Author's Note: An error has been bought to my attention through the reviews, regarding Tim's surname. While I now know that Tim's name is Murphey, I have decided to leave his surname as Hammond for continuity reasons, and also so I don't have to re – upload every chapter. I hope this does not cause much of an impact to anyone's enjoyment of the story.

THREE

Tim wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he stood at the head of the conference table stacked with some of the finest business minds in New York City. He sipped at his ice water and cleared his throat, his eyes roaming around the room. "I'd like to thank you all for coming," he began. "And I apologise for the late notice, but I wouldn't have called you all here if it weren't important." He drew a breath and smiled. "My friend and associate Nick Van Owen has just returned from an expedition to an island off the coast of Costa Rica. The same island where my grandfather was to have built his theme park with living dinosaurs as the main attraction. You have all heard the rumours, the gossip and the innuendo about this place, and for most of my life I have been running from the legacy it gave me."

Some board members exchanged puzzled glances and whispered into each others' ears, but Tim knew he had their attention. "Nick was sent to the island to recover some items that it would seem my grandfather needs to reconstruct his dreams. Those items have not been returned to my grandfather and they are now sitting in a secure location. At this point we are the only others who know of their existence. Now that might change within the next few weeks, and this is why I-we-bring this proposal to you now…"

Nick leaned forward and listened intently. How was Tim going to pull this off? He sounded like he was setting them up for the investment pitch of a lifetime, and really what he was asking for were funds to eradicate every last dinosaur from the planet. Nick looked from each stern face at the table and tried to gauge the feeling in the room, and he was hit with looks of insatiable greed from every board member. Tim had certainly picked the right pitch then; he was telling them that this was an opportunity to make stacks of money, and they needed to spend big to make the big bucks. It was not so much a sleight of hand than an out-and-out lie. What they were going to attempt would surely not play well in this room full of suits.

"We need to lobby hard to get the UN and the Costa Rican government to put a team on Site B, so we can sort out exactly what we have there. I know that you all have strong connections with diplomats, politicians, delegates and even royalty. By the end of the month we should have secured at least enough time on the island to put a small expedition on the ground, bring back data, and then decide where to go from there." He stood still and gestured emphatically with his hands. "We are talking about dinosaurs, people. I would rather it be me who decides what happens now to the remnants of Jurassic Park. My grandfather is dying, and time is short. We need to move quickly and spare no expense to ensure that we do the right thing."

Tim stood back and drank down the rest of his water. The boardroom was silent for a few seconds as each board member weighed up his address. Tim needed at least a fifty five percent majority to make this happen, and everyone in the room had their poker faces on.

Kevin Waite, the auburn haired man sitting at the opposite end of the table, stood and led the group in polite applause. Waite watched Tim unsmilingly as the rest of the board stood. "Thankyou, Timothy," He said briskly. "We will put this to a vote. Will you stay and cast yours?"

It was a challenge and Tim knew it. Waite was not a supporter of Tim's vision for the company, and they had clashed on several occasions. Waite was from a powerful family in the Midwest and he was not the favoured son, so he was given the seat on the board of Ahead Communications. He was ten years older than Tim and liked to point that out to as many people as possible. Whenever there was a debate over a major decision, board members would take either Tim's side or Waite's. The offer to withdraw honourably while the board voted was a sound one; Tim's vote was worth five times what any other executive's was, and he regularly passed on voting as a courtesy to the board; he only used his vote when he desperately wanted things to go his way.

Tim nodded. "Yes, of course. Thankyou."

Waite motioned for Nick and Tim to leave, and as the door closed behind them, Tim leaned against the door heavily. "It's going to be close," He said in a whisper. "I can guarantee at least three votes will go our way, people who have always trusted me, but the rest I couldn't say…"

Nick nodded. "Tough crowd," he replied. "Especially that preppie asshole who told us to leave."

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. "I tried to pitch more to him. The greediest man I have ever met. I took a huge risk raising the ghosts of my Grandfather's blunders in front of those people. They are already waiting for me to fall."

Nick nodded. He knew what that feeling was like. "You're taking a huge risk."

Tim shook his head irritably. "It's worth it. I know in my heart that what I'm doing is right."

After what seemed like an eternity, one of the board members opened the door and asked them back in. The two men looked at each other with growing unease and walked into the boardroom like men going to the electric chair.

Tim felt for sure that Waite had gained supremacy in the meeting that had just taken place. As they sat down and each man gratefully accepted a glass of water, Waite cleared his throat and smiled enigmatically at Tim. "Well, Mister Hammond, you certainly shocked us with your proposal," he began slowly. "I must confess that I admire your guts for pitching such a risky enterprise here today."

Tim inclined his head and braced himself for the inevitable shot-down-inflames feeling. "I realise that what we are proposing is risky," Tim conceded. "But I believe in this project."

Waite nodded and opened a folder in front of him, though he did not need to consult it to tell Tim the outcome of the vote. "Well, it was a close vote," he said. "There was a lot to consider. The mistakes of the past were raised quite justly by you, and we do not intend to let those mistakes happen again." Waite glared at Tom for a few interminable moments, and smiled. "But we have decided to allow this expedition go forward."

Nick slumped back into his chair and absently mopped his brow with a handkerchief and Tim simply nodded and smiled. Nick took a gulp of water and wondered how Tim could endure this sort of thing every single day. "What happens now?" He whispered to Tim.

Tim smiled. "Now," he replied, "Now we get our team together and start putting the wrong things right."

The museum felt like home again after so long on the road. The cool, musty smell of the building made Sarah Harding wish she had never left the safety of this place, had just let others do the dirty work. After twenty years of digging up bones in Montana, she had decided to accept the offer from the University of Montana to continue her research, but in a more "supervisory" capacity. She rarely attended dig sites anymore; word on campus was that Harding had suffered a complete mental breakdown after the events on Site B. Her up close experiences with Dinosaurs had made her a kind of urban legend; she authored a book about the behaviours she witnessed, in particular the maternal instincts of Tyrannosaurs, which became a surprise bestseller around the world.

She rarely spoke publicly of her experiences at Site B, except when a student hypothesized over a fossil and she would correct them, going into great detail about the movements or the noises the animals made. Each time, her students would scribble madly in their notebooks, recording each word as if was a gospel.

In truth, Dr. Sarah Harding was simply tired. She had been one of the few people on earth to see the creatures up close and in their natural environment. Harding did not have the passion to continue digging up these sad remnants of a past that had been revisited on the earth. She saw no point in continuing her research, and she certainly had no desire to write a book of her adventures, as some of the survivors – particularly Ian Malcolm – had. This birthday she would be forty five, and she was ready to retire, leave the science of Palaeontology to rot like the animals it studied. Because soon, the science of studying these animals would become close to veterinary science, and there were students of hers already who were scrambling to be on the vanguard of that emerging discipline.

She sighed as she watched a school group following a guide around the dinosaur exhibit. The kids looked to be in their early teens but the held the wonder of kids half their age as they looked at the massive skeletons in scary poses. Here, see the T-Rex as it is about to rip the throat from the Brachiosaur! Here, see the Triceratops as it hunkers down to charge at the Spinosaur! It was all there, recreated in still life, and it enthralled them.

Harding shook her head and continued on through the corridors until she reached the sanctity of his office. Her secretary was on leave and she had not asked for a replacement, so it came as a complete surprise when she saw a young man with spiky brown hair sitting in a chair with a book in his lap.

Harding closed the door a little forcefully and forced the young man to look up. He smiled at Harding and stood. The book in his hand was one of Alan Grant's first works. "Dr. Harding," Tim extended his hand and Harding regarded it, and then shook it.

"I'm afraid I don't recall…" Said Harding absently as she found her seat behind her desk. "Did I teach you at one point?" The boy did look familiar, now she had a chance to study his face.

Tim ducked his head and smiled. "No, but I am a huge fan of your work."

Harding smiled knowingly and shook her head. "Thankyou, but as you can see I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I am really rather tired…so if you will excuse me…"

"I didn't come here to get a book signed, Dr. Harding." Tim interrupted. Harding looked up sharply and Tim smiled his most charming smile. "I would like to talk with you about your experience on Site B."

Harding let out a long breath and raked her fingers through her hair. Since the San Diego incident, reporters had bribed their way through her colleagues to get a meeting with her. She had grown used to this sort of situation, so much so that it no longer irritated her. "Look, as I told The New York Times, the Washington Post and Oprah Winfrey, I am not interested in selling my story. My book is out there. It's there for everyone. Please consult that if you have any questions regarding my findings on site B."

Tim held up his hands, palms out, in mock surrender. "You misunderstand me. I want to talk with you about your experience because I had a similar one at my grandfather's park. My name is Tim Hammond."

Harding's green eyes sought Tim's and locked on them. She cocked her head to the side, trying to superimpose the face of the small child she had seen once in a photograph on Hammond's desk over the face of the handsome young man standing in front of her now. He certainly had Hammond's eyes…"I care even less about comparing notes, Mr. Hammond."

"Please call me Tim."

"Well, Tim, I am sorry but I will have to ask you to leave…" Sarah rose and began guiding the young man out of her office, trying to keep her face as pleasantly neutral as possible; like a mother embarrassed that her child had soiled himself in public.

"But I don't want to swap stories, Dr. Harding! I want your help."

"You have until we reach the end of this corridor to convince me not to call security, Mr. Hammond, so I suggest you use the time wisely."

"My grandfather is trying to resurrect his dream, Dr. Harding…I think he's trying to bring the dinosaurs to the mainland again…"

"Then he will buy another palaeontologist to 'consult' the project," Sarah snapped. She tried to suppress the feeling of injured pride that she had not been asked first, despite the fact that she would have turned him down. "I'm sure any number of my colleagues would jump at the chance."

They were nearing the end of the corridor. Tim swung around and started walking backwards, watching Harding's face. "But I am not here on his behalf! I need your help because I want to stop them!" He took a breath. "I need someone to help me kill the dinosaurs on site B!"

Harding took only a moment to consider her response. The prospect of ending the madness that had robbed her of her passion and almost robbed her of her life was too attractive to immediately turn down. She felt a tumult of conflicting emotions rise in her chest and she took a breath to rid herself of the tightness there. "What do you need from me?" She asked.

Tim smiled. "Most of what I learned about dinosaurs I learned from you and Alan Grant," he replied. "Well, from your books anyway." He held up the book he was reading and Harding let a slow smile reach her lips. "I know how they move, I know how they hunt. But I don't know how to kill them."

"You need someone on the ground who is experienced," Harding said slowly. "A big game hunter, something of that sort."

"You know as well as I do that no hunter – no matter how experienced – can predict how these creatures behave."

Harding raised an eyebrow. "If you are suggesting that I go on this mission of yours, then the answer is no."

Tim held up a placating hand. "What I need from you is a dossier of the habits of the creatures. Full profiles of how they move, how they will defend themselves, what it will take to kill them."