"Is it dead?" Guillaume inquired.

"I shot him in the head and in the heart," Owen replied dryly, thinking that the Frenchman's question was a bit silly. "I hope it is anyway, for its own good and ours..."

"You think it can play dead? Like a possum?" Claire asked the WDMC director with scepticism. "I'm in a good position to know that the Indominus loved dirty tricks but come on..."

"If it plays dead, I suggest that we give it the Oscar for best actor and that Marion Cotillard take some lessons with it," Guillaume declared in a deadpan tone.

"There's only one way to be sure…" Owen said.

From his trouser pocket he took out a knife which he had found in Guillaume's bag.

"Don't break my knife please..." the latter asked.

Owen took the keys to the cage and opened it.

"If that thing moves, shoot…" he asked his betrothed and the Frenchman.

The keeper entered the cage, pivoted the Indoraptor's neck and slit its throat with the knife before stabbing its chest and abdomen. More blood flowed. In the highly unlikely event that the predator was still alive, it would be so weakened that it couldn't get up or even attack Owen.

The latter looked at Guillaume.

"You're reassured now?"

"Yes…"

The WDMC director sighed.

"We now have a three hundred kilos body on our hands. What do we do with it?" he asked.

"We can't leave it like this. Scavengers would show up immediately," the Raptor Whisperer said. "And I'm not talking about coyotes and crows..."

"We have to destroy it," Claire concluded. "How? A fire? Too visible and too risky. A shredder? Good luck finding one. Acid? Too risky too, we would risk doing the same kind of stupidities as Jesse in Breaking Bad… A pig farm? We'll have to get out of the estate. Unless…"

The fallen park director' eyes lit up.

"We've got better than pigs and inside the estate moreover," she said.

"The predators," her betrothed guessed. "How would we enter the camp?"

"We don't need to enter it. Part of the perimeter is not fenced," Guillaume pointed out. "By the enclosure in the northeast corner."

"Miriam and Pierce's," Claire recalled.

"Let's hope they're hungry," Owen said.

They cleared the driveway and loaded the three unconscious and tied InGen employees into the back of the truck. Claire volunteered to watch them and the Indoraptor's body, and her two accomplices closed the doors of the truck before settling in the cabin. They then drove towards the basin and the acrocanthosaurs' enclosure.

At the estate's southeast gate, Sophie De Mafart and Christian Besson, the one who had brought the briefcase, were waiting near their vehicle. It was parked on the side of the road, a few meters from the gate itself, manned by two sentries. De Mafart turned towards the interior of the estate, hoping to see, between the trees and the bushes, the headlights of the truck in the fading light of dusk. She looked at the time on her phone: It was eight forty-five. The truck was five minutes late.

Her mission was soon coming to an end. They still had to transport the Indoraptor to the San Francisco Bay Area and put it on a cargo plane bound for France. They would land at the Orange air base, in the Vaucluse, and from there, a transport helicopter would take them at night to Gévaudan, to Mont-Sorcier, a top-secret site. Once the Indoraptor would be in its new home, Sophie would be called back to Paris, where she would be congratulated and rewarded by the head of the DGSE, the Minister of the Interior and even the President. She could imagine the pride she would feel, almost touch it…

Nearby, one of the sentries had contacted the truck driver to ask if they had left and if so, why they were late. He got an answer and listening, the sentry nodded. He then put his radio back on his belt, not realizing that the voice that had spoken to him was not the driver's but Owen's, as radio static greatly hampered the distinction of voices.

"So, what's going on?" De Mafart asked the guard in an annoyed tone.

"The path between the manor and the basin is strewn with obstacles. They are clearing them out. They should be here in ten minutes."

"Okay…" the DGSE agent said a little coldly, annoyed by the delay.

They continued to wait.

Following the directions of Guillaume, who had just gotten out, Owen gently turned the truck and when it was perpendicular to the road, he stopped it and turned off the engine. With the end of the truck almost above the top of the slope, the Raptor Whisperer hadn't dared to reverse any further, as he and the WDMC director still had to climb into the back of the truck. While they approached its doors, the two men looked down the slope and beyond. Between the branches and the trees' foliage, they could distinguish the lights of the Camp, and listening attentively, they heard more or less distant voices, probably those of guards or keepers busy by the enclosures. As discreetly as possible, Owen and Guillaume opened the doors of the truck and climbed in before joining Claire in the cage.

"We're lucky it's a female," she said. "I don't dare to think about the male's privates. Imagine that it has the leopard's spines and is divided in two like those of snakes and lizards."

"The thing would be a double Mortensen," Owen imagined.

"Morgenstern. Not Mortensen," his betrothed corrected.

Together, the couple and Guillaume dragged the Indoraptor's body out, panting in their effort.

" 'Tain, il pèse son poids," the WDMC director huffed.

When the dead predator reached the edge of the truck and threatened to tip over, Owen looked at his two companions and began a countdown:

"One... Two..."

The three of them pushed the Indoraptor with all their strength and it fell off the trailer, falling heavily onto the leaves and dirt before beginning to be dragged down by its weight and sliding down the slope, straight up to the cliff and the acrocanthosaurs' paddock below. The trio climbed out of the trailer and cautiously moved down the slope as well. Lower down, the large black body suddenly stopped, held back by a rocky outcrop only a few feet from the ledge.

"Shit…" Guillaume swore.

He and the couple covered a few more yards and then, once near the Indoraptor and the ledge, hid behind some logs to observe the acrocanthosaurs' paddock and the basin. They could see all of the carnivores paddocks and their view extended to the two large central enclosures, those of the apatosaurs and hadrosaurs. Although the majority had already been sold, the animals were still there, as transporting them to their new homes required at least a few days of organization, and the only ones who could leave the estate in the coming hours were those of small size. With the auction, InGen Security had spread its men present at the estate rather than reinforcing them, and thus, the trio noted that the nearest watchtowers were unoccupied, as their usual sentries were likely been sent to patrol on the estate's limits.

The trio finally focused on the enclosure they were overlooking. The two acrocanthosaurs slept while no one was on the platform at the top of the wall. If they had to act, it was now.

They crouched down, came out of hiding, and crawled to the Indoraptor. Leaning over the edge of the cliff, Owen saw that nothing would prevent the hybrid's body from falling into the enclosure. He went to join his betrothed and Guillaume and together they pushed Elsa over the outcrop and towards the ledge. The Indoraptor began to slide again, and Owen reached out his arm to hold his girlfriend.

"Okay, I think we're good," he said.

Elsa reached the edge of the cliff and toppled over. The couple and the WDMC director approached the edge and saw the dead creature lying at the base of the cliff. On the other side of the enclosure, the acrocanthosaurs were still sleeping.

"It would be great if they could wake up…" Guillaume grumbled.

It was then that the couple began to call the predators:

"Pierce! Miriam! Dinner is ready!"

Hearing them, Pierce opened his eyes, looked up, and sniffed the air. Picking up the scent, he turned towards the cliff and seeing the Indoraptor's body, the Acrocanthosaurus craned his neck forward. Intrigued, he continued to sniffle.

"Que c'est mon pépère? C'est du manger?" Guillaume told him, speaking to him in the same way as he would have to a big friendly dog.

Pierce got up and disturbed in her sleep, Miriam woke up too. The male Acrocanthosaurus walked over to the Indoraptor and leaned down to sniff it for a long time, running the tip of his snout all over the body. Behind him, Miriam looked up the cliff, watching the three hooded humans with interest. The WDMC director grew impatient.

"Come on! Eat! We've got other fish to fry!"

Pierce bit off one of Elsa's legs and tore off a large chunk of her thigh before swallowing it, like someone tasting an unknown food. Noting that the Indoraptor had a perfectly correct taste, very close to the chickens it was fed when it was small or to some of the animals it may have hunted in a post-apocalyptic Isla Nublar, he leaned again to, this time, bite the tail at its base and tear it off. But while it protruded from its mouth like a giant black spaghetti, Pierce was brutally jostled by Miriam who, in the blink of an eye, closed her jaws on the Indoraptor's neck and dragged the body to a corner of the enclosure, opposite of Pierce.

"It was pretty easy actually…" Owen said while watching the acrocanthosaurs tear the Indoraptor to pieces.

"A bit too easy...," Claire added.

"Well, the case of the Indoraptor itself is settled! Dossier suivant!" Guillaume said.

"Yeah, let's go pay Wu a little visit…" the fallen park director said grimly.

They got back in the truck, back on the path leading to the secret tunnel and after locking Maya, Alf and the driver in the cage and throwing the key away, the trio headed for the tunnel. Soon, Guillaume pointed at the couple the wall in which the tunnel's entrance was concealed but instead of approaching it, he led them through the vegetation on their left.

"We're not taking the tunnel?" Claire asked.

"I'm afraid it only opens from the inside," Guillaume replied. "Let's try the old factory's unloading platform. The buyers are gone, and so are their acquisitions... The place should be less guarded now."

A few minutes later, two guards entered the path, following it towards the tunnel entrance.

"What the hell are they doing?" One of them wondered. "They've been standing there for more than half an hour! They should have finished clearing the way!"

"Especially since we did that yesterday with the guys," his colleague said. "Don't tell me that Dwayne feared that small branches would puncture his wheels?"

Following the curve described by the path, it was then that they saw the truck's headlights and soon enough they discovered it was immobilized. Seeing no one in the cabin, they got worried and watched the trees on either side.

"Dwayne? Dwayne?! Where are you, Dwayne?!" they called.

With no one answering them, they drew their tasers and cautiously walked around the vehicle before slowly opening the back doors. Peering through the doorway with his flashlight, one of the guards saw Dwayne, Alf, and Maya lying in the Indoraptor's cage.

"What the…?"

His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed that the animal was not there, that it seemed to have vanished into thin air, but the surprise gave way to fear when he saw the trail of blood between him and the cage. He quickly turned to his colleague.

"Call the others. Tell them to bring pliers. We've got a big problem!"

"What?!" Mills exclaimed furiously.

The guards had just informed him of their disturbing discovery. Torres, who had seen him rush out of the marquee after checking his phone screen, joined him outside.

"What's going on, Elijah?" he inquired.

"The convoy. It was ambushed," the businessman replied gravely.

"Inside the estate?!" The director of InGen Security exclaimed, alarmed.

Mills nodded.

"The Ind..."

He didn't finished, looked around to make sure no one was listening, then resumed:

"Elsa is missing," he added quietly. "Someone took her away."

"Shit!"

Torres turned toward the marquee entrance.

"Edward. Not a word to Susan," the manager of the Lockwood Foundation begged. "At least not until we have more information..."

The director of InGen Security nodded.

"I'm calling a car," he said before pulling out his phone.

He asked his subordinates to bring a car near the tents and then began to give orders:

"… Reinforce the patrols, search every vehicle entering or leaving the estate."

Their car arrived and as they got in, the driver asked for the destination.

"To the path between the basin and the tunnel's entrance," Torres commanded.

Shortly after the car left, Kenneth Wheatley moved closer to where it had stopped and looked at the manor. When Torres exited the marquee shortly after Mills, the mercenary leader had been intrigued. Unbeknownst to them, he had listened to them and knew that they were going further north. Wheatley walked away from the marquees and bypassing the manor, he first followed the path which led to the bowl.

At the same time, Susan Lynton and the southern gate's guards received the following message from Torres:

Small setback for E transfer. Truck has a flat tire.

Sniffling, Iris closed her suitcase and put it by the door of her room in the southern wing, on the third floor, not far from the stairs that led to Benjamin's door. Her luggage packed, the housekeeper sat up on her bed, sighed and wiped her eyes, still struggling to believe that she was being kicked out of the manor. Although she was seventy-five years old, Iris would have seen herself working at the Lockwoods until her health no longer allowed it, in order to be with Maisie as long as possible. Alas, that was no longer possible and she didn't even have family or friends to turn to, while nursing homes were expensive. If she decided to go live in one the next day, she would have bet that she would not have a penny left by the time of her death. And what was she going to do while waiting for it? Watching TV or doing crossword puzzles all day? No, and ideally, she would have liked to spend her last days in a small house in the country, tending to a garden, not passively withering in a nursing home in the company of strangers.

Iris wanted to work for a few more years, in order to save a little more money and ensure a decent retirement. If she managed to find a simple job as a cleaner, she would have considered herself lucky.

She set her alarm clock for the next morning. As Eli wanted, she would no longer be there at dawn. She planned to go to Eureka first and look for a hotel to stay in while waiting.

Desiring to see Maisie one last time, the house keeper then left her room and went to that of Benjamin's granddaughter, walking slowly down the hall, as if to immerse herself in the place's atmosphere one last time.

Slowly opening the door, she saw that the young girl was already asleep. Iris took a step into the bedroom, opened her mouth, but when she wanted to wake Maisie, she stopped. The poor thing was exhausted and with her grandfather hospitalized, maybe it was best that she didn't say a real goodbye to her in order to not overwhelm her even more. And if someone saw them talking and reported the conversation to Eli, Iris feared he might be able to carry out his threat or worse. Maisie, no longer knowing who to trust, would be devastated and Eli would take advantage of her weakness to pose as a saving figure. He would then have total control over her and without outside help, Maisie could hardly escape his clutches. Iris knew she had to choose the lesser evil and she closed the door.

Sick at heart, the housekeeper returned to her room and went to bed. Before crawling into bed, she looked out the window and saw the lights of the marquees.

Originally, she should have worked until quite late in the night, in order to supervise the employees responsible for cleaning after the evening, but having felt unfit to work that day given Benjamin's worrying state, she had delegated her tasks to Phyllis, one of her subordinates. If Eli didn't hire a new house keeper, he was probably going to put her in charge of taking care of Maisie.

After switching off her bedside lamp, Iris thought. She might leave the manor, but that doesn't mean she'll give up on Maisie. She couldn't leave her alone with Eli. But how to help her without him knowing? Or at least, before he realizes something and can act? Iris considered using some of the employees as intermediaries, asking them to pass letters to Maisie, but it would be risky. If Eli intercepted the mail or if he made sure of their good cooperation willingly or unwillingly... Iris considered to seek the help of people from outside the manor and the foundation, people to whom she would talk about Eli's secret business. But who?

The police? Eli could slip bribes; Mrs. Dearing and Mr. Grady? Benjamin seemed to trust them, but so did Eli! Moreover, she desperately needs allies given her current situation and she may not want to get involved in this in order to not alienate Eli, if their agreement still holds; Mr Vuillier? He got along well with Maisie during his stay, he is competent and relatively high-ranking in addition to being good at heart even if he is a little bit nosy. But it's actually perfect! I need to talk to him about it! He is my only hope.

Having turned south, Guillaume, Claire and Owen passed not far from where he had been subdued by the couple more than two hours earlier and they soon returned within sight of the old factory and its parking lot. Like the WDMC director had predicted, the buyers' vehicles and vans were gone, as were the armed guards. The loading platform was deserted, well almost. On it, three people were sitting and talking while smoking. Whereas one wore the uniform of an estate guard, the other two wore lab coats, using them as makeshift coats in the evening's chill. Guillaume, Claire and Owen stopped and watched them.

The guard, a blonde woman with tanned skin and of average height, asked:

"What has big ears and delivers the mail?"

"Your postman?" replied one of the scientists, a tall man with long dark hair tied in a ponytail.

"Almost, a postelephant."

"Nonsense," the other scientist said. "Your joke sucks. You're really a blonde Vanessa…"

Having decided on a plan of approach, the couple and the WDMC director took action.

As their driver just stopped the car, Mills and Torres got out and approached the truck. Beside him, Maya and her two companions were slowly regaining consciousness while the guards asked them what happened.

"Who did this to you?"

"Owen…Claire Dearing…" the trainer articulated with difficulty.

"Dearing and Grady?!" Mills exclaimed in dismay. "I thought they were locked up in the old cabin!"

He approached the ex-soldier.

"Maya," he said softly. "Are you sure it was them?"

The trainer nodded briskly.

"There was a third person," she added.

Torres turned to the guards.

"Call their jailers!"

They obeyed and a few seconds later, Valentine Taylor answered them. The director of InGen Security took the radio.

"Mr. Taylor? Torres is speaking. Are Mrs. Dearing and Mr. Grady still locked up?"

"Affirmative," the Texan lied.

Torres moved the radio away and turned to Maya.

"One of you is lying…" he said in annoyance.

He brought the radio back to his mouth.

"Can I speak to the guard Mills sent to you?" he asked Valentine.

"She is currently… unwell."

InGen Security's director sneered.

"Unwell you say? We'll call back in a few minutes. Mills wants to tell her something."

"Okay."

"That will be all, thank you."

He passed the radio back to the guard, motioned for him to turn it off and give the following orders to two others:

"Go to the cabin. If Mr. Taylor is telling fibs, put him under arrest."

"Yes, sir."

The two guards left, leaving the path a little bit further to cut through the vegetation and reach the cabin as quickly as possible.

From the path, another guard came running and hailed Mills and Torres:

"Sirs!"

They turned to him.

"Yes?" They asked in an annoyed tone.

"We.. We found it," the guard stammered. "At the acrocanthosaurs' enclosure…"

Hiding behind a nearby tree, south of the path, Wheatley watched Torres, Mills, Maya, Alf, and nearly all of the guards get back into their vehicles and head for the basin. But he did not follow them, contenting himself with observing the guard in charge of guarding the truck. The mercenary leader turned his head to the left, towards the entrance of the tunnel he had been told about. He then took out his cell phone and wrote a message he sent right away. A few seconds later, he got an answer:

Copy that. We're entering.

Wheatley briefly turned to look at the wood behind him.

To the south, beyond the basin and the village of caravans and prefabs, at the edge of the estate, his men were breaking through a gap in the perimeter fence. Dressed in black and hooded, the mercenaries were hard to make out in the last dim light of twilight. While his subordinates, about forty men or so, entered the estate, Mickey sent a message to a phone number different from Wheatley's.