by Kathryn Hoff
“I helped her get her doctorate,” Anjou said gloomily. The lawyer flashed him a warning glance. Right, don’t volunteer.
“Once she latched on to you,” the interviewer said, “she had an entree into all those conferences. Nikodim Zhurov was one of her contacts—he’s been on the CIA’s radar for a while, and it was her continuing communication with him that made them alert us. Zhurov made it a priority to get mature mammoths into Russia. I gather the genes aren’t the problem, it’s growing an actual baby that’s hard?”
Anjou bridled. “The genes are critical. But,” he deflated a bit, “yes, the gestation and integration into a herd structure are crucial for survival.” No wonder Zhurov had made so much progress on the genetics—Ginger must have fed him scraps of Anjou’s research.
The FBI man took off his reading glasses and absently tapped the earpiece on the table. “What I don’t understand is why you and she dropped out of sight all of a sudden. Frankly, if you hadn’t come forward when you did and volunteered to wear a wire at the handoff, we would be having a very different conversation right now—with you in handcuffs.”
“Drop out of sight?” Anjou glanced at the lawyer. She gave a nod, setting her looped earrings swinging. “That wasn’t our intention—at least not my intention. The herd had been deployed, and we were thinking of moving to a larger facility. It seemed a natural time to give our staff some time off and to take a bit of a vacation. I’ll admit I was surprised when Ginger insisted on a cabin near the sea.”
He should have figured it out then—she’d already moved Silver and Gold to the coast, along with their expensive government-purchased equipment, all nicely packaged in shipping containers ready to be carried across the Bering Strait to Russia. Getting Anjou to go along was just a bonus.
“It was only after we reached the cabin,” he said, “that she came to me with a story about being in danger of arrest for lying to immigration and tried to persuade me to go with her to Russia. I’m afraid she almost had me convinced that I was about to be arrested with her. Er, was there an arrest warrant?”
“No,” the interviewer said. “Just a ‘be-on-the-lookout.’ When the army reported that you’d disappeared so suddenly and we realized you were in the company of a suspected spy, it raised alarm bells.”
“I see.” God, he was a fool for believing her. “Well, I played along, but as soon as I could get away for a few minutes, I called the nearest FBI office.”
The agent looked up. “She says Russia was your idea. That you were so upset at the government cancelling your grant that you were ready to defect.”
Anjou bridled. “I’m a loyal American. Take my science to another country? I’m ashamed she even thought it possible.” In that, he was perfectly sincere. Living in Alaska was bad enough, but even prison would be better than Siberia—in prison, there’s the possibility of parole. “We knew there were questions about whether the grant would be renewed, but I was confident that environmental necessity would outweigh any political concerns.”
“Even if the government had decided to destroy your life’s work?”
Anjou shrugged. “If I had known about it, I would have been flying to Washington to talk to my congressional representatives, not going on vacation in the backwoods.”
“Hmm.” The agent turned a page. “Dr. Kim also claims you were inflating the underlying contracts and pocketing the proceeds yourself.”
The lying little minx. At his lawyer’s warning glance, Anjou got himself under control. “I’m afraid I trusted Ginger completely. By all means, look into the bookkeeping.” He leaned forward, putting all the sincerity he had into his voice. “I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do. My work is more important than a mere job. It’s vital to the future of the planet. No amount of money is worth jeopardizing that.”
The interviewer shrugged and closed the file. “Well, it looks like your work will go on now, even if you’re not heading it up any longer.”
He slid across a tabloid newspaper. The headline blared: Rescued by Mammoths! A grainy cell-phone-proportioned photo showed a large, furry mass with unlikely-looking tusks. The inset photo was of a grinning teenager wearing a Save the Mammoths tee shirt.
Among the smaller headlines: Celebrity Orgy! More Evidence of Bigfoot! Russian Spy Ring Captured! Could Mount Taktuq Erupt Again? Lose 30 Pounds in a Weekend!
Anjou sniffed. “That isn’t the sort of publicity a serious scientist wants. Still, if it persuades the public that the threat of permafrost loss is real, then something good may come of it.”
With Ginger being held without bond, Anjou under investigation, and the books being scrutinized, Project Hannibal no longer existed. Anjou wasn’t too worried—after all, he was the victim here, a dedicated scientist taken advantage of by an insidious foreign conspiracy. He could play that role in his sleep—emphasizing to everyone that his only concern was for the environment and begging the public to ensure that the mammoths be allowed to remain free to do their part. His lawyer was already vetting the requests for talk-show interviews.
At least the mammoths were safe—that part of Ginger’s scheme had worked perfectly. With all the publicity, the administration in Washington had switched gears to promote itself as the savior of mammoths and had officially placed Anjou’s creations under the protection of the US Fish and Wildlife Service.
Anjou might be temporarily under a cloud because he’d been taken in by a Russian spy, but that would blow over. There was still no one else in the world who could produce a living mammoth out of scraps of DNA. And if he could produce a mammoth, why not an extinct Irish elk? A Tasmanian tiger?
After all, it was always wise to have a backup plan.
CHAPTER 43
Reunion
In a tundra meadow some hundred miles north of the place where they’d crashed, Sera bounced up to Estelle. “Do I look all right?”
Laughing, Estelle wiped a smudge from Sera’s face and tucked a few stray hairs back into her braids. “You look wonderful, chérie.”
She did, too. Dirty jeans, hiking boots, and bright yellow Save the Mammoths sweatshirt—but the joy in Sera’s face lit up Estelle’s world.
Sera bit her lip. “I wish Annie were here.”
Estelle laughed. “Now that she’s back in Rainbow, I don’t think she’ll ever leave again. She says she’s too busy, working in her garden, smoking fish, and looking after baby Rufus.”
It was July, only four weeks after what the news channels called the “miracle mammoth rescue.”
The media had pounced on the story like a cat on a laser dot. Alerted by Luis Cortez, the reporters had been waiting for the helicopter at the Fairbanks airport with dozens of cameras and microphones. While Estelle transferred Annie and Major Butterick to medical care, Luis had let Sera take the spotlight, gushing thanks to everyone who had participated in the rescue.
When the reporters had asked about the mammoths, Luis had provided pithy explanations and deferred all science questions to the geneticist he worked for. He’d downplayed Major Butterick’s shoot-to-kill mission, saying only that the military was involved in all aspects of Project Hannibal.
“It’s unfortunate the major was injured during the rescue,” he’d added. “The real hero here is State Wildlife Trooper Robbie Kanut. His courage and inventiveness made the rescue possible.”
Within hours, all the national and even international media had broadcast photos lifted from Sera’s phone. The story was only enhanced by the news that a Russian spy had attempted to steal two of the precious mammoths.
With all the publicity and a surge of national pride—and perhaps to avoid the revelation of embarrassing details—the administration in Washington had declared themselves solidly in support of reviving mammoths. Mammoths were named the US national mammal, their image to be placed on newly minted quarters. Canada declared their border open to mammoths. Donations for the brand-new Save the Mammoths Foundation, chaired by Luis with Estelle, Sera, and Annie as honorary co-
chairs, had come pouring in.
And now, pregnant mammoths Silver and Gold had been airlifted to the tundra meadow where they were momentarily expected to be rejoined with the rest of the herd. And two hundred yards away, Luis, Sera, and Estelle and a host of cameras were waiting to film the reunion in a new documentary about the mammoths.
“I’m so excited,” Sera told the rolling cameras. “Silver and Gold have been grazing here since yesterday. After they were first released from the transport container, they were quite agitated, but they seem to have calmed down now.” Estelle marveled at how easily Sera spoke, already an old hand at interviews.
Sera glanced over her shoulder as a camera zoomed in on Gold nuzzling Silver. Long fur, humped shoulders, furred trunks, and upturned tusks filled the monitor. “They were separated from the other mammoths weeks ago, as part of a bizarre scheme to steal them and send them to Russia. But now, they’re just minutes away from rejoining their herd—their family. From the transponders that the adult mammoths are tagged with, we know the herd is close, but we don’t know . . . that is . . .” She gulped. “We don’t know yet whether the baby I watched being born a month ago is still with them.”
A few yards away, Luis looked up from his new laptop and spoke to the director. “Tell the cameras to get ready. The herd’s just on the other side of the ridge.”
As if they’d heard him, Silver and Gold raised their heads. Two trunks poked upward.
The director whispered into his mike. “They’re coming. Everybody on their toes.”
Cameras panned the northeast ridge—except for one that kept focus on Sera’s face. Eyes shining, lower lip caught under her teeth, she clasped her hands as if in prayer.
Estelle added her own silent petition. Please, Lord, for Sera—one more miracle. Let baby Jade be all right.
A dark lump appeared on the horizon, then another and another. The mammoth herd came into view, massive heads nodding with each swaying step.
The herd leader paused, trunk raised into a question mark.
Sera covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes glistening on the verge of tears. Estelle put an arm over her shoulders.
Trumpeting like buglers on a binge, the mammoths rushed down the hill. They greeted Silver and Gold with squeals and snorts, twining trunks together in joyful reunion.
Sera stood on tiptoe, straining to see more.
“There!” she whispered. A mother mammoth topped the ridge and sedately followed the others, a miniature mammoth right behind. Cameras whirred to focus on the little one’s fuzzy face and flopping trunk.
Sera wiped away tears. “She’s all right! Little Jade! She made it!” She threw her arms around Estelle’s neck, sobbing into her shoulder.
“It’s all right now,” Estelle soothed. At her sharp glance, the videographer turned the camera away. “She’s got her mama to look after her, and the whole herd, too.” And you’ve got me to look after you.
Luis glanced at the blips on the laptop and nudged the director. “Keep a camera on the ridge—Diamond’s coming.”
The bull paused at the top of the hill, taller, hairier, more menacing. The videographer caught his breath, zooming in to catch the mammoth’s glinting eye and the elegantly curving tusks. He stood silhouetted against the sky, putting a hundred years of museum reconstructions to shame. Here was the real thing—living, breathing, and commanding respect.
A loner, Estelle thought. Not quite part of the herd, but always nearby if needed. Kind of like Luis. In the last few weeks, she’d grown to appreciate the taciturn man in his dedication to the mammoths’ welfare.
In the meadow, the herd was together again, reassuring one another with puffs and pats of the trunk. So far, they’d largely ignored the people and recording equipment, but then the matriarch raised a curious trunk in their direction.
She took three steps toward them and stopped, emitting a low rumbling growl.
Luis’s face lightened with a rare smile. “Hey there, Ruby.”
Estelle chuckled to herself. He’s never that happy to see people.
Ignoring the director’s frantic gestures, Luis strode toward the mammoth.
“Get that,” the director whispered. The videographer nodded, the camera rolling.
The mammoth matriarch met him halfway, caressing him with her trunk. After a few moments, the mammoth snorted, her eyes on the crowd of human strangers. With a final trunk pat, she turned and strode toward the eastern ridge, rumbling a call.
One by one, the mammoths fell into line behind her, Silver and Gold now solidly part of the herd, Opal and little Jade bringing up the rear.
Luis remained where he was, gazing after them.
As the last mammoth passed out of view, the director sighed. “That’s a wrap, everyone. Well done!”
As Luis returned to the group, Sera gave him a hug. “They’ll be all right now, won’t they?”
Luis exchanged a glance with Estelle.
“That’s up to us,” he said. “All of us.”
The End
Author’s note
If you enjoyed Project Hannibal, please, please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads or your favorite site.
Like all science fiction, Project Hannibal is a mix of fantasy and reality. Here is some of the reality:
Depression
Depression isn’t a bad mood or a sign of weakness, it’s a serious medical condition that affects many, many people at some point in their lives.
In clinical depression, the body chemistry goes haywire, suppressing the feelings of hope and joy that most people take for granted. Depression doesn’t respond to logic. No amount of looking on the bright side, counting blessings, or being told to “cheer up” can break the depressed person’s cycle of unproductive thoughts and feelings that life will never get better.
Life will get better, but it may take time. Counseling and medication can help.
If you or a loved one is depressed, help is available.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:
In the US, dial 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255) (or, beginning July 2022, dial 988)
National Alliance on Mental Illness: https://www.nami.org/
WebMD: https://www.webmd.com/depression/
Anxiety and Depression Association of America: https://adaa.org/
For an online depression screening tool: https://screening.mhanational.org/screening-tools/depression
The role of permafrost in climate change
The Arctic is one of the largest carbon sinks in the world, trapping 1,400 gigatons of carbon in the permafrost—about twice the amount of carbon currently contained in Earth’s atmosphere. Thawing the permafrost will release the greenhouse gases methane and carbon dioxide, with a cascade effect on the acceleration of planetary warming. It’s no exaggeration to say that protecting the permafrost is vital to human survival on Earth.
Mammoths
Most people imagine all mammoths were huge. The Columbian mammoth truly was: thirteen feet at the shoulder and weighing a massive eight to ten tons (for comparison, a male African elephant tops out at six to seven tons). The Columbian mammoth had a bare hide like modern elephants and lived in temperate and tropical areas of North America.
The iconic woolly mammoth that is the subject of Project Hannibal was the size of modern elephants. They roamed the fringes of glaciated areas in the northern hemisphere. A few island-living mammoths developed into dwarfed varieties—some no bigger than sheep.
Most mammoths died out 10,000 years ago, although a few pockets survived until the relatively recent four to six thousand years ago. It is likely that changing climate and predation by humans contributed to their extinction.
Resurrecting mammoths
Mammoths are unique among the iconic extinct mammals in part because we have a wealth of biological material from mammoth carcasses that have been encased in Arctic ice since the last ice age. Efforts are underway to reconstruct mammoth genomes with an eye to the possible revival of mammoths. Amo
ng those efforts are the Woolly Mammoth Revival project at Harvard University, headed by George Church, the Pleistocene Park Project in Russia under Sergey and Nikita Zimov, and cloning innovations by South Korea’s Hwang Woo-Suk and Japan’s Akira Iritani.
None of these scientists bears the least resemblance to the fictional Henri Anjou, Ginger Kim, or Nikodim Zhurov.
A major purpose of these de-extinction efforts is to protect the permafrost.
Without large animals to compact and scrape away thick insulating layers of winter snow, extreme winter cold does not penetrate the soil. That fact, coupled with significantly warmer summers, accelerates the melting of the permafrost and the release of greenhouse gases that have been trapped for millennia. From a global carbon perspective, the carbon release from melting of the world’s permafrost is equivalent to burning all the world’s forests 2 ½ times.
—Revive & Restore, https://reviverestore.org/projects/woolly-mammoth/
There are many, many hurdles to cross before reviving even a single mammoth would be feasible. Despite the wealth of mammoth remains, none of them contain an intact and viable cell suitable for cloning.
Even if the mammoth genome were fully understood and replicated, to produce a mammoth embryo, the genome would have to be inserted into an egg harvested from the mammoths’ nearest living relative, the Asian elephant—itself an endangered species. Egg harvesting from an elephant would be a complex, never-before-tried procedure that could be fatal for the elephant.
Then there’s the problem of gestation. Elephants have a hard time reproducing as it is—to divert a viable elephant mom into a risky two-year mammoth pregnancy with a low probability of success would be irresponsible at best. My fictional Project Hannibal solved this problem by using an artificial gestation system of tanks of amniotic fluid—something we are nowhere close to figuring out.
Finally, there’s the problem of providing the first revived mammoths with a social support system. Elephants are herd animals with a sophisticated, complex social life. Would a baby mammoth be adopted into a herd of elephants? Would it thrive to become a viable herd member and parent, able to help raise a generation of revived mammoths? We have no idea. We have no way to know what mammoth behavior was like. The significant behavioral differences between species as closely related as African and Asian elephants suggests that there is a lot to know.