Wahoo slipped out of the raccoon pen, padlocked the gate and began washing his hands with a garden hose.

“Don’t forget the soap, mate,” said a voice behind him.

Wahoo spun around and there stood Derek Badger. At his side was Raven Stark.

“Take me to your alligator,” Derek commanded.

“I’d better go get my dad.”

“Hurry, then. Chop-chop.”

Raven Stark spoke up. “Derek’s totally exhausted. He traveled all night from Paris.”

“A wretched flight,” said Derek. “Didn’t sleep a wink.”

Wahoo had no trouble believing it. The man’s eyelids were puffy, his pale cheeks were blotched and his hair-more orange than blond-was matted and oily. He wore black loafers with no socks, wrinkled white linen trousers and an untucked safari-style shirt that failed to hide his roundish belly. To Wahoo, Derek Badger looked more like a groggy tourist than a sturdy survivalist.

“I’m on a tight schedule,” he said, glancing at his wristwatch.

Wahoo ran to the house and returned with his father. Raven Stark handled the introductions. Mickey managed a smile as he shook Derek’s hand.

“We’re lookin’ forward to working with you,” Mickey said, which wasn’t exactly true but it sounded good.

Wahoo appreciated his father’s effort to be respectful. Staging a nature show for a network star like Derek was a big deal. If everything went smoothly, it might lead to more TV jobs.

“Let’s go see Alice, shall we?” said Raven Stark.

The gator was snoozing on the bank of the pond. Derek took one look at the huge reptile and said, “She’s perfect.” Then he turned to Raven Stark. “When can we move her?”

“Move her?” Mickey asked.

Raven Stark said, “We’re going to be shooting on location out by the Tamiami Trail.”