Chapter 11: The Price of Being a Gibson

Bunker

Too much time had passed in the underground bunker without any sight of human life. Scott and Stephanie were walking down a path that John Hammond had failed to put cameras on. Still, Dimitri, Erik, and Darren refused to give up on their search.

Erik returned to Dimitri's side. "This is beginning to look pointless," Dimitri groaned. "If the DLA has mom, then they're keeping her off-camera. The only way we're going to find her is to go searching for her ourselves."

Erik groaned in opposition. "Kid's got a point," Darren replied. Darren's agreement shocked Dimitri. "Your wife hasn't popped up which means the DLA is keeping a tight watch on her. Maybe we should go looking for her."

Erik shrugged. He knew his friend was right. Erik grabbed a wireless radio off the counter. He turned to his son and said. "If your mother comes up on the camera, call us."

Dimitri nodded and Erik and Darren left the bunker. Dimitri continued to spin around in the swivel chair as he tried to keep an eye on all of the cameras in the bunker. He wanted to go with his father, but he knew that someone should stay in the bunker, and seeing that Erik and Darren were the ones who created the dinosaurs, they were the obvious choices for traveling on foot. Dimitri was still bored. Five minutes after Erik and Darren's departure, Dimitri began to have thoughts of following them outside. He knew it was a stupid idea; he just wanted to be helpful.

Five more minutes passed. Dimitri's eyes were slowly closing until a figure near the bottom of the screen caught his eye. It was defiantly human. "Mom!" he yelled as he jumped at the screen. Dimitri was bitterly disappointed. "How the hell did Andrew get out?"

Staring him back through the camera, Andrew Rayburn was flailing his arms and yelling inaudibly to try and get attention. "Oh my God," Dimitri complained. "If he keeps yelling, he's bound to attract something."

Dimitri grabbed the wireless radio and motioned his finger over the call button. Dimitri paused. "Darren and my dad are busy. There's no doubt that Andrew Rayburn isn't worth their time." Dimitri stood up and tried to make a decision. Meanwhile, Andrew continued to yell at the camera, not knowing that Dimitri couldn't hear a single word he said.

"Someone's got to stop him," Dimitri finally decided. Dimitri glanced one more time at the screen before leaving the bunker as well.

Interrogation Room

Eddie pushed Kyle Norvell into the interrogation room with two other FBI agents in tow. "Kyle Norvell," Eddie said happily as he sat down across from Kyle. "I bet you thought you could outsmart the FBI. Bet you thought you could outsmart me. Clearly, you were wrong."

"Not that it matters," Kyle yelled back. "Once my mom finds out what you did, it won't be long until she enacts her revenge."

"I bet she will," Eddie replied. "Still, I'm sure your mother isn't completely heartless, which is why she's going to call you to see if you're okay." Eddie pulled Kyle's cell phone out of his pocket and placed it on a tracer.

"A tracer," Kyle noticed. "I'll have you know that my mother can interpret the tone of my voice. The conversation will be over within the minute, only 10 percent of the time you need to trace the call and I can assure you that she will not call again."

Eddie stared at Kyle in silence. Finally, Eddie spoke up. "How'd you know that the tracers take ten minutes to trace a call?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kyle asked. "The first tracer was invented in the fifties, but took about half an hour to trace. That's common knowledge. The second tracer invented about 5 years later is also common knowledge and cut the time by about 7.4 percent. A third one was developed in 1961, but the amount of time it took was not released to the public. By using the property of growth and decay of percentages, I was able to determine when the latest tracer was developed and using the same system I was able to figure out how long it took to trace a call. Simple stuff."

Eddie sighed before stepping out of the room. He ordered another agent to monitor Kyle and the phone as he took out his phone and began to dial. "Kyle Norvell is a genius," Eddie said instantly.

"Nice to speak with you, too," Dana replied, "but I don't see the problem. As long ass we get his mother, does it really matter what his intelligence is?"

"It might," Eddie replied. "Based on what Benji Madison has told me about Piper Norvell, she's a genius. She was able to predict the actions of her targets and successfully bend people's mind. Kyle's mind is an exact copy."

"So what?" Dana asked. "You act like there's some sort of conspiracy going on. Like Piper and Kyle's mind have been tinkered with to make them the perfect killers."

"Why not?" Eddie asked. "I know it seems farfetched but it's not like any part of this investigation has made any sense yet." Eddie paused. "But if there's anyone who could shed some light on the investigation, it would be the man who orchestrated all of this. Dana, I want you to get down stairs to the interrogation room and give Kyle Norvell an I.Q. test. I'm going to pay our old friend Ramon Avila a visit."

Piper's Apartment

Piper continued to relay the video of the Burger King robbery. None of it made sense to her. The police seemed scripted. The gunmen were straight to the point; they executed a hostage, but made no attempt at executing any more following Kyle. It didn't seem natural.

Piper had her cell phone flipped open and kept her finger close to the speed dial button. She motioned her finger closer until it began to ring, Piper sighed and answered it. It was Blake again. "Looks like you were right," Blake explained. "FBI agent Eddie Harold did pay your father a visit. I can't tell what he told him, but it was clearly enough to find Sam and Kyle."

"Thank you," Piper replied. Blake hung up the phone and Piper followed suit. Piper replayed the tape from the parking lot. She rewound the tape to before the robbery as Kyle entered the building. Piper pause it. In the bottom left corner was the front bumper of the black van Eddie was in. Piper fast-forwarded it to see the very same van drive off while the robbery was still in progress.

Piper sighed a sigh of relief. "At least he's alive," she told herself. "Now I just have to save him." Piper stood up and put on a black turtleneck sweater and black jeans. Piper tied her shoes and made sure both her handguns were loaded before leaving the house.

Trailer

Dalton sat alone in the first compartment, watching the dinosaurs through the screen in front of him. "The sooner governor Maximoff signs off on the island, the sooner I can get away from these creatures."

Dalton tried to enjoy the eerie silence until the second compartment door opened. Dalton entered to see that Hannah and Morgan had returned from their little side venture. Dalton was surprised to see that Lance wasn't with them.

"Where's Lance?" he decided to ask. Neither Hannah nor Morgan understood what he was talking about. "Scott Green told me that Lance left to go get you. Where is he?"

"Scott must have heard him wrong," Morgan explained. "Only a few feet down the river, the triceratops began to charge away for no apparent reason. We spent the rest of the time sitting next to the river only a few feet from here. If Lance came out to look for us, we would have seen him."

"Scott didn't mishear anything," Hannah accused. "He lied."

"That's a rather brash assumption," Morgan said.

"Maybe not," Dalton interrupted as he looked passed the girls and at the door that led to the third compartment. Dalton walked passed the and slowly opened the door. Dalton growled as soon as he saw Lance's unconscious body tied up to a pipe on the wall.

Morgan and Hannah left Dalton's side and began to untie him. "Leave him!" Dalton yelled in the same powerful voice he had exhibited earlier. "We have a missing governor and a traitorous operative. Lance isn't worth your time. Now, I want you both out there looking for them. Now!"

Morgan and Hannah did as they were told. Morgan and Hannah began to leave the trailer until Dalton called them back. "You forgot something," he said as he tossed them both handguns. "Just in case." Morgan and Hannah turned back to the open field.

Dalton turned back around and returned to Lance's side. "I know you can't hear me, but if your actions run my chances, I will hold you personally responsible."

Bar

Max Gibson was getting tied in his search for the missing Benji Madison. He had stopped by his hose, but the agent sent there said he hadn't seen Benji since that morning. Max had then received a call from Mackenzie saying someone had called her from the Hollister Bar saying he had seen Benji talking with another patron.

Max didn't think the tip was any better than the guy who claimed that Jesus changed his oil, but he had nothing better to go on. Max slowly opened the door to the bar, hoping that no one would notice him enter. No one really cared.

Max approached the bar, but the bartender was less than enthusiastic. "I don't know what you've heard, be we don't serve minors here."

"I'm not here for that," Max assured. "I'm looking for Benji Madison. I got a call that he was spotted here. Is that true?"

"No," the bartender explained. "He was sitting right where you're standing. He said his name was Dylan he was talking to another faithful customer of mine. Stan Libowitz. Wait a minute. Who are you and why should I be telling you this?"

"I work for governor Maximoff," Max explained. "Check my ID if you want proof." Max took an ID card out of his pocket and slid it over to the bartender. The bartender glanced at it and slid it across the counter.

"Anyways," Max continued. "I need to know where Mr. Madison and this Stan guy went. Do you know where they went?"

The bartender, for once, actually seemed to be thinking about his answer. "Nope," the bartender finally responded. "Dylan, or Benji Madison, and Stan were talking in hush tones and try not to intrude in other people's conversation. No I think it would be best if you left before someone calls the cops on me for letting a minor inside.

Max smirked and turned to see that someone who was passing by had stopped to glance that Max's ID card that he had left on the counter. "Max Gibson?" he asked. "That wouldn't be the very same Max Gibson whose father soiled the good name of Maryland, would it?"

"I'll have you know that I've been against my father's ideals from the start," Max explained. "I even helped Erik Maximoff and Benji Madison in taking him down. Hell, governor Maximoff employs me."

"Yeah,' the man said calmly. "That may be so, but I can't take the risk that the Gibson bloodline will continue to ruin more lives than it already has." Before anyone in the bar could react, the man pulled out a knife and proceeded to stab Max in the stomach. The bartender immediately hopped over the bar and punched the man in the face.

Max began to gasp for air as blood slowly tricked from his stab wound. "Call an ambulance!" the bartender yelled. Another man, who explained he was a paramedic, knelt down and checked Max's pulse. "Almost nothing," he explained. "If he doesn't get medical attention soon, the kid's going to die."