SEN. HOFFMANN: Mr. Cardona, I think I speak for the rest of the Commission members when I say that we appreciate the hard work the Bureau has done in this case. For the public record, can you summarize the findings of your lab?
CARDONA: Certainly, Senator. We . . .
KAPLAN: Excuse me. Mr. Cardona. I believe Dr. Williams has an important question to ask first before you go on. Fred?
DR. WILLIAMS: Mr. Cardona, the senator from California does not speak for us all, I’m sad to say. I’ve read your draft report to the Commission and I’m dissatisfied with one of your key findings. There is an unanswered question which interests every American.
CARDONA: I’m sorry to hear that, sir. How may I answer your question?
DR. WILLIAMS: Let me backtrack briefly, so bear with me. According to your draft report, the deaths of Senator Chambliss and his Secret Service escort were caused by tampering with the reflex inhibitors . . . the so-called gronkers . . . which they wore during the trip. It was found that someone . . . probably this Jacob Adderholt, if that was indeed his real name . . . had managed to substitute defective Intel 686 microchips into their units, ones which had been preconfigured to become inoperative at precisely 1200 hours of the day that the senator’s party was scheduled to be in the refuge. It was because of the failure of the gronkers that the deinonychus pack was able to make the fatal attack on Senator Chambliss and Mr. Gerhardt . . .
CARDONA: That’s correct, sir, although it should be pointed out that Mr. Gerhardt managed to open fire and fatally wound one of the pack before he was . . .
DR. WILLIAMS: I understand, and Mr. Gerhardt will be receiving posthumous commendation for his bravery, but that’s been pointed out before, so please don’t distract me. Let me continue. Pending the outcome of the final investigation into Jake Adderholt’s true identity, it can be safely assumed that he was a member of the New American Minutemen Enclave, considering that his fingerprints match those of a known NAME terrorist. At this point in your draft report, the FBI seems to imply that Adderholt was solely responsible for the deaths. Am I correct in inferring this from the report?
CARDONA: Sir, the FBI has not completed its investigation of the events in the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. When it has done so, we will be issuing a final report which will clarify the findings of the draft report.
DR. WILLIAMS: Mr. Cardona, the director of the FBI has said that the final report will not be issued until at least a year from now. I’m losing patience with everyone involved in this investigation hedging their bets, and I think the public is, too. You found the smoking gun. What I want to know is, who pulled the trigger?
CARDONA: I beg your pardon, Dr. Williams, but it almost seems certain that Jake Adderholt was the person responsible for . . .
DR. WILLIAMS: I haven’t made myself clear and I’m sorry for that. I’ll rephrase it as a blunt question. Was Jake Adderholt acting alone, or did he have an accomplice? Was a second person directly involved in the assassination of Senator Petrie Chambliss? Specifically, was it an inside job?
CARDONA: I’m sorry, Dr. Williams, but the FBI isn’t prepared to answer that question yet.
###
Denny stopped the Hummer at the end of the road and looked around over the rear of the vehicle. He could hear the distant aerial chop of a helicopter approaching; the noise grew louder until an olive drab Army Blackhawk helicopter abruptly soared over the treetops, heading for the compound behind them. He turned back around to see Tiffany Nixon climbing out of the front passenger seat, the gun in her hand still trained on him. “Looks like the feds have arrived,” he said. “You know you’re not going to get away with this, don’t you?”
Tiffany winced in disgust. “Did you get that line from a James Bond movie or something?” She gently waved the gun toward the backpack in the back of the vehicle. “Sure I’m going to get away with it. Now pick it up and start walking. I’m going to be behind you . . . and don’t even think about trying any 007 shit with me, okay? You’ve pissed me off enough already as it is.”
He sighed as he carefully climbed out of the driver’s seat and picked up the backpack—the same one, he noted, that she had in the canoe with them earlier in the day. “No need to knock James Bond, y’know,” he grumbled as he put his right arm through the strap and tugged the pack over his shoulder like a rucksack. “Besides, I’m still curious . . . are you working for NAME, or is it someone else?”
“And you’re expecting me to play Blofeld and spill the beans.” Nixon was keeping her distance; even if he were stupid enough to try attacking her, she could still nail him before he made anything more than a dumb heroic attempt. “Just start walking. Right hand on the shoulder strap, left hand at your side. Now move.”
Denny obediently began to march down the raised boardwalk, pushing aside the last gate and heading toward the observation tower in the Chessier Prairie where they had been only yesterday. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Nixon was right behind him. She hadn’t said much to him since she had captured him in the infirmary; once he had gotten dressed, she had escorted him out a back door of the lodge to the Hummer. No one had seen them leave the compound; even if the federal agents were looking for them now, it would still take a few minutes before they guessed that the two of them had gone this way—and even then, they might not immediately suspect foul play. As for as Denny knew, he was the only one who had seen through Tiffany Nixon’s deception, that the killings of Pete Chambliss and Joe Gerhardt were not accidental.
He swatted aside some growth with his free hand as he strode down the boardwalk. Denny was surprised at how calm he felt, considering that he had little doubt that she intended to kill him. Would she shoot him, or maybe she was counting on the dinosaurs to do the work? Their gronkers were both switched on; she had taken the one she had found among his belongings in the infirmary, the one with STEINBERG written on the tape. If his suspicions had been correct, this fact was probably his only remaining hope for getting out of here alive . . .
“No, I’m not with NAME,” she said suddenly.
“Excuse me?” He stopped and started to turn around, but Tiffany waved him forward again with the Beretta. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“It’s a long walk,” she said tersely. “Might as well fill the time.” The unspoken addendum was, “And since I plan to murder you anyway, what’s the point in not letting you know?”
“But NAME is involved,” Denny added, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Am I right?”
A pause. “You’re right,” Tiffany said at last. “They sought me out because they needed a person on the inside . . . but I’m not with them. A bunch of fanatics, if you ask me.”
“Uh-huh. I see.” Keep her talking, he thought. The longer she talks, the less time she has to think . . . He remembered something she had said when they had first met yesterday. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re doing this for all the gators and deer and rabbits in the . . .”
“Don’t tempt me,” she hissed angrily. Wrong words; he quickly shut up. They walked in silence for another few yards before she spoke again. “For the gators and the deer and the rabbits, right. They wanted Chambliss out of the way because he would negotiate away the nuclear deterrent if he became president, but that wasn’t my objective. Having the pack kill Chambliss would help to ensure that the project would be ended. This ecosystem . . .” She let out her breath; it came out as a nervous rattle. “The Okefenokee isn’t meant to be a stomping ground for dinosaurs,” she continued. “The Early Cretaceous should remain where it belongs, seventy million years dead and buried. No one should be trying to graft dinosaurs into this world. Nature can’t cope with reincarnation, and if the pack survives the Okefenokee will die.”
“But it’s research,” he argued, if only for the sake of arguing. “It’s searching for answers, for . . .”
“For how many ways a new dominant species can destroy an ecological balance? Sorry, Denny, but I can’t allow
that to happen. I love this land too much. I’ve given up too much already to . . . don’t stop, just keep walking.”
“Hey, I love the balance of nature and all that,” he babbled, “but this is kind of a drastic measure, don’t you think?” She didn’t reply. He licked his dry lips and forged on. “So you hoped that, if Peter were killed by a deinonychus, the public outcry would . . .”
“Cancel the project,” Tiffany finished. “They’d exterminate the pack and leave the Okefenokee alone.”
“So you fucked with the gronkers to . . .”
“Not me,” she said defensively. “There was another person involved who did that. Look, we’re far enough along already, so I’ll make it short and give you the rest. They told me that they wanted at least one survivor, someone who could go back and tell a story that would make it look like an accident. I was told that only my gronker would work when the time came, but the more I thought about it later, the more it figured that they were lying. After all, I was the only one who could incriminate NAME. It made sense that you would survive and that I had to die. I wasn’t ready to make that sort of sacrifice, if you know what I mean.”
They had reached the end of the boardwalk now. The platform was only fifty feet away, devoid of personnel; the vast clearing of the prairie was spread out before them. “Stop here and put down the backpack,” she said.
The gate to the enclosure around the platform was locked; he could tell that just by looking, but off in the distance there was something far more unsettling. Denny could see two now-familiar shapes moving in the distance. Jason and Michael, the surviving members of the pack.
“Hurry it up,” Tiffany said. She must have spotted Michael and Jason as well. “Get the pack off, Denny.”
He unshouldered the North Face pack and carefully laid it down on the boardwalk in front of him. “So you made sure our gronkers were switched,” he said. “In fact, you did it yourself, to be certain I had the defective one and you had . . .”
“Right,” she interrupted. “You can turn around now. Step over the pack first.” Denny stepped over the backpack, then turned around to face her. He absently noticed that her hair was unbraided; the wind blew it around her shoulders and face, which now looked older for some reason. She was not a woman, he decided, who was accustomed to murder. “You got it,” she continued. “The problem was, you managed to make it back to the canoe, and Michael and Jason can’t swim. The minute I saw you in the Osprey, I knew I was screwed . . .”
“In a manner of speaking,” he impulsively replied.
Tiffany smiled despite herself. “Yes, but not by you, my dear.” Still keeping her eyes and the Beretta aimed at him, she quickly knelt to pick up the backpack. “I don’t like doing this, y’know, but of all the guys on the trip you’re the one I personally wanted to see become Dino Chow. I hate it when guys stare at me the way you did.” She hoisted the pack and ducked her left arm into the strap. “And I really despise yuppies.”
“But you like gators.” Forced humor; the final weapon of the doomed. How many yards were they behind them now?
“They’re better company than assholes like you.” From not so far behind him, he could hear heavy footfalls across the floating marshland. Jason and Michael, the glimmer twins themselves, were coming in for the kill. Tiffany managed to shrug into the backpack without lowering the gun for more than a few moments. “Anyway, it’s time to dust off the contingency plan,” she went on. “I hike out of here and you get to be a late lunch. I’d shoot you first to put you out of your misery, but someone might dig the bullets out of your carcass and there’s no sense in leaving behind any more evidence than I have to. Mikey and Jason are going to have to do the job for me. Sorry.”
Denny wanted to make a smartass remark, but his mouth was too dry for him to speak. Tiffany backed up a couple of feet, still pointing the gun at him, then carefully stepped down from the boardwalk onto the mushy ground. The sound of the approaching dinosaurs was growing louder now. Denny could feel his pulse echoing in his ears like aboriginal drums. He glanced at her waist, saw the gronker with his name written on tape on its side, made himself look away. Don’t guess, don’t guess, please don’t guess . . .
Tiffany was staring over his shoulder. “Gotta run,” she said. “As they say in the movies, ‘Goodbye, Mr. Bond’ . . .” She stopped; for a moment there was a look of sympathy in her eyes. “I hope it’s quick.” Then she was off the boardwalk; turning around, she bolted for the treeline behind them, clumsily running across the trembling earth.
Denny glanced over his shoulder. The deinonychi were hurtling straight toward him; now they seemed to have grown, taking on the dimensions of the fabled tyrannosaurus rex. He saw cold, crazy eyes, dagger-jawed mouths agape and drooling ooze, powerful legs pummeling the peat moss ground like jackhammers, forelegs with razor-sharp claws outstretched to grab, tear—oh god oh god oh god what if I’m wrong—and threw himself flat onto the boardwalk, covering his head with his arms . . .
And howled with what he half-expected to be his last breath, “I SWITCHED THE GRONKERS!”
He kept his head down, even after Jason and Michael leaped across the far end of the boardwalk—completely ignoring him—and hurled themselves toward Tiffany. He shut his eyes and lay still as death even when he heard the futile low-caliber gunshots, her screams, the sound of ripping flesh . . .
###
From the testimony of Daniel Steinberg:
KAPLAN: In closing, Mr. Steinberg, I would like to extend the appreciation of this Commission for your cooperation. You’ve been most helpful in resolving some of the unanswered questions of this event.
STEINBERG: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
KAPLAN: We realize that you have personally suffered from your ordeal, both in terms of cost to your liberty and your reputation. I’m referring, of course, to the charges of second-degree murder which have been pressed against you by the federal circuit court in Georgia regarding the death of Tiffany Nixon. I cannot give you any guarantees, but I think your testimony here today may have some favorable bearing on your legal case. Frankly, considering the continuing FBI investigation of the matter, I would be rather surprised if the charges aren’t dropped in their entirety. In fact, I expect that you will receive vindication for your role in this affair.
STEINBERG: I certainly hope so, sir, and I appreciate your support. Yet before I leave, may I make a final observation?
KAPLAN: Of course.
STEINBERG: I’ve noticed that, during these hearings, there has been some discussion of terminating the project . . . that, because the deinonychus pack also caused the deaths of Pete Chambliss and Joe Gerhardt, the dinosaurs should be exterminated themselves. I believe this has also become a matter of public debate . . .
KAPLAN: We’re aware that the public is interested in the fate of the dinosaurs. Since these hearings have started, this Commission has been deluged with letters defending their right to live, mainly from members of the scientific community and animal rights activists. On the other hand, I happened to catch a radio call-in talk show just last night in which the subject was addressed, and by a three-to-one margin the callers favored exterminating the pack . . .
STEINBERG: I caught that same discussion, too, sir, but I’m not certain whether this is an issue which should be decided by the Larry King Show. It makes about as much sense as the proposal to rename the refuge as the “Pete Chambliss Memorial Wetlands.” (Laughter). I don’t think Pete would have appreciated that . . .
KAPLAN: I tend to agree, Mr. Steinberg.
STEINBERG: The point is, Mr. Kaplan, that the dinosaurs were as much pawns in this . . . um, matter as I was. If the pack is exterminated and the research project is discontinued, then in the end Tiffany . . . that is, Ms. Nixon . . . would have succeeded in what she was trying to do. The Colorado project was begun in the name of scientific inquiry. It would be a waste to abandon it because someone tried to turn the dinosaurs into a murder weapon.
KAPLAN: But they did
murder two men, Mr. Steinberg. Three people if you count Ms. Nixon. That’s the undeniable fact.
STEINBERG: Only because killing is inherent to their nature. They can’t help themselves . . . they came from a different world than ours. If the pack is exterminated and the project is discontinued, then the bitter irony is that Tiffany Nixon will have succeeded in the end. The dinosaurs will be lost to an act of terrorism.
KAPLAN: Mr. Steinberg, you may be correct. I can’t fault your logic. Yet I’m afraid you’re much too late in making your case for the dinosaurs.
STEINBERG: What? . . . I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand what you’re . . .
KAPLAN: This morning the Georgia state legislature decided that the two surviving members of the deinonychus pack should be treated the same way as wild or domesticated animals which have caused the death of a human being. We understand that . . . uh, Jason and Michael were both destroyed at nine o’clock this morning, about the time you began your testimony.
STEINBERG: I wasn’t told . . .
KAPLAN: I’m sorry, Mr. Steinberg . . . and I believe Ms. McCaffrey would like to be recognized by the chair. Congresswoman?
McCAFFREY: I’m surprised by your last-minute plea for clemency for the dinosaurs, Mr. Steinberg. You witnessed the horrible deaths of Mr. Gerhardt and your friend and political mentor with your own eyes. If you had not turned the tables on Ms. Nixon, you would have met the same fate yourself. Perhaps you’ve had a change of mind in the meantime?
STEINBERG: Ummm . . . no, I don’t think I’ve had a change of mind, Ms. McCaffrey. It’s just that . . . well, I just don’t believe science should be the victim of politics.
McCAFFREY: Mr. Steinberg, we’ll have to forgive you for your innocence of youth. That is much too rash a statement. When has science ever been the victim of politics?
STEINBERG: Ma’am, I think you’ve got it wrong. The question should be, when has science never been the victim of politics?
Dinosaurs II Page 25