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The Hunter and the Hunted: Jurassic Park - Chapters 1-4
By Chaotician
THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTED : JURASSIC PARK
Thank you to Steven Spielberg, David Koepp, and the entire cast and crew of The Lost World. Without the film’s characters and situations, this story would not be possible.
And a special thanks to Michael Crichton, the man who started it all.
“Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely another strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.”
Chief Seattle, 1854
“You can make a boat, but you can’t make the ocean. You can make an airplane, but you can’t make the air. Your powers are much less than your dreams would have you to believe.”
Michael Crichton, 1997
1. STARK
Summer 1997
The African savannah shimmered under the midday sun as two khaki jeep wranglers tore loudly across the open, grassy plain. Five metres ahead of the vehicle was a large rhinoceros. The animal was snorting heavily as it struggled to remain ahead of the wranglers.
A man leaned out of the passenger side of the first jeep, firing a sedative-loaded dart into the rhino’s thigh. The creature bellowed in anger and slowed slightly. Both jeeps lurched to a stop, surrounding the distressed animal.
Two men hopped out of the first wrangler, holding rods with strong wire lassos attached.
A sandy-haired man clambered hurriedly from the second wrangler, barking orders: “Get the head down, Jack ! Ken, Take out the back legs !”
Jack flung his lasso around the rhino’s scaly neck, grunting as he pulled the animal to the side, causing it to kick up it’s back legs. As it did so, Ken slipped his noose around both rear legs. The animal thrashed wildly, kicking up dust and pebbles. The sandy-haired man grabbed a silver electric shock rod from his vehicle, hurried forward and jammed it savagely into the rhino’s back. There was a sharp crack as electricity crossed over. The sandy-haired man pressed the rod in deeper. Harder. He gritted his teeth, the veins in his neck stood out from the force.
The rhino began to stop struggling as the tranquilizer took effect. The animal’s eyes glazed over and Ken jerked his line hard forcing the rhino to collapse onto it’s side.
It gave a final jerk of protest, then lay silent.
The sandy-haired man looked over the fallen animal, squinting in the sunlight. He pulled his cap down low over his eyes. “Wrap it up, guys. This one’s for the zoo.”
The sandy-haired man’s name was Dieter Stark. He was a game hunter of repute, spending most of his time working in his native South Africa, trapping animals for international zoos or local ones. At forty-four, Stark had earned a reputation for having a very un-blinking view of animals. He believed they were all distinctly inferior to human beings and simply a means of earning money.
Finished with his current assignment, Stark left the savannah and drove his wrangler into one of the main cities.
Dieter went up to his small apartment and sagged on a dusty couch. He reached over and pulled a beer from the fridge, popping the lid and taking a mouthful.
There was a loud electronic tone as Stark’s phone rang. He moved over to the table and picked it up, still holding his beer in one hand.
“Yeah.”
“Good day, may I speak to Dieter Stark please,” a steady English voice answered.
“This is Stark,” Dieter replied.
“Ah, Mr. Stark, I am Peter Ludlow, the new chief executive officer of the InGen corporation. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
“Nope.”
“Well, we are one of the most prominent companies in the world dealing with research into genetic engineering. We can send you out a copy of our annual report if you like.”
Stark swigged his beer. “What did you call for, Mr. Ludlow?”
There was a slight pause at the other end, and a small coughing sound as Ludlow cleared his throat. “We require your services and expertise, and will pay handsomely for them, if you could join our team on an expedition to Costa Rica.”
“Costa Rica ? What animals are you going after there?”
There was another pause. “Ah, I cannot disclose that over the phone.”
Stark rolled his eyes and drank some beer, growing increasingly impatient with the other man’s secrecy.
“Well, what the hell can you tell me ? If you want me on your game hunt you’ll have to be more specific. I don’t like technicalities and all that screwing around, so cut the crap and give me information.”
“I can tell you some of the people you’ll be working with on this expedition,” Ludlow said quickly. “Roland Tembo the game hunter will be there, as will his associate Ajay Sidhu.”
“Tembo, eh? I’ve worked with him before. Good hunter.”
“If you agree, we’ll need you to fly up to our head offices in San Diego tomorrow morning. From there we will give you all the information you need to know.”
“What’s the pay?” Stark asked, skeptically.
Ludlow named a figure and Stark’s eyes widened. “Jesus, that is a lotta bounty, Mr. Ludlow. If that’s what I get, then count me in.”
“Great,” Ludlow laughed on the other end. “So you can get ready in time for tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Fantastic, Mr. Stark. I can’t wait to do business with you, and look forward to our meeting. Oh, and don’t bring any of your usual hunting equipment, we have all you need here.”
With that, Ludlow hung up.
2. SAN DIEGO
At 9:30 am Dieter Stark’s plane rolled onto the San Diego, California airport runway.
Stark stepped off the plane into the hot summer morning. Wearing a simple shirt and trousers to match, he had a small travel bag slung over his shoulder and wore dark sunglasses.
Dieter looked around as he made his way into the main lobby.
A bearded man in a suit approached Dieter.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said. He pulled a small photo of Stark out of his pocket, eyed it, moving his gaze from the picture to Dieter’s face.
“Are you Dieter Stark?” the man asked.
“Sure am”, Stark replied simply.
“I’m Gary Johnston from InGen,” he extended his hand, smiling. “Welcome to San Diego. I’m to take you to our headquarters.”
Stark shook the man’s hand. “Perhaps you can fill me in, what kinda game hunt is this? Why was Mr. Ludlow so cautious?”
Johnston grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Stark sighed in defeat. “Hey, wait a minute, would you ? I just wanna get a drink from the café.”
“Sure, Dieter,” Johnston said.
Stark moved through the people and made his way to the airport café. He picked up a small bottle of Evian and paid for it. He was putting the change in his wallet, and walking back to Johnston, when a youth of about nineteen snatched the wallet out of his hand and dashed through the crowd.
“Shit!”
Dieter took off after the young man. The thief was running towards the exit, shoving people out of the way as he went. Stark caught up to him relatively quickly, he grabbed the youth by the shoulder and slammed him up against the wall.
“Give it back, you little bastard,” Stark growled, he shoved his elbow up against the thief’s throat, pinning him.
The young man spluttered, gasping for air, absolute terror in his eyes.
“Here take it ! Jesus, let me go !”
Stark grabbed his wallet back, stuffing it into his trouser pocket. He released the youth, who bent over, heaving.
Dieter began to leave, when the young man said “you asshole.”
Without speaking, Stark turned around and viciously punched the youth in the face, sending him sprawling on the ground. By now, a large crowd was watching the spectacle, and a couple of security guards came forward.
“We saw the kid rob you, sir. But you shouldn’t have hit him. By law we have to ask him if he wishes to lay charges against you.”
The youth was lying on the ground, propped up on his elbow, nose bleeding. “No, no charges. Let it go.” He coughed painfully.
“Okay, you had better move along, sir,” one of the guards said to Dieter.
Stark glared at both security guards then walked back to Johnston, who was staring with his mouth open.
“That was incredible!” Johnston exclaimed. “Why did you go so hard on the kid?”
Stark shrugged. “It’s something I strongly believe in. I believe that what is mine is mine and nobody else’s.”
Johnston began walking outside. “Well let’s go, demolition man. Mr. Ludlow is eager to meet you.”
Johnston drove his grey Mercedes-Benz as Dieter Stark sat next to him.
“Sorry we had to call you out of South Africa on such short notice,” Johnston said apologetically.
Stark gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s okay. I had finished my assignment there, anyway.”
“Are you married?” Johnston asked.
Stark looked at him. “Nope. I don’t have the time for it. Time is money and it mustn’t be wasted. I married until about a year ago for seven months, then she left me. Told me I was an un-caring, selfish son of a bitch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Johnston said quickly.
Stark gave a mild chuckle. “Nah, it’s nothing. She was right.”
They drove in silence for a few moments then Johnston pointed. “Ah, there we are.”
Stark looked as they drove through an entrance gate and into the parking lot of the InGen complex. He saw a large building with the blue and white InGen logo on the side.
Johnston parked the car then turned to look at Stark. “Dieter, I have to tell you something. Please keep it confidential. We are actually suffering problems here.”
Stark raised an eyebrow. “Problems?”
“We’re just about bankrupt”, Johnston said quietly. “But Mr. Ludlow insists on behaving as it isn’t happening.”
“Should you really be spending money on a game hunt if you’re that hard up?” Stark asked.
“That game hunt,” Johnston said, “could just save our necks.”
3. INGEN
Dieter Stark left Johnston and began walking toward the entrance of the InGen building.
He still couldn’t help wondering just what the hell this was all about.
Stark noticed a man in a brown suit and glasses standing just outside the entrance staring at him, suddenly the man broke into a smile and began jogging toward him.
“Mr. Stark,” the man said in an English accent. “Glad you could come. I’m Peter Ludlow.”
“Hello,” Stark replied, shaking Ludlow’s hand.
“Come this way, Dieter,” Ludlow said. “I would love to give you a tour of our facilities, but we are a little pressed for time.”
“No problem.”
The two men entered the building and walked through the plush main administration area, where many men in suits bustled about.
Ludlow led Stark into a small room with five rows of blue chairs, and a large flat-screen monitor at the front.
Already seated was a bald man of muscular build, wearing khaki shirt and shorts, and an Indian man with short hair and wire frame glasses. Stark recognised these two men as Roland Tembo and Ajay Sidhu, renowned big game hunters.
A man with a thick red beard and long hair was also seated there too as were several other men whom Stark didn’t recognize.
Roland immediately stood and shook Dieter’s hand firmly. “Good to see you again, Dieter. I heard you were coming.”
Stark smiled blandly. “Likewise, Roland.”
Next, Ludlow introduced Stark to the bearded man, he was the paleontologist Dr. Robert Burke.
Stark disliked him onsite. He was puzzled as to what relevance a scientist such as Burke could possibly have on this expedition.
Ludlow then briefly introduced Dieter to the other men who were present all of whom were game hunters, but not as high profile as Stark, Roland or Ajay.
Ludlow moved to the front of the room and stood next to the monitor, as Stark took a seat next to Roland.
Ludlow cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice, gentlemen. I’m sure you are eager to find out the specifics of this expedition. If you have any questions, please ask later. Right now, I’ll fill you in with a lesson in InGen history. Back in the late 1980s, we developed an incredible technology which allowed us to do unprecedented things with genetic engineering, specifically cloning. By drawing out the blood from prehistoric mosquitoes, which had been preserved in tree amber for millions of years, we were able to clone extinct animals from the past.”
Ludlow paused dramatically. “Dinosaurs.”
Roland sat forward intently, Ajay nodded to himself as if he knew it already.
Stark burst out laughing. “Is this a joke?”
Ludlow smiled. “I thought you may see it that way. So I took the liberty of gathering some actual footage of our animals.”
Ludlow switched on the monitor and pressed play.
Stark stared at the screen carefully. He saw no dinosaurs, there was just an image of a grassy field and a few birds pecking the ground.
Then there was a snuffling sound, like a horse breathing. There were lots of shuffling noises in the background.
Stark turned to look at Ludlow, disgusted. He didn’t know what kind of elaborate hoax this was, but somebody sure as hell was going to suffer for it.
Suddenly, the hunters behind Dieter began to make slight gasping sounds. Stark looked at the monitor as a large animal slowly ambled into full view, shaking the camera as it went past. The scaly creature was the size of a small elephant, walking on four short legs with a plated face, and a large, horned crest protruding from it’s head. The animal was unmistakably a triceratops, Stark recalled from his childhood. The dinosaur moved casually a few feet, then bent to eat the grass. Now a second triceratops came into view to join the first. Then the screen went blank.
Ludlow was grinning like a little kid. “What do you think of our animals? Do you believe me now, Mr. Stark?”
Dieter was shocked into silence.
Roland said. “You can tell when something is just special effects, or men in suits. But unless techniques have improved drastically within the last few years, those things looked real to me. Too organic not to be”.
“I assure you” Ludlow said. “It is real.”
“Jesus,” somebody said from the back.
Ludlow chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “While you are all recovering, I will fill you in on the rest. When it was proven we could clone these animals, the former CEO of InGen, John Hammond, created an enormous tourist attraction called Jurassic Park, on an island off the coast of Costa Rica. He populated the facility with these dinosaurs and intended to open it to the public in late 1993. However, in the summer of that year, a group of scientists took a preview inspection of the park. Because of internal sabotage, the dinosaurs actually escaped from their enclosures during inspection. Many people died. The park was shut down before opening.
However, the scientists survived, and were sworn to nondisclosure agreements. Yet one of them broke the agreement, a mathematician named Ian Malcolm. He made several public statements, trying to alert the world to the park’s existence. Maybe some of you heard them?”
Stark shook his head. “I spend most of my time out on the field, hunting. I don’t pay any attention to the media.”
A hunter in the back row spoke up. “I remember Malcolm’s statements. Everybody said he was a nut.”
“Eventually people forgot about the story,” Ludlow continued. “Malcolm’s career was destroyed by his own hand. InGen suffered horrendous financial losses. However, there was one aspect of the spectacle that wasn’t revealed. Hammond actually created the dinosaurs on a second island not far from Jurassic Park. Here, he dealt with the gritty problems of cloning extinct animals such as disease, genetic anomalies, and the list goes on.
After the animals were successfully grown, they were shipped to Jurassic Park. Not long after the ’93 incident, a hurricane hit Isla Sorna, the second island. Our people were forced to abandon the facility and leave the dinosaurs there. And that is how they have remained for the last four years.”
The reaction was just as he thought it would be. Peter Ludlow watched as the seated men began talking loudly, excitedly. One hunter said “I never believed it was possible.”
“This could change the world as we know it,” another stated.
Robert Burke was just smiling to himself, writing down notes in a small pad, clearly eager to see more dinosaurs.
“Mr. Ludlow,” Roland called to Ludlow over the noise. “What exactly do you want us to do?”
The chattering immediately ceased, everyone stared at Ludlow intently.
He grinned. “I’m glad you asked, Roland. Before Hammond started work on the Jurassic Park island facility, he actually intended to showcase the animals in a huge amphitheater attraction, which he built not far from here. Yet he abandoned it in favor of the island. Personally, I find the amphitheater much more simple and workable. I want to finally populate it with dinosaurs and open it to the public, thereby exploiting our unique resources to their full potential and saving us financially.
“Tomorrow, we will leave via air travel to Isla Sorna, where you will put your skills to use by hunting down the dinosaurs and capturing them in specifically made vehicles. We will then ship them back here to San Diego to display them in the amphitheater.”
Ludlow paused. “If any of you wish to back out, now is the time.”
Stark snorted. “With that kind of paycheck at stake? Are you kidding? I’m on board.”
All the other heads in the room nodded with Dieter.
Ludlow clapped his hands together. “Great! Now if you’ll just follow me outside, we will make a trip over to the InGen airfield, which is not far from here.”
Peter Ludlow and the hunters traveled to the airfield in a small, bus-like vehicle. When they arrived, Ludlow led everyone onto the tarmac, where there were a large number of big military choppers and jeep wranglers. Many men were hurrying about, loading the wranglers onto various choppers, along with assorted high-tech equipment.
Dieter Stark felt beads of perspiration form on his face from the glaring midday sun. He pulled out his sunglasses and popped them on.
“These are the helicopters we will all be travelling in,” Ludlow shouted above the noise of the men loading. He walked over to one of the copters. “Dieter, we want you to fly in this one. It will only be carrying you, a pilot, and some vital equipment. Come straight to this chopper tomorrow morning.”
Stark nodded.
Ludlow then designated each man a copter in which they would travel. Many times, he assigned more than one man per chopper.
Ludlow pointed across the road to a large hotel overlooking the airfield.
“All of you will be staying in that hotel until tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about fees we have taken care of everything. You’ll be shown how to use the jeep wranglers when we arrive. Any questions? No? Okay, get a good night’s rest and be at the airfield by six tomorrow morning. Thanks, gentlemen.”
“I wanted a quick word with you, Peter,” Roland said, when everyone else had left.
“Sure, Roland,” Ludlow smiled. “What’s on your mind?”
“I have been hunting professionally for nearly twenty five years,” Roland said, straight-faced. “I have caught and shot every type of game imaginable. For me, the challenge is gone. It has become all too easy. To tell you the truth, I was seriously contemplating retirement. However, this expedition provides me with a fresh goal, a new challenge.”
“What are you trying to say?” Ludlow asked, carefully.
“I will do this whole damn thing for free, Peter. Money means nothing to me. You can keep my paycheck to buy yourself extra bottles of scotch, or another Italian suit, or whatever you please, as long as I can have the right to track and kill a male tyrannosaurus rex.”
Ludlow just stared at Roland for a long moment.
Then he grinned. “It’s a deal Roland.”
4. VISIT
Dieter Stark looked around his hotel room. It was very plush, with a spa bath and a mini-bar. Stark flopped on the bed, and picked up a newspaper that was sitting on the bedside table. The headlines were two weeks old, but he started reading it anyway.
Dieter was still hesitant about the whole situation. He didn’t really know what to expect. Was it all a wild goose chase? He decided he just didn’t care, the money he was getting made up for the possibility it was a hoax, and –
There was a knock at the door.
Stark got up and opened it. To his surprise, there were four people standing there. Three men and a young woman.
“Are you Mr. Dieter Stark?” one of the men asked.
“One and the same,” Dieter replied warily.
The man shook Stark’s hand. “I’m Dr. David Richards. I’m a paleontologist. May we come in for a second?”
“Sure,” Stark answered, not really sure of what to do.
Richards said, “We have a lot to tell you so we’ll get right into it. We heard that yourself and a team from InGen are going to round up some…dinosaurs.”
Stark showed no emotion, holding back his shock. “What makes you think that?”
“Ever since the Ian Malcolm statements, a select group of scientists and institutions have been keeping a close eye on the activities of the InGen corporation. We have sources everywhere. We know all their moves.”
“Alright,” Stark shrugged. “I admit it’s true. What interest do you have in it?”
“What interest?” Richards gaped. “This is any paleontologist’s dream. What we are asking you to do is sneak us on board one of the helicopters to Isla Sorna, where we will carry on with our own research, sneaking back on board when your team returns.”
Normally, Stark would have told this overly confident man to go to hell. But Richards’ frankness about the situation amused him.“Why do you want to go to all that trouble? Why didn’t you conduct your own expedition before ours?”
“Are you kidding?,” Richards said with the impatient tone of an academic. “Sorna is private property. If it leaked out that we were there without official permission, our professional careers would be finished. Believe us, we are legitimate. All our institutes have given us the go ahead.”
Stark looked past Richards, at the three people standing nervously behind the talkative paleontologist.
“Who are the others?”
Richards indicated to one of the men. “This is Kevin Taylor, a field equipment expert.”
Taylor smiled. “Hello.”
“In case our equipment breaks down, we need someone who can fix it.”
Taylor was a muscularly-built man with a stubble of a beard and graying hair.
He looked in his late forties.
“This is Dr. Peter Evans,” Richards said, motioning to a man who appeared in his thirties, a trim person with short brown hair.
“I’m a geologist,” Evans said. “My job will be to determine how the structure of the earth is affected by the dinosaurs.”
Stark turned to the young woman, looked her up and down, noticing how attractive she was. “What does she do?”
“I’m Dr. Sophie Simpson. I’m a biologist. I am to calculate the interactions between these extinct creatures and the plants and animals of the modern world. And also work out how they survive without the intervention of man.”
Simpson was twenty-five years of age, graduating in biology at Yale two years earlier. She had blue eyes, and her blonde hair went just below her shoulders. She wore a pink, sleeveless top and blue skirt.
“Why don’t you just wait?” Stark suggested. “When the amphitheater opens, the whole world will know about the dinosaurs soon enough.”
“Exactly,” Richards said. “Once the world knows, every scientist you can imagine will be onto them. But if we get in on the act now, out research will be in the history books first.”
“I see,” Stark mused. “What I don’t see is why I should stick my neck out for you.”
Richards held a cheque out to Stark. “That is why.”
Dieter read the enormous sum printed on the cheque, his name was already written on it.
“If you help us,” Richards said, “I will sign the check right now. No strings attached.”
Stark smiled blandly. “You know the way to a man’s heart. Okay, I’ll sneak you on.”
Richards clasped him on the shoulder. “Thanks very much, Dieter. Once we’re on the island, we’ll go off to do our own stuff and won’t go near your team.”
Stark walked to the window, overlooking the airfield.
“See that chopper right there?” he pointed. “That is the one I’ll be flying in. Before six tomorrow morning, I’ll meet you down there and get you on board.”
“Modern science owes you eternal gratitude,” Richards said, grinning broadly. “We really appreciate this.”
“Yeah, so does my wallet,” Stark chuckled. “Just make sure you keep yourselves out of sight, ‘cause I’m not taking the rap for you.”
“We will,” Richards said. “Don’t worry.”
The visitors said goodbye and left.
Stark sat alone in his room going over what had just transpired. It had happened so quickly. He was thinking of how much like a car salesman Richards was. The fast-talking, overly enthusiastic type. He wondered if helping them was even legal. Still, it made no difference to him. He was getting his money, and that was all that mattered.
All of a sudden, he felt a seeping fatigue overtake him.
Stark lay on the bed, closed his eyes, and slept.
5. TRAVIS
Raising the champagne glass to his lips for a little taste, Daniel Travis stared at the menu in front of him. He was sitting alone at a small table in Broughtons, one of the largest, most expensive, exclusive restaurants in Chicago. Very modern and stylish in design, this was Travis’ favorite place to eat out.
Waiters were bustling about efficiently, as well-dressed customers continued to arrive.
He glanced at his gold Omega watch, 7:20 pm.
Travis signaled a passing waiter and ordered two plates of smoked salmon. He was meeting somebody for dinner at 7:30, but Travis had been there since 7. He always made a point of being extremely early whenever he had an appointment. It let the other person know that he was always one step ahead of them.
Travis smiled to himself. It was a little trick that always worked.
Daniel Travis wore a grey, neatly pressed, Armani business suit. He had short black hair, and clearly defined facial features. Thirty-five years old, he loved giving the impression of pure class and distinction.
Having achieved a Ph.D. in Molecular Genetics and Cell Biology, he had gone on to complete a post doctoral position at Harvard Medical School.
Travis was now co-director of the internationally acclaimed BioMedical Research Center of Chicago, inheriting the position from his father, Sam, who had retired two years earlier.
The name of professor Sam Travis was revered in the scientific community. His breakthrough research into molecular biology had saved many lives, and eliminated numerous technical obstacles which were previously deemed insurmountable.
In a 1985 article for TIME magazine, a colleague had stated that Sam was “selfless, humble, honest, caring, and motivated to succeed in the work he loves. He’s the kind of person we all aspire to be, but most of us don’t get there.”
The qualities that Travis Senior was so beloved for, some would say his son possessed none of them.
Daniel Travis had gained the nickname of “Doc Hollywood,” for the showman-like way he handled his public image and conducted business. He liked to consider himself a celebrity, and often arranged to make appearances on entertainment variety programs. His recent stint on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, sparked particular controversy.
Older members of the Research Center considered Travis obnoxious and false. Somebody who was eager to probe into the natural world in order to cause sensation, rather than actually caring about meaningful, necessary discoveries.
“Medical science controls the world,” he famously once said. “Medical science is the world. Quite frankly, scientists are as close to God as you’re likely to see.”
Travis was also widely thought to be using the other co-director of the Center, Steven Dunn, as a puppet. Manipulating him to do whatever was asked, and agree with whatever he said. There had even been rumor that Sam Travis, now sixty, frequently argued with his son about the way he was running things, but nobody knew for sure.
Nevertheless, many of the younger members of the Center were starting to like Daniel Travis. They saw him as hip and contemporary; in tune with a more edgier, invasive attitude of modern science. An attitude that, slowly but surely, was becoming the norm.
The person Travis was meeting walked through the entrance.
It was the other co-director of the Research Center, Steven Dunn.
Travis looked at his watch, 7:29 p.m. Right on time, just as he had predicted. He observed silently, as Dunn straightened his tie, anxiously, and started to come toward him.
Dunn was a thin, grey-haired man of fifty-six. His face appeared worn, worry lines creased his forehead. But his eyes were wide, constantly darting about, as if he were guilty about something.
Travis smiled indulgently; Dunn was visibly nervous, and he wanted it that way.
“Good evening, Steve. Terrific of you to come.”
Travis shook hands with Dunn, as the older man sat down at the table.
“Hello, Dan,” Dunn said. He waved his arms at the surroundings. “I appreciate you buying me dinner in a place as expensive as Broughtons, but you really didn’t need to do this.”
“Yes, I did,” Travis replied cheerfully. “I’m having a business meeting with a very important associate. I think that requires only the best.”
The waiter brought them their meal.
“Tell me, Steve,” Travis said, as he began to eat, “did your daughter make it into university?”
Dunn blinked. “Oh, yes. Jessica was accepted. They were very impressed, actually. She’s pretty excited.”
“Marvelous. I can imagine how happy she would be,” Travis chewed, swallowed. “Have you and Sandra decided on a new car yet?”
“No. We’re still looking.” Dunn quickly ran a hand through his unkempt hair, and awkwardly poked at his food.
“You seem a bit on edge,” Travis said. “Anything wrong?”
Dunn peered at him, intently. “Perhaps we could start discussing the reason we’re having this meeting in the first place?”
“Oh, that,” Travis grinned. “It’s gonna be fine. Personally, I’m extremely excited.”
“So, you’re really going ahead with this thing,” Dunn said.
“Absolutely,” Travis’ face turned serious. “We’ve already waited too long. My source tells me that Ludlow is making a full-scale expedition to Isla Sorna tomorrow. We have to act right now, or miss out on the chance to exploit the embryos before they become commonplace.”
Dunn was shaking his head. “I still think it’s just too risky. Too dangerous. What if you have problems with the, uh, animals?”
“I couldn’t care less about that,” Travis said. “I’m going to get the embryos whatever happens. I have to. Don’t you understand, Steve? We need this.”
Dunn said nothing.
Travis took a mouthful of salmon. “It could revolutionize medical science forever. Just imagine if there is some chemical contained in prehistoric embryos that destroys cancer, huh? Or Parkinson’s disease? What if it makes the incurable curable? And we would be the first institution to develop it for the public. The fact is, dinosaur embryos are an untested substance. Nobody’s actually gone over them to see what beneficial properties they may have.”
Dunn fidgeted with his napkin, “I don’t know, Dan. It just seems like we’re screwing with something that’s really beyond our understanding. I mean, by all rights and purposes, human beings shouldn’t even be on the same earth as dinosaurs. Maybe this is something that’s better off left alone.”
“You’re missing the point here.” Travis leaned closer to Dunn, speaking severely. “The point is; the possibility of something medically useful is there. That means, if we don’t capitalize on the possibility immediately, some other doctors will. I don’t want that to happen, Steve. The aim of the game is to be first. I don’t care if elements in dinosaur embryos lead to a cure for cancer, or instant pimple cream. It just doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we get it out to the public before anyone else.”
He sat back and stared at Dunn, who appeared to be seriously contemplating Travis’s words, his brow creased in concentration.
“How will you know where on the island the embryos are?” Dunn finally spoke. “Maybe they’ve all been cleared out?”
Travis reached down to a leather briefcase that was beside his chair. He clicked it open, pulling out a large sheet of paper. He looked around briefly, making sure nobody was watching, then placed the sheet on the table.
Dunn’s eyes widened. It was an extremely detailed map of Isla Sorna, highlighting all the various InGen constructions on the island.
“Jesus Christ,” Dunn breathed. “Where did you get this?”
“My reliable source arranged to get a copy for me,” Travis said. “He’s actually a disgruntled employee of InGen. This is the same guy that confirmed to me Ian Malcolm was telling the truth, the dinosaur rumors were all true. He was very willing to tell me everything.” Travis laughed. “After all, with InGen battling bankruptcy, what sane employee would resist the temptation of a little extra cash?”
Dunn was speechless.
“This is the interesting part,” Travis continued. “It turns out old John Hammond was an even slyer codger than we thought. He was so paranoid about somebody stealing his embryos, that the stocks he kept in the visitor center on Isla Nublar, and in the laboratory on Isla Sorna, were all fake. The whole kit and kaboodle, worthless. The real embryos were actually kept in three secret storage facilities, placed in separate locations on Isla Sorna.” Traivs pointed on the map. “Only Hammond and a few of his most trusted employees knew about this, one of which was his chief geneticist, Henry Wu, who was responsible for regularly transferring the embryos from the storage facilities to the laboratory. Cunning, huh?”
“That’s incredible.” Dunn sliced a piece of salmon with a silver knife, and popped it into his mouth.
“And you’re right in a way, Steve,” Travis said. “all the fake embryos were cleared out by InGen when their operations shut down. But since Hammond wanted to keep his little secrets, I’m betting the real embryos are still there, untouched. What I need to do is get into just one of those storage facilities, and we’ll have all the research samples we need.
And don’t worry about dinosaurs, I’m taking a protector along with me, an ex-marine. Regardless, I won’t be on the island long enough for anything to go wrong, it’ll be a breeze. How smart can dinosaurs be, anyway?"
“Alright, you win.” Dunn nodded in resignation. “You seem to know exactly what you’re doing, and I agree this is an opportunity too good to miss out on.”
Travis finished his meal, picked up a napkin, and patted his lips.
“Thank you, Steve. I knew I could count on your support.”
10/23/2002 10:58:23 PM
(Updated: 10/23/2002 11:18:58 PM)
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(Updated: 10/23/2002 11:22:48 PM)
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(Updated: 6/3/2005 11:44:48 PM)
(Updated: 6/3/2005 11:47:09 PM)
(Updated: 7/15/2005 9:27:42 PM)
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