CHAPTER 1 - GOLDEN BLOODLINES
John always did enjoy his little presentations.
People had always called him a showman; he had an innate talent for selling wild ideas to anybody who sat in front of him. It was that childish enthusiasm that caught potential investors, his little shuffling feet and his wild gesticulations. The sparkle in his eyes was unmistakeable, and there was never a bored tone carried within his voice. For those who had known him since his early years when he travelled to England from his home country of Scotland, his attitude was commonplace.
Even during the days of the park he'd set up a little speech for himself, for every conference, for every meeting. Not that anybody complained; it was always amusing to watch the elderly man work himself into such an excited state. It'd relieve the stress of any situation to have him around.
After the incident he changed. He was never the same, the childishness somewhat dimmed. I suppose you could say that he finally grew up. Not that you couldn't see the dormant twinkle in his eye from time to time.
I'll never forget the first time he approached me; I was quite young at the time, freshly graduated and relatively clueless on what I intended on doing with my life. I had received an invitation to a job proposition over the telephone from a very nice woman. I was surprised to hear that my name was known to anybody, but I went along nonetheless. Hammond had greeted me politely and led my into a dim room, the only light emanating from an overhead projector in the centre of the room. He had wasted no time. He dived straight into his idea of delving into the past. It was elegant in its simplicity; the fact that DNA could have survived buried within the residue of ancient tree sap was groundbreaking. I agreed, of course.
But he never shared with anybody where he got his idea.
Kyle Sanders, 1993
John Alfred Hammond
February 1st, 1978
Williams Road, Salinas, California, United States of America
John Hammond ambled along the sidewalk as he exited the concrete, bunker like building behind him. The orange glow of the halogen strip lights in the reception lit his way, and his expensive white shoes clicked on the ground as he walked. With every odd step there was an additional click as his brown, ornately carved walking stick made contact with the paving stones.
He had just left another failed proposition; the business of biotechnology was not treating him well. He was currently attempting to gain investors to fund the research into transferring certain proteins from certain species of amphibian into other life forms. It was now quite well documented that some amphibians such as frogs could allow themselves to become frozen completely, and then thawed out, without harm. A protein within their bloodstreams acted like antifreeze, which prevented ice crystals from forming within the cells. This was very promising to the prospect of the progression of cryogenics.
Hammond had expected to have the investors falling over themselves. But unfortunately for him, the early research which he had intended to use as proof hadn't shown the positive results that he had been hoping for.
Sixty two years old, his face was lightly creased, much less so than the average man of even forty. His childish personality carried over somewhat onto his features; his short stature and the quick movements of his legs certainly entailed a certain spark of youth which had never left him.
The glass of his spectacles caught the light of a nearby lamppost for an instant, and the lenses became momentarily opaque. It was at this moment that the back door of a nearby Mercedes popped open, and a dark figure rose out onto the sidewalk in front of Hammond.
Hammond paused for a moment to observe this person, resting his weight on his walking stick. The figure moved into the light, and a very wealthy looking man was revealed, dressed in a tailored business suit. He stood well over six feet tall, and towered over Hammond.
"Mr. Hammond," said the man in a deep, powerful voice.
"Yes," said Hammond brightly, unperturbed by the man's appearance. He extended his hand to the man, angling his arm forty five degrees higher than horizontal to make up for the height difference.
The man shook hands briefly, and then put his hands into his pockets.
"My name is Jake Donnagon," he said.
"The CEO of GeneTech?" Hammond asked, frowning, the smile disappearing from his face.
GeneTech was one of the most successful, and one of the first biotechnology companies, which had centred their products potential candidate treatments for several afflictions which included Leukaemia and Epilepsy. It was rumoured that they were now delving into cloning technology, using the DNA from several endangered species to increase the populations across the globe.
"I was," said Donnagon, "until tonight."
"I'm sorry?" said Hammond.
Donnagon inhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead with a large palm. "The company received a penalty fine of twenty million dollars this morning. I've been removed from my position and fired."
"What happened?"
"One of our research stations in Mombasa suffered a security breach. There was some sort of explosion, and the city ran some risk of being exposed to by-product fumes. Not that the international press cared, but the Kenyan government weren't happy about it, despite it not being our fault."
"A security breach?"
"Somebody broke into the labs, and tried to make off with our research material."
Hammond stroked his beard for a moment, and then glanced at the Mercedes parked next to them, the engine humming. He noticed that the windows and windshield of the vehicle were black tinted to prevent him from seeing in.
"I am sorry to hear Mr. Donnagon. But why come to me about it so late in the evening?"
Donnagon leaned in closer to Hammond.
"We can't prove it, but we know that BioSyn was involved."
"BioSyn?" asked Hammond.
"A new company; turns out they can't do their own research, they just steal from everybody else. Some guy named Dodgson has been hanging around the GeneTech labs all over the world for months."
"What research are we talking about?"
"What makes you think I'd tell you?"
"You're here, in the middle of the night speaking to a man that you barely know, my dear boy. You came to divulge something with me, so please continue."
Donnagon looked at him for a moment, and then gave the smallest of chuckles.
"Cloning," he said.
"Why would they go through all of that trouble to get cloning data? It's readily available to most start-up companies."
"That's because this cloning technology is unique. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to bring an extinct animal back to life?"