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Jurassic Park: X-Factor (Chapter Three - Connections)
By drucifer67
Jurassic Park: X Factor
Chapter Three – Connections
“I need you to make some connections,” Ian told the cab driver.
“As always, you’re as subtle as a Panzer division,” the young cabbie answered. “No small talk, no how’s-the-wife-and-kids, just straight to business. Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”
“I’m in a bit of a rush,” Ian answered apologetically.
“Ah, I see. So what kind of connections do you imagine I can make for you? What makes you think I’m the guy to see on this?”
“Oh, you, you’re the guy for this one, ah, Jake, this is, this is your sort of thing.”
“Alright, you got my curiosity up. Let me park this thing and we’ll talk.”
Jake made a right turn at the next light, then abruptly swung left into an alley. He pulled up alongside the graffiti-covered brick, almost close enough to take the paint off the side of his cab. He rolled along that way before coming to a sudden stop. He threw open his door and got out, and Malcolm followed.
Jake leaned up against the hood of the cab. Malcolm was taken with how much the younger man had changed in the year or so since they had seen each other. He was tall, almost as tall as Ian, but today he looked smaller, and too thin. He wore his dark blonde hair long now, in a ponytail, and a day’s growth of stubble shadowed his chin. Ian surmised that there was much going on in the life of Jake Malloy. Probably more than Jake would ever tell, and certainly more than Ian would want to know.
“Meter’s running, Ian.”
“Right…listen, Jake…ah, I know, I know you’re trying to keep, ah, a low profile…”
“Look, Ian, let’s cut to the chase. You’re here for something I may or may not be able to give you. You came here based on what you knew about me a year ago—and believe it or not, I’ve changed. A lot. I don’t handle some of that stuff anymore. The drugs, for one, I won’t connect anybody with drugs. It’s too messy, it’s too dangerous. It used to be okay, but now you got the damn Puerto Ricans running everything, they like to kill people. I’m not into that. I still got some legitimate connections with some legitimate businessmen, but I don’t do ninety-five percent of the stuff I used to do.”
“I need a handful of men who like to kill things,” Ian said simply.
“Hit squad?”
“No, no, not a few, ah, a few gangsters with miniature machine guns, ah, not like that. I’m looking for the underground militant group type. Trained for guerilla action, and, ah, jungle warfare. That sort of thing.”
“Soldier of Fortune stuff,” Jake offered.
“Exactly,” Ian answered. “Guns for hire…ah, big, BIG, guns.”
“Who you gonna kill?”
“It’s not a who. Do you know anyone, ah, like we’re talking about?”
Jake reached into his shirt pocket and produced a cigarette and a business card. He offered the latter to Malcolm and stuck the former into the corner of his mouth all in one motion.
“That’s my cell phone. Call me around this time tomorrow.”
“You’ll have someone by then?”
“I’ll have an answer by then, Ian…good or bad. But they’re gonna want to know what the job is.”
“The job, ah…the job is, ah…Isla Sorna.”
“Isla whatta? Holy shit, you mean the dinosaur island? You’re going back there, after what happened before? After Sarah and San Diego?”
“No, no, no…ah…I’m not going anywhere. I’m organizing this for ah, a friend in need, shall we say.”
“I can hook you up with some guys who fly, and we can get some Napalm, if you wanna do this thing up right,” Jake offered.
“Ah, no, no, this is, ah, this is something of a rescue operation, ah, Jake…an old friend. Old friends.”
“Call me tomorrow, Ian. I think I got your guy.”
“Do you really think Dr. Malcolm can do what he says he can do, Dr. Grant?” They were riding in a rented car, and Alan found himself wishing for the comforts of his old truck.
Grant shrugged. “I suppose he can. From what I understand, he’s…connected to some, shall we say, interesting people.”
“Shouldn’t he be looking for dinosaur experts? I mean instead of guerillas?”
“We have a dinosaur expert,” Grant replied. “Not that it matters, really. Those animals are—“
“I know, I know, genetic mutations, nothing like the real thing, abominations to God, I’ve heard it all. But how can you know they’re not like the real thing? I mean, dinosaurs lived millions of years ago…it’s hard to believe we could be sure they’re not authentic.”
“They’re different in some ways,” Grant answered. “We’re certain of that, because the geneticists used amphibian DNA to fill in the gaps in the gene sequence.”
“So they’re not a hundred percent perfect, but couldn’t they still be damn close?”
“I suppose I’d have to concede that they’re close enough. Tyrannosaur’s visual acuity proved to be just as many experts had theorized. And the velociraptors responded to calls from the resonating chamber mockup, as well. There’s just no way of knowing what differences may exist as a result of the tampered DNA.”
“The InGen team probably know,” Lex offered.
“More than anyone else, I suppose.”
“Do you think they might know what the ‘X-factor’ is all about?”
Grant looked at her for a long moment. “I think they probably would,” he answered at last.
----
“Codswallop!” Hammond pronounced. “That’s what your X-Factor is, Dr. Grant. Complete and total nonsense.”
They were in Hammond’s den, and Alan couldn’t help but feel somewhat surrounded. The furnishings were oversized and imposing, and there were trinkets and artifacts from all over the world. The African piece nearest Grant’s seat looked as though it may have cost more than he earned in three years’ time.
“But Grandpa,” Lex argued, “if there’s no X-factor, if it’s all nonsense, then why did the U.S. and Costa Rica send in a study team?”
“I don’t know, but you can be assured they’re trying to cash in on our success, in some way or another, you mark my words.”
“Success, Mr. Hammond?”
Hammond froze. He gave Grant a measured look, then continued. “We did what no one else could, and there have been others who have tried. BioSyn Corporation has been trying to ride our coattails, but even with InGen paving the way, they have failed time and time again.”
“I still don’t see what InGen created as a success,” Grant continued carefully. “The dinosaurs may or may not be accurate recreations—“
“How inaccurate would you say they are, Dr. Grant? The animals on Isla Sorna have been observed in the wild, you know, and much of their behavior is exactly as paleontologists theorized. They are thriving! An ecosystem unlike any other, extinct but brought back by the miracle of science, exists on that island, and the animals are thriving!
Now, as we all know, Dr. Grant, nature sometimes makes mistakes. Genetically imperfect creatures, mutations, are born in the wild every day. Now, what happens to those animals? The overwhelming majority of those mutations are sterile, unable to reproduce, because nature won’t allow those abominations to persist past the first generation. Do you agree?”
Alan nodded reluctantly.
“And wouldn’t you also agree that a genetic mutation, by its very nature, shows signs of being mutated? Physical disfigurement is very, very common in nature’s errors.”
“Not necessarily,” Grant argued. “Often genetic errors are not readily apparent, and in some cases only a thorough postmortem examination reveals flaws in the genetic makeup.”
But Hammond dismissed Alan with a wave of his hand. “Sometimes, sometimes, of course. But if all the animals on Isla Sorna are, as you assert, mutations, wouldn’t at least some of them show physical signs of genetic flaw?”
“Presumably,” Grant concurred.
Hammond leaned in close and spoke in a conspiratorial tone: “We have recreated the living inhabitants of the most fascinating period in the entire history of the earth, and you have borne witness to those recreations. Of course it’s overwhelming, Dr. Grant, but you mustn’t dismiss it out of hand simply because the existence of those animals makes you feel professionally threatened.”
“No, Mr. Hammond,” Grant retorted, barely managing his temper, “It’s not the professional threat that concerns me. There is a very real danger in the sort of tampering InGen did on those islands. I hate to agree with Ian Malcolm about anything, but—“
“Malcolm,” Hammond cut in, “was right about a great many things. He once said ‘Life finds a way’, and it did. But the animals are isolated now—isolated in their own island world. They are no threat to man whatsoever.”
“Actually, they are,” Lex interrupted. “They’re a threat to anyone who goes to Isla Sorna. Anyone who stumbles on to the island by mistake…or goes there at the request of the government to study the dinosaurs.”
“Anyone who sets foot on Isla Sorna knows what they’re getting into,” Hammond reasoned. “It’s not as though we’ve turned the animals out on the general public.”
“Which brings us to the point of this visit,” Grant spoke up.
Hammond waited, expressionless.
“The expedition to Isla Sorna was supposed to be a brief scientific study, and the team was supposed to be extracted several weeks ago. They weren’t.”
Hammond looked from Lex to Alan and back, nonplussed.
“Grandpa,” Lex said softly, “One of the team members…was Tim.”
12/28/2002 3:39:53 PM
(Updated: 1/15/2003 12:57:16 PM)
(Updated: 1/15/2003 3:45:19 PM)
(Updated: 2/11/2003 3:12:24 AM)
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