"Does Cameron have any idea why we are so concerned about the security of Isla Francesca?" Bertram
asked.
"No, not at all," Siegfried said.
"Has he asked?"
"No, he's not that kind of person. He takes orders. He doesn't question them." "What about telling him and cutting him in on a small percentage?" Bertram suggested. "He could be very helpful."
"I'm not diluting our percentages!" Siegfried said. "Don't even suggest it. Besides, Cameron is already helpful. He does whatever I tell him to do." "What worries me the most about this episode with Kevin Marshall is that he must have said something to those women," Bertram said. "The last thing I want is for them to start thinking the bonobos on the island are using fire. If that gets out, it's just a matter of time before we have animal-rights zealots coming out of the woodwork. GenSys will shut the program down faster than you can blink your eye." "What do you think we should do?" Siegfried asked. "I could arrange to have the three of them just disappear."
Bertram glanced at Siegfried and shivered. He knew the man was not joking. "No, that could be worse," Bertram said. He looked back out through the windshield. "That might stimulate a major State-side investigation. I'm telling you, I think we should dart the bonobos, put them in the cages I brought out there, and bring them in. Sure as hell, they won't be using fire in the animal center."
"No, goddamn it!" Siegfried snapped. "The animals stay on the island. If they're brought in, you won't be able to keep it a secret. Even if they don't use fire, we know they're cunning little bastards from the problems we've had during retrievals, and maybe they'll start doing something else equally as weird. If they do, handlers will start talking. We'll be in worse shape." Bertram sighed and ran a nervous hand through his white hair. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that Siegfried had a point. Still, he thought it best to bring the animals in, mainly to keep them isolated from each other.
"I'll be talking to Raymond Lyons tomorrow," Siegfried said. "I tried to call him earlier. I figured that since Kevin Marshall had already talked to him, we might as well get his opinion about what to do. After all, this whole operation is his creation. He doesn't want trouble any more than we do." "True," Bertram said.
"Tell me something," Siegfried said. "If the animals are using fire, how do you think they got it? You still think it was lightning?"
"I'm not sure," Bertram said. "It could have been lightning. But, then again, they managed to steal a bunch of tools, rope, and other stuff when we had the crew out there constructing the island side of the bridge mechanism. No one even thought about the possibility of theft. I mean, everything was secured in
toolboxes. Anyway, they might have gotten matches. Of course, I have no idea how they could have
figured out how to use them."
"You just gave me an idea," Siegfried said. "Why don't we tell Kevin and the women there's been a crew going out to the island over the past week to do some kind of work like cutting trails. We can say that we've just found out that they have been starting the fires." "Now that's a damn good idea!" Bertram said. "It makes perfect sense. We've even considered putting a bridge over the Rio Diviso."
"Why the hell didn't we think of it earlier?" Siegfried questioned. "It's so obvious." Ahead the LandCruiser's headlights illuminated the first of the animal-center's buildings. "Where do you want me to park?" Siegfried asked. "Pull right up to the front," Bertram said. "You can wait in the air. It will only take me a second." Siegfried took his foot off the accelerator and began to brake. "What the hell!" Bertram said.
"What's the matter?"
"There's a light on in my office," Bertram answered. "This looks promising," Candace called out as she pulled a large folder from the top drawer of the file cabinet. The folder was dark blue and closed with an attached elastic. In the upper right-hand corner it said: ISLA FRANCESCA.
Melanie pushed in the drawer of the desk she'd been searching and walked over to Candace. Kevin appeared from the outer office and joined them. Candace snapped off the elastic and opened the folder. She slid the contents out onto a library table. There were wiring diagrams of electronic equipment, computer printouts, and numerous maps. There was also a large and lumpy manila envelope that had the words STEVENSON BRIDGE written across its top.
"Now we're cooking," Candace said. She opened the envelope, reached in, and pulled out a ring with five identical keys.
"Voila," Melanie said. She took the ring and began to remove one of the keys. Kevin peeked at the maps and picked up a detailed contour map. He had it partially unfolded when he became aware of a flickering light out of the corner of his eye. Glancing at the window, he saw the reflections of headlight beams dancing along the slats of the half open blinds. Stepping over to the window, he peeked out.
"Uh-oh!" Kevin croaked. "It's Siegfried's car." "Quick!" Melanie said. "Get this all back into the file cabinet."
Melanie and Candace hastily crammed everything back into the folder, got the folder into the file cabinet,
and closed the drawer. No sooner was it closed than they heard the rattle of the front door of the building as it was opened.
"This way!" Melanie whispered frantically. She motioned toward a door behind Bertram's desk. Quickly, the three went through the door. As Kevin closed it, he could hear the door to the outer office being pulled open.
They had entered one of Bertram's examining rooms. It was constructed of white tile and had a central stainless-steel examining table. Like Bertram's inner office it had windows covered with blinds. Enough light filtered in to allow them to rush over to the door to the hall. Unfortunately, en route Kevin kicked a stainless-steel pail standing on the floor next to the examining table. The pail clanged up against the table leg. In the stillness, it sounded like a gong at an amusement park. Melanie reacted by throwing open the door to the hall and racing toward the stairwell. Candace followed. As Kevin dashed into the hall, he heard the door to Bertram's office slam open. He had no idea if he'd been seen or not.
In the stairwell, Melanie descended as fast as the moonlight would allow. She could hear Candace and Kevin behind her. She slowed at the foot of the stairs to grope for the door to the basement level. She got it open none too soon. Above they heard the first-floor stairwell door open, followed by heavy footfalls on the metal stairs.
The basement was utterly black save for a dim rectangular outline of light in the distance. Holding on to each other, they made their way toward the light. It wasn't until they had reached it that Kevin and Candace realized it was a fire door with light seeping around its periphery. Melanie had it open with her magnetic card once she'd located the slot. Beyond the fire door was a brightly lit hallway which allowed them to run full tilt. Melanie pulled them to an abrupt halt halfway down the narrow passageway. There she opened a door marked PATHOLOGY. "Inside," Melanie barked. Wordlessly, everyone complied. Closing the door, Melanie locked it with a throw bolt. They were standing in an anteroom for two autopsy theaters. There were scrub sinks, several desks, and a large insulated door leading to a refrigerated room. "Why did we come in here?" Kevin said with panic in his voice. "We're trapped." "Not quite," Melanie said breathlessly. "This way." She motioned for them to follow her around the corner. To Kevin's surprise there was an elevator. Melanie pounded the call-button, which brought forth an immediate whine of its machinery. At the same time, the floor indicator illuminated to show the elevator cab was on the third floor.
"Come on!" Melanie pleaded as if her urging could speed up the apparatus. Since it was a freight elevator, it was agonizingly slow. It was just passing the second floor when the door to the hallway rattled on its hinges followed by a muffled expletive. The three exchanged panicky glances. "They'll be in here in the next few seconds," Kevin said. "Is there
another way out?"
Melanie shook her head. "Only the elevator." "We have to hide," Kevin said.
"What about the refrigerator?" Candace offered. With no time to argue, the three darted to the refrigerator. Kevin got the door open. A cool mist flowed out to layer itself along the floor. Candace went in first, followed by Melanie and then Kevin. Kevin pulled the door shut. It's hardware clicked soundly. The room was twenty feet square, with stainless-steel shelving from floor to ceiling that lined the periphery as well as forming a central island. The hulks of a number of dead primates lay on the shelves. The most impressive was the body of a huge silver-back male gorilla on the middle shelf of the central island. The illumination in the room came from bare light bulbs within wire cages attached to the ceiling at intervals along the walkways.
Instinctively, the three rushed around to the back of the central island and squatted down. Their heavy breathing formed fleeting spheres of mist in the frigid temperature. The smell was not pleasant with a hint of ammonia, but it was tolerable.
Surrounded by heavy insulation, Kevin and the others could not hear a sound inside the refrigerator, not even the whine of the elevator. At least not until they heard the unmistakable click of the refrigerator door's latch.
Kevin felt his heart skip a beat as the door was pulled open. Preparing himself to see the sneering face of Siegfried, Kevin slowly raised his head to look over the bulk of the dead gorilla. To his surprise it wasn't Siegfried. It was two men in scrub suits carrying in the body of a chimpanzee. Wordlessly, the men placed the remains of the dead ape on a shelf to the right just inside the door and then left. Once the door was closed, Kevin looked down at Melanie and sighed. "This has to have been the worst day of my life."
"It's not over yet," Melanie said. "We still have to get out of here. But at least we got what we came for." She opened her fist and held up the key. Light glinted off its chrome-colored surface. Kevin looked at his own hand. Without realizing it, he was still clutching the detailed contour map of Isla Francesca.
Bertram turned on the light in the hallway as he exited the stairwell. He'd gone up to the second floor and had entered the pediatric unit. He'd asked the crew if anybody had just run through. The answer was no. Entering his examination room, he switched on the light in there as well. Siegfried appeared at the door to Bertram's office.
"Well?" Siegfried questioned.
"I don't know if someone was in here or not," Bertram said. He looked down at the stainless-steel pail that had moved from its normal position under the edge of the examining table.
"Did you see anyone?" Siegfried asked.
"Not really," Bertram said. He shook his head. "Maybe the janitorial crew left the lights on." "Well, it underlines my concerns about the keys," Siegfried said. Bertram nodded. He reached out with his foot and pushed the stainless-steel bucket back to its normal position. He turned out the light in the examining room before following Siegfried back into his office. Bertram opened the top drawer of the file cabinet and pulled out the Isla Francesca folder. He unsnapped the securing elastic and pulled out the contents. "What's the matter?" Siegfried asked.
Bertram had hesitated. As a compulsively neat individual he could not imagine having crammed everything into the folder so haphazardly. Fearing the worst, it was with some relief that he lifted the Stevenson Bridge envelope and felt the lump made by the ring of keys. CHAPTER 12: MARCH 5, 1997 6:45 P.M.
NEW YORK CITY
"THIS is the damndest thing," Jack said. He was peering into his microscope at one particular slide and had been doing so intently for the previous half hour. Chet had tried to talk with him but had given up. When Jack was concentrating, it was impossible to get his attention. "I'm glad you are enjoying yourself," Chet said. He'd just stood up in preparation to leave and was about to heft his briefcase.
Jack leaned back and shook his head. "Everything about this case is screwy." He looked up at Chet and was surprised to see he had his coat on. "Oh, are you leaving? " "Yeah, and I've been trying to say goodbye for the last fifteen minutes." "Take a look at this before you go," Jack said. He motioned toward his microscope as he pushed away from the desk to give Chet room.
Chet debated. He checked his watch. He was due at his gym for a seven o'clock aerobics class. He'd had his eye on one of the girls who was a regular. In an effort to build up the courage to approach her, he'd been taking the class himself. The problem was that she was in far better shape than he, so that at the end of the class he was always too winded to talk. "Come on, sport," Jack said. "Give me your golden opinion." Chet let go of his briefcase, leaned over, and peered into the eyepieces of Jack's microscope. With no explanation from Jack, he first had to figure out what the tissue was. "So, you're still looking at this frozen section of liver," he said.
"It's been entertaining me all afternoon," Jack said. "Why not wait for the regular fixed sections?" Chet said. "These frozen sections are so limiting."
"I've asked Maureen to get them out as soon as she can," Jack said. "But meanwhile this is all I have.
What do you think of the area under the pointer?" Chet played with the focus. One of the many problems with frozen sections was they were often thick and the cellular architecture appeared fuzzy. "I'd say it looks like a granuloma," Chet said. A granuloma was the cellular sign of chronic, cell-mediated inflammation.
"That was my thought as well," Jack said. "Now move the field over to the right. It will show a part of the liver surface. What do you see there?" Chet did as he was told, while worrying that if he was late to the gym, there wouldn't be a spot in the aerobics class. The instructor was one of the most popular. "I see what looks like a large, scarred cyst," Chet said. "Does it look at all familiar?" Jack asked. "Can't say it does," Chet said. "In fact, I'd have to say it looks a little weird." "Well said," Jack remarked. "Now, let me ask you a question." Chet raised his head and looked at his office mate. Jack's domed forehead was wrinkled with confusion. "Does this look like a liver that you'd expect to see in a relatively recent transplant?" "Hell, no!" Chet said. "I'd expect some acute inflammation but certainly not a granuloma. Especially if the process could be seen grossly as suggested by the collapsed surface cyst." Jack sighed. "Thank you! I was beginning to question my judgment. It's reassuring to hear you've come to the same conclusion."
"Knock, knock!" a voice called out.
Jack and Chet looked up to see Ted Lynch, the director of the DNA lab, standing in the doorway. He was a big man, almost in Calvin Washington's league. He'd been an all-American tackle for Princeton before going on to graduate school.
"I got some results for you, Jack," Ted said. "But I'm afraid it's not what you want to hear, so I thought I'd come down and tell you in person. I know you've been thinking you've got a liver transplant here, but the DQ alpha was a perfect match, suggesting it was the patient's own liver." Jack threw up his hands. "I give up," he said. "Now there was still a chance it was a transplant," Ted said. "There are twenty-one possible genotypes of the DQ alpha sequence, and the test fails to discriminate about seven percent of the time. But I went ahead and ran the ABO blood groups on chromosome nine, and it was a perfect match as well. Combining the two results, the chances are mighty slim it's not the patient's own liver."