looked at her.

With tigers and rhinos being hunted into extinction, she wondered if this small creature was in the same boat. Since it was so small, many might overlook its importance in the animal world. Carrie brought it closer to her face, and then it jumped into her pocket. She was there on behalf of the World Wildlife Conservation group, led by a world-renowned professor whose specialty was primatology. She approached the man in the white lab coat and asked what it was. The professor asked, “What are you talking about?”

Carrie opened her pocket a little so the professor could see. The little money poked his head up and looked around. The professor said, “A pygmy marmoset. How enchanting. They are found mainly in the Amazon basin, and traders bring them to China where it’s illegal to own them. Of course, we know money gets you everything.” He put his hand out and the marmoset jumped onto his hand. “It’s a shame, though. Most of these don’t live in captivity long. Their diet is highly specific and indigenous to that area in South America.” The little one, whom Carrie nicknamed Tiny, jumped back into Carrie’s pocket. “It seems it’s taken a shine to you.”

“His name is Tiny. Or hers. I can’t tell.”

“It looks like a male. He’s full grown.” He pulled up information on his phone. “While their conservation status is least concerned, their numbers are decreasing because in certain countries they’ve become trendy pets. They’re called thumb or finger monkeys. Tiny’s best bet is to go back home to Ecuador where he probably came from.” The professor closed the page on his phone. “If you can, you can take him. Here’s my number. I’ll set you up with someone who apprenticed under Jane Goodall. Leila Porter is her name, and these animals are her focus of study. She might still be at Northern Illinois University.”

Tucked in her pocket, Tiny started to squeal. It was a high-pitched squeal, and she didn’t know what it meant. The professor gave Carrie contact information for Ms. Porter. “You might give her a call to find out what he wants.”

She was now the caretaker for a monkey. Animal conservation has always been an important issue for Carrie, and she finally got her chance to become a monkey momma. She looked around the mantel to see if anything was left behind, perhaps a food source for Tiny. There was a small branch there; it looked like it came from a small potted tree or bush that was on either side of the fireplace. As soon as she got closer to them, Tiny jumped out onto the tree branch and started nibbling at it. He was hungry, she surmised.

Now she knew she had to take the trees along with her. They were heavy, but they’d fit in her housing unit back at the Conservation compound. She asked around, and several men volunteered to carry those buckets of trees back to the truck. Her area of expertise was with snakes, and she had to fill in her gaps of knowledge on primates. She drove home with the trees in her trunk and a tiny monkey in her pocket.

As soon as she got home, she found a small box and put some cotton in one side, a small cat bowl with a few tablespoons of water, and one of the sticks in it. Gently she placed Tiny in the box, his new home for a few days. She kept the box beside her overnight, and when she woke up, Tiny was curled up on her neck. She didn’t want to move and awaken him, but she had to get up. She picked him up and placed him back in his box, which to him just seemed like a landing spot. He really preferred being anywhere else. Literally.

Carrie pulled the phone number out of her pocket and dialed the number. It went to voicemail, and she provided her contact information and situation. All she could do now is wait. She looked around, but Tiny wasn’t in his box. Not on the windowsill, the chest of drawers, the bureau. There, atop the curtain rod, he was, ready to jump again. To him, her room was a giant jungle. It’s all about perspective.

Her phone rang, and she expected Ms. Porter to be on the other end. Instead, a rough voice said, “We know you got the marmoset. We want him back. Leave him in a bag on the bench in the middle of the park tomorrow at 9 or one of you will die.” Then the line went dead.

This wasn’t covered in her training manual. Animals were never as much trouble as people were. She knew she was dealing with poachers, and they didn’t take no for an answer. She couldn’t go to the police because they’d say they don’t deal with “squirrels.” She dialed the professor instead. She explained the situation which sounded a bit crazy as she said it. A kidnapped marmoset or death.

“Putting him in a bag is risky. If they are late, he dies of heat or lack of oxygen. Another animal could get at him, or he could chew or tear open a corner of the bag.” Carrie thought what might happen next. Without the marmoset, they’d come after her. “Thanks,” she replied. “I’ll put him a box with holes. That’s safer for him.” She hung up and rubbed the sides of her face in worry when Tiny jumped onto her hair. “Thanks, little guy. What are we going to do with you?” She took her phone out and wrote down the number that the threat came from. She used a couple of reverse searches to see if the number was listed, and all she found were spoofed numbers where the area code is the same, but the number is unknown. To do that, she thought, he’d have to know where she lived. They had to know her number, and that she was part of the WWC group. They also had to know she had the marmoset.

She was approaching this as a detective would, noting the details and creating a mental bulletin board with sticky notes containing names, numbers, dates, and times. The phone rang again, and she quickly looked at the number. It was Ms. Porter returning her call.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Porter. I mean Dr. Porter. Thank you for calling me back.” She explained all that had happened from the raid on the mansion down to finding Tiny in the poachers’ hideaway and the threatening call.

“Dear me, all over a pygmy marmoset. About six years ago, China celebrated the year of the monkey, and monkeys and marmosets were going for about $6,000 each. They might be worth more now because there’s been more pressure from anti-poaching groups.” Dr. Porter continued. “If you can get him here, we can watch him more carefully. There are two types of pygmy marmosets, and color alone can’t determine which is which. DNA tests can. Once I do that, I can pinpoint where the rest of his troop resides.”

“Troop?”

“Yes, that’s what a group of marmosets is called. There’s usually an average of 8-10 in one group, and they act as a single-family unit.”

“What city should I fly into?”

“Chicago is too big. Come into DeKalb Taylor Municipal Airport instead. It’s a smaller place. I’ll meet you there. If you leave now, you can be here in about 2-3 hours.”

“I can’t…I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Don’t worry. The university is covering the costs. This has been my research for seven years; I’m not throwing it away for even a single pygmy.”

After Dr. Porter provided her the airline carrier information, Carrie threw together a go-bag for the trip. She put Tiny in a small garment washing bag and put it in her pocket with the tie handing around one of her buttons. She drove her car to the San Diego Airport and met up with the private side of the airport. She wasn’t travelling in a giant Boeing. Instead, she was climbing into a Cessna with a monkey in her pocket.

It was a bumpy ride. She was buckled in tightly, making sure not to go near that side of her shirt. She worried about the change in air pressure, but it didn’t affect her that much since the plane stayed rather low. They landed at DeKalb in a little more than two hours. She saw the van with the university colors on it.

“I’m glad you made it. Let me see the monkey,” demanded the lady in the blue outfit.

“Sure, Mrs. Andrews. He’s in the cargo area.” Carrie suspected something was wrong.

“Oh, ok,” replied the woman in blue. “I’ll wait here. Bring him to me.”

Carrie walked toward the back side of the plane and crossed to opposite side. She started running as fast as she could, holding on to her pocket as she did. She ran behind other planes, cargo carriers, and finally jumped onto a moving baggage cart. Staying low, she double checked to make sure Tiny was ok, which he was. She had to find Dr. Porter soon. She pulled out her phone and contacted her. “Someone is after me! I’m at the airport, or rather under the airport now.”

“Ok. Stay there, I’m about ten minutes away. I’ll have an ugly white station wagon. You can’t miss it.”

Carrie jumped off as the cart slowed down, and she hid behind a black minivan. Her detective skills were on point. Dr. Porter wouldn’t have demanded “the monkey.” She left behind her suitcase, but she felt this was a bit more important. She heard an old vehicle coming down the parking garage ramp. An old Plymouth station wagon, once a common sight in every town, was chugging its way through the garage. Carrie emerged from behind the van and waved her down. She got into the car with Dr. Porter.

“I know this is an unconventional university vehicle, but it’s the best for transporting the marmosets between labs. Pleased to meet you, Carrie. Welcome to Chicago.”

“Thank you, Dr. Porter. He’s right here.” Tiny peeked his head out of the bag. “He needs his stick.”

“It’s more of a vine, but I’ve got plenty in the lab.” Dr. Porter drove through the back roads, watching traffic carefully. “Tell me what happened.”

Carrie explained the incident with the blue lady.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

“She said, ‘Let me see the monkey,’ and I knew you wouldn’t refer to him that way. Then I called her Mrs. Andrews, and she didn’t flinch. That’s when I knew not to hand him over. I lied and said he was in cargo.”

“Good thinking. Your unit at the compound must’ve been bugged. This sounds like an inside job. How many people knew you had the pygmy?”

“Just one. Just the one professor.”

“Did he give you his name? Did you say World Wildlife Conservation group? Out of San Diego?” Dr. Porter thought for a moment. “Dr. Smithers runs that group. I’m sure of it.” She asked Siri to call Dr. Smithers. “Hello, Bill. This is Leila. How are you? Oh, good. I have a question. Were you involved with the raid on the Shale Mansion today? Yes, the one in San Diego. No? Ok. Just checking, thank you.” Dr. Porter said, “This is bad. When you mentioned the mansion, I knew it was the Shale place. It’s a well-known haven for having specimens of every type of exotic animal. Dr Smithers, the one who runs that rescue, wasn’t there. You were duped by someone who was acting as a professor.”

“I feel like an idiot. I didn’t ask to see credentials.” She looked down at Tiny, who squeaked. “He’s hungry.”

“Yes, he is. That’s good.” She pulled into a faculty parking spot at the lab. “But whoever that fake guy was - he knows me, he knew about the university. He’s a specialized poacher. Whoever is paying him is paying him very well to be that exposed. He even had someone here to intercept Tiny.”

“What do we do next?”

“We get him into the lab, feed him, identify a tiny bit of DNA, give him some time to calm down. And then we fly out in the morning. In the meanwhile, I’ll find someone to get you a new bag from the NIU bookstore with some clothes and toiletries. Jot down a list of what you need.”

“You must have clout up here,” Carrie mused.

Dr. Porter smiled. “I’ve been studying these pygmies my entire career. My doctoral thesis was on identifying there are two difference species that exist, not just one, which changed the taxonomic chart a little. That’s a big deal in the science world, and the university knows it. They give me free reign and nice expense report allowances.”

They went into the lab, with every surface stainless steel and spotless. Giant locked cabinets with carefully labelled bottles lined either wall. They went into another room, and squeaks, trills, and calls of every kind started. This was where all the marmosets under Dr. Porter’s watch were kept. Tiny started making noises back. He climbed out of Carrie’s pocket and jumped onto the side of one of the cages. He looked and each and every one as if he were looking for family.

“He’s looking for a familiar face. Let me get him some food.” She went to a basket in the middle of the room and pulled out a branch and held it aloft. Tiny jumped parkour-style and onto the stick, nibbling at it and pulling the sap from it. “He’s so hungry.” She let him finish and then held out her hand. He trustingly climbed into it. “I’m going to take a microscopic bit of blood from him. He’s going to scream, which will make the rest scream. They’re highly social creatures.”

She pulled out a tiny needle and pricked the back leg of the marmoset. He howled, and the rest screamed. The cacophony was one Dr. Porter was familiar with, but Carrie was unsettled. “They communicate with one another by certain frequencies of squeaks and trills and calls. Tiny just alerted them to his injury.” She let Tiny go, who immediately climbed back into Carrie’s pocket for safety. “This is all I need.” She first checked that her doors were locked, and then put the sample on the slide. Under the scanning electron microscope, she adjusted the lens and peered in. “Southwestern. Peru. Just south of the Nano River. Pantoja, most likely, based on who he “talked” with the most in here.

Carrie stood amazed. This is what research is. This is science. Bringing back a primate leaning toward extinction and protecting it. “Now what?”

“Tomorrow we fly to Peru. Iquitos is safest and closest.”

Carrie’s eyes flew open wide. “Just like that?”

“Tiny here and the two troops over there are going along. I think Tiny will be accepted as a mature male in one of these troops, and they were overdue to be returned.”

A text message came across Carrie’s phone: “We will get the marmoset.” She showed Dr. Porter.

“I don’t think so.” Dr. Porter used the phone in the lab and called a number. “Hello? Merrick? Good evening. This is Dr. Leila Porter from Northern Illinois University near Chicago. Yes, that one. I need a handful of officers from the ENRD here. We’ve been threatened by a poaching cartel, and we can’t leave the building. Yes, Sir. Two of us. And some pygmy marmosets. No, they don’t bite. Peru. Tomorrow morning. Yes, Sir. Thank you again.” And she hung up. With one call she contacted the Attorney General of the United States.

“This is way out of my league,” Carrie said.

Dr. Porter explained. “The DOJ has a division called Environment and Natural Resources. It’s their job to handle the poachers. They’ve taken care of us before. And we know the poachers are coming to us. In a few hours, we can watch the action on the security cameras.” There was a ringing sound inside the lab that alarmed Carrie. “That’s my assistant, Linda. She has your bag and some food for us.” A chute in the wall opened and a conveyor brought in a bag with clothes and toiletries for both women, and some takeout. “Now we just wait. You can identify the fake professor and the woman in blue when the agents get them.”

This is going to be a long night, Carrie thought. I hope I can sleep on the plane.

After dinner, Dr. Porter pulled out some comfortable chairs from behind the cabinet and invited Carrie to sit. “It’s peaceful here. Sometimes I just sit here and listen to them chatter with each other.” And chatter they did. Tiny clung to the cage farthest on the right. “It won’t be long, little fella. We’ll get you home.”

They dozed off for a bit, and then the lab phone rang. “Dr. Porter. Yes. OK. She can identify them. Put them up to the camera.” Dr. Porter turned on an old-school security screen, and outside the lab several men in uniforms had one guy’s face about 5 inches from the screen. Carrie nodded. “Yes, that’s the fake professor. He’s the lead.” Then the face of an angry woman was pushed up. Carrie nodded again. “Yes, that’s his contact here in Chicago. Thank you, kind sirs. I will be sure to mention this to Mr. Garland.” She ended the call. “Now we nap until the plane is ready to take us to Peru. It’s a long flight, so you can get some sleep there.”

Carrie, the new intern, leaned back in her chair, amazed at the events of her very first day on the job. A successful raid, false identity, a tiny monkey, a threat on her life, a private jet, another fraud, a chase, a station wagon, a brilliant PhD with connections, a room full of marmosets, and a trip to Peru.

“I think I’m going to like this job,” Carrie said. “Never a dull moment.”