Free The Great Zoo of China by Matthew Reilly

communication.’
    CJ nodded.
    Alligators did indeed communicate in this way. Their barks and grunts were both complex and very specific, a kind of guttural language. One of her old colleagues from the University of Florida, Dr Benjamin Patrick, had pioneered the study of alligator vocalisations, going so far as to compile a database of over sixty distinct sounds made by alligators. He had run those vocalisations through a purpose-built supercomputer in an attempt to find similarities and commonalities among them; in effect, to translate their language.
    Similar studies had been done with dolphins and chimpanzees. Dolphins were known to vocalise their names when they jumped out of water and packs of chimps had specific grunts that meant ‘leopard’ or ‘hyena’. Patrick’s work with gators had been an attempt to take this to the next level.
    Six years older than CJ, Ben Patrick had also been the most handsome guy in the faculty and every woman there had had a crush on him. When he’d asked CJ—fresh out of graduate school and before her disfigurement—on a date, she’d jumped at it. But there had been no second date, because during that single dinner, CJ discovered quite clearly that Ben Patrick loved only one thing: Ben Patrick. He had only talked about himself. It pained her, even now, to recall that one disastrous date.
    Arrogant and self-absorbed as he was, CJ had to admit that Patrick was brilliant. His analysis of alligator vocalisations was simply extraordinary. But then about eight years ago, when his research seemed to be hitting a peak, he had suddenly left the university for a much higher paying job at the University of Shanghai. CJ hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
    ‘A colleague of mine named Ben Patrick once did some excellent work in the field of alligator vocalisations,’ CJ said.
    ‘He did indeed,’ Hu said, ‘which is why he is working here, right now, at our zoo. His discoveries here have far outstripped the ones he made with alligators. He works in our Birthing Centre. When we stop by there later, hopefully we will run into Dr Patr—’
    Suddenly, with a great whoosh-whoosh , two purple emperor dragons swept past the cable car. They were indeed the size of airliners and their fly-by caused the cable car to rock gently and the trees on a nearby crag to bend and flutter.
    Everybody grabbed a handhold.
    Hu chuckled. ‘It’s okay. These cable cars are the best in the world. Swiss designed. Our emperors don’t realise the wake they make when they fly past.’
    CJ whipped around, following with wide eyes the two purple emperors that had swept by.
    Their heads alone were simply monstrous in size, as big as a four-wheel drive. Their long teeth, protruding menacingly from their lips, were almost as big as she was.
    ‘Good God . . .’ she breathed. ‘Good God.’

    The cable car passed through the watchtower-like way station halfway between the main entrance building and the central mountain.
    ‘We call this the Halfway Hut,’ Na said. ‘There is a café-restaurant above us that offers excellent views and affordable meals. Also, hikers walking along the valley trails can access a cable car here if they run out of breath.’
    As his guests watched the dragons, Hu Tang watched them. They seemed to be enjoying the cable car ride. Hu was particularly pleased to see the two New York Times men nod approvingly when Na mentioned the affordable meals at the Halfway Hut. The consultants had said American visitors would like that: having differently priced restaurants to suit people of different levels of wealth.
    The cable car pushed on.
    Rising up directly in front of it, dominating the valley, was the central mountain. A silver disc-shaped structure sat atop its summit.
    ‘What do you think that is?’ CJ asked Hamish. ‘A revolving restaurant?’
    Hamish shrugged. ‘Or a captured flying saucer.’
    Hu stepped forward, resuming his presentation: ‘We think it was the thick layer of nickel