Z. Raptor (5 page)

“Uh-huh.” Doug shook hands with Mr. Adlar and smiled at Adam. “You gave me quite a workout.”

Adam looked down at his feet and said nothing. Doug took a seat in an armchair.

“I just got through talking with Doc Marrs again on the phone,” said Chen. “He wants to play things his way, but I'm getting kinda worried about the timescale, you know?”

“How do you mean?” asked Mr. Adlar.

“Well, he's set on digging up as much background information on Geneflow as possible, then he wants to present his findings to the UN Peacekeeping Operations Office of Military Affairs. They'll discuss the whole case to death over who knows how many weeks, and before they can send an international military force to the island, it will have to be agreed upon by the General Assembly—”

Adam spoke up worriedly. “And all the time, Geneflow will still be doing whatever they're doing.”

“Smart kid,” said Chen. “Plus, how do we know your pal Hayden was the only Geneflow big cheese involved with the Ethics Association? If these guys find out that the UN is on to them—”

“They could go deeper into hiding, or bring their plans forward, or anything.” Mr. Adlar sat down heavily in an armchair. “So, what does the FBI plan to do?”

Chen smiled. “I plan to let the doc get on with doing his thing. But in the meantime, we launch a reconnaissance mission. Try to find this island and Lisa Brannigan and get some hard proof of this dinosaur stuff. We've got a couple of good leads on which island LisaBee was talking about—a rough distance south of Hawaii . . . a crumbling tower visible from the sea—”

“Plus, I've got a contact in Honolulu who runs long-distance boat tours around the big islands,” Doug put in. “For an old pal and a couple of drinks, he might be able to point us in the right direction.”

Mr. Adlar stared. “This is how the FBI run their operations? Calling in favors from their agents' friends?”

Chen glanced at Doug with annoyance, then back at Adam's dad. “I'm having to make this trip unofficial,” he admitted.

Mr. Adlar stared. “I don't understand.”

“I believe—I
know
—that someone in the bureau has taken bribes from Josephs in the past to keep quiet about certain of her activities.” Chen got up and started to pace the room, agitated now. “If we go after Geneflow by the book, things could get messy. That's why I'm going after Josephs now, without official sanction, and why I'm only taking along people I can trust. Like Doug here.” Chen looked Mr. Adlar in the eye. “And like you, Bill.”

“No,” Adam said at once.

Mr. Adlar held up a hand to Adam, a “calm down, I'll handle this” gesture. “Agent Chen, no one wants to see Sam Josephs and Geneflow brought down more than I do. But I've done what I can, told you all I know—”

“We need someone who understands something of the processes and technology involved,” Chen went on. “Bill, you're an expert witness.”

“I'm a father,” Mr. Adlar shot back. “I'm not going to abandon my son while I go off scouring the ocean for Raptor Island.”

“Of course you're not,” said Chen reasonably. “Because Adam's going to come with us.”

Adam stared in sick disbelief as Doug pulled a gun from his pocket. “What the . . . ?”

“Run, Adam!” Mr. Adlar grabbed a table lamp and hurled it at Doug. But the lamp was on too short a cord and never came close to hitting Doug before it smashed on the ground. As Adam charged for the door regardless, he heard a cold gasp of compressed air. Looking over his shoulder he saw his dad keel over and sprawl across a coffee table.
Got to get help,
he thought, numb with horror as he reached the door.
Get to the front desk and call the police.

But Doug was already aiming the pistol at him.
Phut!
Before Adam could even turn the handle, there was a sharp needle of pain in his side. He looked down to find a dart protruding from his ribs. A second later, his sight seemed to explode into vivid colors, flaring to whiteout as he crumpled silently to the floor.

A
dam woke from a pitching pit of blackness and wished he hadn't. His head felt like someone had set fire to his brain and then stamped out the flames. Nausea turned through his aching stomach. His mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow. There was a sharp slapping noise repeating in his ears, and he struggled to make sense of it.

Sails,
he thought numbly as the world lurched around him again.
Sails tugging in the wind. I'm on a boat.
Then he felt a sharp point scratch his arm and gasped.

“You should start feeling a little more human soon,” came a deep voice beside him. “You've been under sedation. Nothing to worry about—I kept a close eye on you the whole time.”

“You're a doctor?” Adam croaked.

“Yes. Or, used to be, anyway.”

Adam forced his eyes open. His vision was blurred but he saw a thin, disheveled man sitting just beside him in a tiny cabin, his beard graying faster than his thinning hair. He was holding something—a syringe? Adam's eyes flickered shut as his nausea got worse. His memories were hazy. He remembered someone helping him stumble off a plane at some tiny airport. The drone of men's voices as they gathered in some kind of cabin, ignoring him at the back of the room. His dad, shouting that they be taken back to New York—

“Dad?” Adam's eyes snapped open again and he struggled to rise from the hard, narrow bunk. “Dad! Where's my dad?”

“He's fine.” The bearded man fed him a little cool water and gently eased him back to a supine position. “He's on the other boat right now. John's with him.”

“John . . .
Chen
. . . ?” Suddenly events tangled back into Adam's mind. The violence in the hotel room. The video of the island. Lisa Brannigan—and the raptor. He grabbed the doctor's arm. “I want to see my dad.”

“You will.” He gently but firmly removed Adam's fingers from his wrist. “Very soon, I'm sure.”

Adam tried to slow his breathing. He felt weak and sick. “Who are you people?”

“I'm Daniel Stone. Before I retired, I was a forensic pathologist attached to the FBI.”

“A what?”

“I studied dead bodies to see how they'd died. Left the bureau under a bit of a cloud. John looked out for me. I owed him some favors, so . . .” He shrugged. “It's the same for a lot of the guys on this trip. But this should help us pay him back.”

“Really?” Adam looked at him uneasily. “Why did he take you, then? Is he expecting a lot of dead bodies?”

“Course not.” Stone smiled thinly. “He just wanted a doctor on call for this trip. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Adam took some more water in little sips. He stared around but could see only darkness through the little cabin's window. “Where are we?”

“On a sailing ship called the
Hula Queen
in the Pacific Ocean
,
four days out of Honolulu.” Stone straightened. “You know, a lot of the crew have been wishing they could swap places with you. They've been working their butts off—”

“Four days?” Adam echoed, incredulous. “I've been sleeping all that time?”

“It was safe, no risk. And it seemed easiest all around.” A radio squawked in Stone's pocket, and he pulled it out. “Hi, there. Yes, the boy's awake. No adverse reaction to the medication . . .” There was a brief snatch of garbled noise, which Stone made sense of, at any rate. “Right. We'll expect you.” He pushed the radio back into his pocket and smiled wanly at Adam. “Agent Chen's coming over. If you're feeling strong enough, he'd like to talk to you.”

I'd like to talk to him too,
thought Adam. But as he heard the thin, high rumble of an outboard engine from somewhere in the darkness outside, he felt suddenly afraid. His mind was still trying to comprehend his predicament. He'd blacked out in a hotel room in Manhattan and come round on the other side of the world in the middle of the Pacific. ...

“Why wake me now?” he demanded suddenly. “Why after all this time?”

“Because we've found it,” said Stone. “The island.”

Raptor Island.
Adam's nausea got suddenly worse. “No,” he breathed hoarsely. “No, we can't be there.”

“Come on. Take it slowly.” Stone gave Adam some more water, took hold of his arm and helped him to stand. The floor was shifting with the swell of the ocean, but Adam held it together and managed to reach the door by himself. He opened it and shuffled into a narrow corridor, which in turn led to a flight of steps stretching up to the deck.

Woozily, with a little help from Stone, he scaled the staircase and rested in the doorway. Above decks, the air was sharp and fresh; it helped to clear his head.

The first thing he noticed was that the ship was big; the deck was almost as wide as a typical classroom and maybe four times as long. It was lit with red lanterns, turning the handful of crew into crimson silhouettes as they scrambled about on deck and in the rigging. One of them was Doug, his familiar gray cap still in place; Adam took a step back on instinct. Staring past the shadow figures, Adam searched out the blurred split between boundless black sea and starry night. With a slow tingle of dread, he made out a low hump of distant darkness beneath the pale disk of the moon.

“I might not have seen it at all, if not for the tower,” Doug called, and Adam saw what he meant—a thin ungainly stack thrust up at the stars. “Not long now till we bag ourselves a monster, guys. Its head's gonna look good on the wall of the vets' club.”

“What do we do with the rest of the thing?” someone else asked.

“Barbecue!” Doug declared with an exaggerated pirate's brogue. “Argh, bet you that monster tastes sweet.”

“It'll taste like charcoal, the way you cook it.”

Laughter rang out into the empty darkness, and Adam's heart began to pound helplessly. He was glad that Stone at least wasn't smiling.

Then the whine of an outboard motor stole into Adam's ears; he turned to find a small, sleek orange boat skimming over the white-crested waves from out of the shadow of another large sailing ship.

“Your dad's quartered on the
Pahalu
there,” Stone said, coming up behind him. “I brought him around yesterday. He's fine. If a little . . . aggrieved.”

“I want to see him,” Adam repeated.

“You'll have to talk to Chen.”

Nerves balled in Adam's stomach when he saw Chen at the helm of the powerboat as it pulled up alongside the
Hula Queen
.

“Hey, Adam,” he called, his features half in shadow. “Welcome back.”

A big guy in a red T-shirt came and flipped a steel rope ladder over the side of the ship. Adam watched coldly as Chen climbed up. “You kidnapped my dad and me.”

“I'm sorry. I needed your dad, Adam, and I couldn't leave you home alone in case Geneflow came looking. You're a lot safer here, believe me.” Chen swung his legs over the side of the ship and pulled a radio from his pocket. “Go ahead and talk to your old man. Press down the button on the side when you want to speak.”

Without comment, Adam seized the radio. “Dad, are you there?”

“Adam! Are you all right, Adam?” His dad's voice sounded strong and vibrant even over the tinny speaker. “Don't be afraid, okay? It's going to be fine.”

Adam glared at Chen as he talked. “I want to see you, Dad. Why have they split us up?”

“To keep you safe,” his dad said. “You're staying on that ship with Dr. Stone and a guard, well away from the island. As for me . . . I'll be going ashore with the second group.”

“Second group?” said Adam numbly, still trying to catch up as the situation raced on around him.

“Sure.” Chen pulled a pair of night-vision binoculars from his pocket and trained them on the island. “I'm leading the first expedition ashore in the RIBs.” He must've noticed Adam's blank look. “Rigid inflatable boats, like that one I took over here. We'll land discreetly, check out the area, and if it's safe”—he pointed to the bigger ship—“we'll bring in the
Pahalu
. She's a whole lot more defendable than the RIBs, in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

“And what are you going to do once you're on the island?” Adam demanded.

“If Lisa Brannigan and the other people trapped there are still alive, they'll need help,” said Chen, tucking the binoculars away again. “From the look of things, better help than that talking dinosaur can offer. We're bringing medical care as well as muscle.”

“You're acting like you're such a good guy.” Adam realized his thumb was still on the transmit button, sending the conversation to his dad.

As he released it, Mr. Adlar's voice gusted out: “Chen, I'm begging you to think again about this madness. Call for proper backup before it's too late . . .”

As his dad railed on, Chen turned down the volume and beckoned to the guy in the red T-shirt. “Brad, try to take us in a little closer to the island. The outboards on the RIBs are noisy—the less we need to run them, the better.” As Brad took off to chivvy the crew and weigh anchor, Chen put the radio back to his mouth. “Are you through acting like my mother, Bill?”

“You saw those creatures on the video,” Mr. Adlar went on, “but you don't know what they're really capable of.”

“And you don't know what my friends here can do,” Chen retorted. The
Hula Queen
lurched as the wind caught in her sails, propelling her onward toward the island. “Thirteen highly trained, heavily equipped hunters, all pros—ex-cops or military. We have enough firepower to take out a small army and get us access to Josephs and the rest.” He took a deep breath. “We'll be going in shortly, Bill. Sit tight. I'll contact Rich when I can to give the all clear to come and join us.”