Bojo and Toshima were tending to one of the automated analyzers, while the others were preparing more samples for analysis. The core science group — Funakoshi and his colleagues — had been busy, she noted. (In fact, according to the grapevine, they were on the verge of some kind of breakthrough.) Already they’d sent more than a dozen serum samples over to Group Five from their private lab. As Nikki had expected, they’d given the support workgroup no clues as to what the samples were, no indications of exactly what they were looking for from the analyses. That meant that Nikki and her colleagues had to perform complete, exhaustive analyses — from scratch, as it were, without being able to take any effort-saving shortcuts.
The computer terminal on her desk beeped. That meant that the results of the first analyses had been processed by the computers and were ready for examination. She keyed in the appropriate commands to bring the analysis of the first serum up on her screen as a graph.
She stared at the complex graph, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. After a few minutes, the data began to make some sense. With her finger she traced out the “landmarks,” the components of the serum that would allow her to figure out what was going on. Yes, there was the lysine peak, and over here tryptophan. Those were amino acids, the chemical building blocks of proteins. That meant that the first serum — SAMPLE 1A-93-03, the file label on the top of the screen said — had to be a protein of some kind.
But what kind? That was obviously what the science team wanted Group Five to determine. She keyed in another command, and waited while the computer juggled the data, ordering it in another way. A completely different graph appeared on the screen.
The shape of the graph was vaguely familiar; it took only a moment to place the pattern. This is a human protein, she realized, apparently some kind of blood protein. She sat back in her chair. What the hell’s going on here? she asked herself in exasperation. Why are they sending over human proteins? Was it some kind of test? she wondered. Were they sending over something totally mundane just to see if she and her colleagues would catch it?
But why would they waste time that way? Maybe the sample was contaminated. That makes more sense, she told herself. It was easy enough to accidentally nick yourself in a lab, and a drop of blood could completely contaminate and ruin a sample. The computerized analyzers were incredibly powerful, but they were rather “simple-minded.” Could the machines have analyzed the contaminant — the blood of a clumsy technician — instead of the real sample? It’s possible… She leaned forward again to examine the graph once more. Yes, human blood, pure and simple …
No, wait. What the hell is that? She traced with a fingertip an unfamiliar hump at the right-hand end of the graph. Quickly she instructed the computer to expand that segment of the plot.
Her breath whistled through her teeth as she examined the aberrant data. This wasn’t a human protein — not a normal one, at least. This structure, here … what is it? Again she had the computer reorder the data.
On the new plot, it was clear—there was some kind of chemical complex that just didn’t belong in a human protein. An animal protein, maybe? No, not even that. It had characteristics that were similar to mammalian — but non-human—proteins, but it wasn’t a total match. It’s like an animal, but not like it. She reviewed the rest of the graph. Yes, about seventy-five percent of the protein’s structure was obviously human. Twenty percent of it was just as obviously animal. That left five percent that was … what?
She leaned back again, her brow wrinkled in a frown. It’s some kind of hybrid protein, she recognized, something that just doesn’t happen naturally. What did that mean?
Carefully she thought it through. The mysterious five percent was marginally unstable. That meant it could change its chemical structure under certain circumstances. No functional protein, from a living creature, could have that characteristic. Which meant…
Which meant it didn’t come from a living creature, she concluded. Of course, she should have figured it out before. Funakoshi was a chimeric gene splicer, wasn’t he? He’d made his mark in the scientific world by modifying the genes of experimental creatures, of splicing genes from different sources together to come up with something totally new. A new gene that could code for a strange protein like this? Possibly.
But where had he got the original genes to work on? Obviously one of the “genetic donors” had been human. Which means Funakoshi’s performing genetic engineering on humans, doesn’t it? There were strict laws in Japan — and in the United States, she remembered — tightly restricting genetic engineering on human tissue. The reason was safety: the risks, should anything go wrong, were just too great if the most stringent precautions weren’t taken. Is that why we came to Sumatra? she asked herself. To avoid Japanese law? That made some sense. But she still had the feeling, deep in her gut, that there was more to it than that.
She’d have to keep a close watch on Funakoshi, and on everything that came out of his lab, if she wanted to understand. Working quickly, glancing around to make sure nobody saw what she was doing, she saved a copy of the analysis file in her personal directory on the computer, secured it with a password. She’d probably want to look over this later, when she had more time to think.
Chapter Nine
Nikki sat at the powerful microcomputer in her cramped quarters. Using the PAGE DOWN key, she flipped through the half-dozen analyses she’d stored in her personal directory. Her brain hurt from trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She leaned back, stretching her shoulders to release the tension, rubbed her tired eyes.
According to the time display in the upper right of the screen, it was just after five-thirty in the morning. It had been a late night — Funakoshi’s group had definitely been busy, feeding samples to Group Five for analysis — and she hadn’t made it out of the lab until well past midnight. She’d been glad to roll into her bed and fall asleep.
The nightmares had come, of course. She should have expected it, but she’d been too tired to think of it. In her dreams she’d run through the night-black jungle, waving her useless pistol, while rotting corpses gibbered and drooled as they chased her. Countless times she’d burst into the fire-lit clearing, called to Hollingforth and the soldiers for help … only to see them smile with their decaying lips and reach for her with blood-encrusted fingernails.
At four in the morning she’d decided that she couldn’t go back to sleep. She couldn’t face what would be waiting for her. Instead, she’d padded across to the computer and called up her records of the previous day’s analysis. Might as well do something productive, she’d told herself.
Now her head throbbed, and her shoulders and neck felt like they’d seized up like rusty metal joints. Her mouth tasted like something had died in it. What she really needed was a mug of strong coffee, she knew, but that would mean crossing the darkened compound. Much better to wait for the sun to rise in — she checked her watch again — about an hour. She glanced over at the disarranged bed. It looked so attractive… but also threatening. With a sigh, she went back to reviewing the results.
Group Five had analyzed six samples yesterday. Two of them — SAMPLE 1A-93-03 and the one that followed it — were strange hybrid proteins. The other four were …
Just weird. They were proteins too, that was undeniable. But they hadn’t come from any animals or plants, insects or bacteria, that had ever lived. Certainly, they showed characteristics that were reminiscent of living creatures, but the overall structures were something totally different, totally unknown. Just what the hell is Funakoshi building over there? she asked herself for the hundredth time.
She sighed again. She wasn’t going to make any headway now, that was for sure. Her head was too foggy with fatigue, and anyway she felt like she was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle when she didn’t have all the pieces. Carefully, she saved the file, made sure the password security was still in place. According to the strict security rules of the outpost, what she was doing was patently illegal. Any re
sults from her analysis were to be sent — directly and electronically — to the science group in the secured lab. No copies were to be made; even any notes she or her colleagues made had to be forwarded to the scientists, or destroyed. (Why? she wondered. Who do they think I might pass this stuff to? But of course that wasn’t important. Strict security was as natural as breathing to Agatamori Eichiro.) She powered down the computer, looked over at the bed again. What to do now? She could go to the lab, but there wasn’t anything constructive she could do there. If they stuck to their regular routine, the scientists wouldn’t be sending over any more samples until after nine. Administrative work? That was one of the advantages about working at the outpost: there was a bare minimum of paperwork, and Nikki had cleared up the last of it before calling it a night. Read? Once again she cursed herself for not bringing any light reading. She certainly didn’t feel like wading through a text book.
She rose, stretched her back until she heard the vertebrae popping. I wonder what Peter’s doing, she found herself thinking. Probably up and about, getting ready’ for another day of searching for the weretiger. Unbidden, the image of Hollingforth formed in her mind. He’s so friendly, she thought, not outgoing, but that’s just his background. And he’s doing something he really believes in, something he considers important. He’ll stick with it, even if there’s a chance it’ll kill him.
And what about me? she asked herself. Do I believe in what I’m doing? Do I care about it? A few months ago, the answer would have been “yes.” But now?
She shook her head. What do I think I’m going to do? she asked herself harshly. Run away from the outpost, go join Hollingforth and Black in the jungle? She laughed wryly. I need some coffee.
Unfocused fears nagged at her as she strode out of the building into the compound, but she ruthlessly forced them from her mind. The sky was still black overhead, but the stars were fading and to the east the first pink wash of dawn had begun to light the sky. The air was pleasantly cool, but she knew that wouldn’t last. It’s going to be another hot one. She turned right and headed for the administration building.
The men were no more than ten yards away as she turned the corner of the support lab building. She and the others saw each other at the same moment, and stopped in their tracks.
There were four security guards accompanying three scientists, Funakoshi among them. All were wearing the dark blue jumpsuits she’d seen a few nights ago. One of the younger scientists was carrying something gingerly — an elliptical steel container, about two feet long and half that wide.
The security guards moved first. One swung something up, pointing it at Nikki —a gun? she thought in panic. But then the beam of a powerful flashlight caught her full in the face, dazzling her.
“Stop!” the security guard snapped. “What are you doing here?”
Nikki shielded her eyes with a hand. “It’s me,” she shouted hurriedly, “Nikki Carlson.”
The security guard lowered his beam so it shone on the ground at Nikki’s feet. He and another of his armed colleagues came forward, accompanied by Funakoshi. At a harsh command from the silver-haired man, the other scientists and security guards headed off for the secured lab at a fast walk.
Flanked by the guards, Funakoshi stopped a couple of yards in front of Nikki. The flashlight had ruined what night vision she had, and the light in the sky wasn’t bright enough for her to see his expression. But his voice made it obvious he wasn’t happy.
“What are you doing here?” he barked, echoing the words of the security guard. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Her fright at the sudden encounter was quickly turning to anger at Funakoshi’s rudeness. “If it’s any of your business,” she snapped back, “I’m going to get some coffee. I’m free to go anywhere I want. I’m not a goddamn prisoner.”
Funakoshi stared at her emotionlessly, untouched by her anger. And that only made her madder. “I want my coffee,” she growled. She turned to walk around them.
“Stop!” Funakoshi glared at her, his eyes narrowing with thought. “You spoke to me at breakfast the other day,” he said. “You asked me about my work, and now you’re out here observing us.” Nikki started to object, but something about the man’s expression stopped her. “You seem very curious., Carrson,” he mused, his omission of the honorific “-san” making her name sound like an insult. “Curiosity is bad for security. What other security provisions have you broken, I wonder? And why?”
With that, he turned on his heel. Still flanked by the two guards, he strode off toward his lab building,
leaving Nikki fuming in his wake.
*
The summons — there was no other word for it — came several hours later. Nikki was in the lab, working beside Omi, the most technically skilled of her people, struggling to get a recalcitrant analyzer back on-line. She hadn’t seen the security guard come in, noticing him only when he spoke.
“Carrson-san,” he said formally, with a slight bow. “Eichiro-san requests your presence.”
Nikki looked up in surprise, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I’m busy,” she said shortly. “This should take about an hour. After that…”
“Now, Carrson-san,” the guard cut her off. “Eichiro-san requests your presence immediately.” Although his choice of words denoted a polite request, the hard edge to his voice made it an order.
Nikki felt herself flushing, felt the eyes of her colleagues on her. Another shame, she knew they’d be thinking. Emotions warred inside her … and anger won out.
But she knew it would do no good yelling at the guard — which was what she wanted to do, of course. I le was just delivering a message, and shooting the messenger — or even shouting at him — wasn’t prac-lical. She settled for shooting him a hard glare, which of course left him totally unfazed.
She glanced over at Omi. “Can you handle this yourself?” she asked.
The technician nodded, but didn’t even deign to speak to her.
She wiped her hands on her labcoat and glared at the guard again. “Take me to Eichiro-san,” she ordered. She could feel the eyes of the others on her again
as she followed the guard’s broad back out of the lab. *
Eichiro’s office in the outpost was almost exactly the same size as the one he’d had in the Kanawa Building, Nikki saw as she stepped through the door. The carpeting was the same light blue-grey, and even the furniture looked exactly the way she remembered it. Maybe he had it brought with him, she thought. The only difference was that Eichiro’s Tokyo office had a window with a view of the Imperial Palace. Here there was no window. In its place, on the wall behind the manager’s large desk, was a large painting — an abstract that inexplicably made Nikki think of oppression and hopelessness. Or is that just my mood? she wondered.
Eichiro himself looked just the way he had in Tokyo. He wore the same dark suit of conservative cut, a white
shirt, and a brightly-patterned “power” tie. A suit and tie were totally inappropriate for a site in a tropical jungle, but there was something about the man’s aura the man seemed to exude that made Nikki — in her shorts and light blouse — feel like she was the one out of place.
The manager was reading something when the security guard ushered Nikki in — a file of some kind. (My personnel dossier? Nikki wondered.) After a moment, he looked up, marking his place with a thick finger banded with a heavy gold ring. “Carrson-san,” he said with a millimetric bow. “Thank you for your promptness.” There was no hint of irony in his voice, Nikki noted with mild surprise. “Please, sit down.” He indicated one of the comfortable visitor chairs.
She did, keeping her eyes on him.
“If you’ll allow me a moment…” Without waiting for her response, he returned to his examination of the file open in front of him. After maybe a dozen seconds, he grunted to himself in satisfaction, pulled a gold pen from his inside pocket and initialled the bottom of the page he’d been reading. Then he closed the file and slipped it int
o the top drawer of his desk. “My apologies,” he said, “but the requirements of this job are sometimes heavy.”
Nikki looked at him, puzzled. There was something … strange … about Eichiro. The other times she’d met him he’d been hard, cold, emotionless as a machine or a jungle predator. But now he seemed … Friendly? Open? Human? At some deep level, that disturbed her.
“What can I do for you, Eichiro-san?” she asked politely.
He sighed, a strange sound coming from someone as apparently imperturbable. “One of my responsibilities is managing some very valuable personnel,” he began slowly. “Personnel of great potential, but sometimes a little … shall we say, lacking in maturity and personal stability? Sometimes these personnel get an idea and cling to it, even though there’s no evidence that they’re right. My duty is to work through such ideas with them, solve the problem — whether real or imagined — and allow them to return their attention to what they should be doing. Do you understand, Carrson-san?”
Nikki nodded. She thought she knew what was coming.
She was right. “I’m referring to Funakoshi-san, of course.” The tone of Eichiro’s voice implied this was an uncomfortable admission. “He has … well, he has got i I into his head that you are a security risk, Carrson-san. I le has taken unrelated incidents, and in his mind has found relations between them.” The manager ges-t u red airily with his hand. “A conversation over breakfast where you questioned him about his work. The fact that you were — he claims — spying on his movements this morning.” He grunted. “He even tied it in with your disappearance from the outpost the other day and your miraculous escape from the crea-I ures in the Jungle. All foolishness, of course, but I have to set his mind at rest by investigating. You understand, Carrson-san?”
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