Chapter 2
Aberrant Forms
Pushing open the large roof access door, Tim Murphy ran his hands over his business suit, ironing out the creases. He shook back the tailored sleeve and glanced at his golden Rolex watch as two surly men crossed the gravel covered floor, dressed in black overalls bearing a blue stripe than ran diagonally from shoulder to navel. They walked silently towards the large helipad, its lights flashing red rhythmically. Tim leaned idly against a weathered vent, deep in thought. His grandfather; John Hammond, had died just over a year before, leaving the long dead remains of InGen to Tim, which also came with the fact that he rightfully owned two of islands off the coast of Costa Rica and several hundred genetically engineered members of the Dinosauria. However, Tim had no desire to continue his grandfather's work. All he could do was abide by John's last wish; that he protect the dinosaurs that he worked so hard to create. Bankrupt and bombarded by the press, Tim had faced the immense task of regaining the devotion of the public and more importantly, the investors. He held several press talks stating InGen's complete reformation and strived to create far simpler biological products, such as multicoloured vegetables for infants which had become largely successful throughout the country. When they continued churning out products that bore no resemblance to their previous endeavors it seemed InGen had been forgiven. But Tim felt that he would never live down the fact that his company had spawned the so called "InGen islands" which were now almost legendary around the globe. Despite the fact that no incidents had been reported to the world at large as of late, Tim had always felt that there was something that the Costa Rican government was hiding. The aberrant forms that had previously appeared along the west coast of the Americas had ceased. But recently Tim had been receiving reports from Costa Rican officials; several reptilian creatures had washed up within the past three weeks. Tim had acted immediately; he was going to get to the bottom of what was going on. Now, as he lent against the rusting vent he once again glanced at his Rolex, his hands flitting about restlessly. A Costa Rican representative was coming to inform him of the situation; Tim had sent his private chopper to collect him from the airport. And then one of the men who had stationed themselves at the helipad called out, "Mr. Murphy, the chopper has arrived". Tim stood up straight and looked into the rusted metal of the vent he had lent on, trying to see his reflection. Slowly the deep thumping of a helicopter drifted closer over the howl of the wind. He smiled gently as he approached the glowing red lights of the pad.
The helicopter banked sharply over the New York skyline, swooping down upon a large skyscraper building entitled "InGen Headquarters". The rotors whirred loudly as the pilot positioned the streamlined Agusta A109 over the large helipad below. Manuel Cerona peered out of the Perspex window and gripped his leather briefcase tighter as the Agusta swayed in the wind. The pilot relaxed the collective stick and they slowly dropped towards the pad below. The landing gear creaked gently as they touched down, the pilot sagging forwards onto the panel. Two men dressed in InGen overall uniforms approached carefully, crouching low to avoid the spinning blades. As the rotors whined and slowed one of them threw open the door and said in a cheerful voice "Good evening ambassador, welcome to International Genetics Headquarters!" Manuel smiled warmly and thanked the man as he passed over his briefcase to the other man who took it immediately. As the rotors faded and died he unfolded gracefully from the chopper and looked around the rooftop. "Please, this way", the second man said, guiding Manuel forwards. "Ah, ambassador", called Tim Murphy warmly, extending his hand. Manuel shook it politely, excited despite himself at meeting a member of Isla Nublar incident. Tim gestured towards the door and they both approached it followed briskly by the two InGen employees.
A few minutes later they both entered Tim's large administrator's office, which was spotlessly clean and was decorated extravagantly, with oak paneling and delicate cabinets containing expensive bottles of alcohol. Large comfortable armchairs and sofas sat in front of the window which spanned the entire outer wall, giving a magnificent view of New York. Manuel seated himself in one of the squishy armchairs, pulling a large folder laden with papers from his briefcase and settling them on his lap. "Whisky, Mr. Cerona?" asked Tim from beside one of the cabinets, pouring himself a generous amount of Jack Daniels.
Manuel considered for a moment before saying in a grateful voice "I'd be delighted Mr. Murphy, I've traveled a long way." Tim handed him another glass and moved across the room to sit on one of the large leather sofas. He took a long draught of whisky and sighed appreciatively. After a few seconds, composing himself, he spoke.
"Let us be frank ambassador. Something is happening concerning InGen's…property, and your government is as eager as ever to sweep any evidence of it under the carpet. Word has reached my ears that is has something to do with the, ah, aberrant forms as it has been so colourfully named. Correct me if I'm wrong of course but was there not an investigation into a discovery made by several people down in the Cabo Blanco area? Involving possibly", Tim's eyes narrowed, "a death". Manuel froze at Tim's last words, his glass lifted halfway to his mouth. Despite the pleasantness of Tim's voice, the atmosphere of the conversation had just changed rapidly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, setting his glass on a side table. He brushed his suit absent mindedly, looking hard at Tim. When he spoke his voice had lost its warmth, it was harder, tenser. He took out various papers from the folder that was on his lap and glanced over them before talking.
"There have been several appearances of aberrant forms lately. Obviously they were all destroyed as they have been before. But this time there have been some worrying developments." When Tim's expression become enquiring Manuel spoke again. "A disease. Its appearance is directly correlative to the presence of one of these carcasses. We can only surmise that it has arisen within the dinosaur population on your islands. Several civilians have discovered this and the Costa Rican government has done their best to quell it before it got out of hand—"
"You mean you killed them?" Tim interrupted.
Manuel stared at him hard for a few moments, and then nodded his head fractionally.
"You mean to tell me that the Costa Rican government is committing murder in order to keep this from getting out?" asked Tim incredulously.
"You should know by now that any government will stop at nothing to ensure the continued integrity of its economy. Even if there must be certain…sacrifices along the way", he said calmly.
"Aren't you worried about this death getting out? Family? Friends?—"
"Believe me Mr. Murphy when I say that nobody knew where that man was."
"And if I were to…let it slip?"
"Then our situation would become complicated."
"I see", murmured Tim. "And what does the Costa Rican government plan to do about this little fiasco that seems to be unfolding here?"
"As you must understand I'm hesitant about going into details about it but ideally we would love to simply destroy your islands, but we are refraining from doing so for several reasons. Firstly, doing so would evidently attract the attention of the world to what is going on. Secondly, the disease is completely unknown to modern science. We have no idea of its capability to spread, so far we've only been able to gather scattered reports of its symptoms. It seems that it effectively prevents blood from circulating around the brain properly; eventually you get a blood clot. At least, that's what I understand of it. But I must ask, was there ever any report of this disease in the archives of your grandfather's work?"
"Possibly", answered Tim lightly. The truth was that there had been outbreaks of a mysterious prion disease throughout the production of the dinosaurs.
"Then there may have been a possible cure, or clues to which one may be procured on these islands?" asked Manuel, sitting up straighter.
"There is a possibility", said Tim in a determinedly indifferent manner.
"Then an expedition must be mounted to recover this material", said Manuel, standing up and emptying his glass.
"I am afraid ambassador that I cannot allow that. For you see, I am certain that once you find what you are looking for you will simply continue with destroying my islands."
"Your damn right we will", shouted Manuel.
"I promised my grandfather that I would protect his creations at all costs, if anything is to be done it will be done my way!" said Tim, also standing up. "If there is to be any kind of expedition to my islands then I will be organizing it. But of course it is in our best interests to be secretive about this. It would be…unfortunate if our situation were to become common knowledge to the world at large. But, please understand me when I say that I am willing to accept those consequences if the Costa Rican government sets foot upon my property." They glared at each other for a moment, and then Manuel spoke in a clearly agitated voice.
"You understand that you won't be able to stop the Costa Rican government forever."
"I am sure that you will not be able to intervene without attracting the attention of the public", Tim sneered. Tim picked up his glass and drained it, closing his eyes and the liquid trickled down his throat.
"And now ambassador it is time for you to leave", said Tim in a voice that had an obviously forced pleasantness about it, "my chopper is waiting to transport you back to the airport. I appreciate you coming down." Manuel glared at Tim for a moment longer, then picked up his briefcase, deposited his folder and turned on his heel, marching towards the door. Tim turned to look out of the large window as the door snapped shut behind him. Well, he thought, at least he had gotten to the bottom of what was going on. And now he knew what had to be done, to uphold the last wish of John Hammond Tim would have to return to a place that he swore to himself that he would never venture again.