Z. Raptor (4 page)

“Yes,” said Mr. Adlar simply. “Geneflow accelerated the evolution of the original genetic pattern of a
Tyrannosaurus rex
in a very controlled way.”

“Right. They evolved ol' Rex all the way froma T to a Z, right?” Chen stretched. “The project was codenamed Z. rex. . . .”

I called him Zed,
thought Adam.

“Josephs and Hayden tried to force me to help them control the Z. rex's thoughts and actions,” said Mr. Adlar, “using a system I'd actually designed for a new kind of video game—”

“Ultra-Reality,” Adam put in. “It's like you
feel
the game. It turns your thoughts into computer code and translates code back into brain waves. You're right in there.”

“Intense,” drawled Chen without much enthusiasm.

“They held me prisoner for weeks,” said Mr. Adlar. “And to buy my obedience, they threatened to kill my son.”

“Assuming what you say is true, Bill,” said Chen, “why in the world would they choose prehistoric wildlife to work with? It doesn't make sense.”

“On the contrary,” Marrs said, “I imagine it was the only viable option.” He leaned forward in his chair. “We know certain species of dinosaur were the ancestors of modern birds. With cells from both animals available for study, you would have a start point and an end point. With enough computers to do the number crunching, it ought to be possible to map out sixty-six million years of genetic evolution. With that information available, experts could divert the natural evolution of the dinosaur along
un
natural pathways, developing the physical makeup of the original species in whatever way they desired.” He nodded to himself. “As a scientific achievement, it's incredible.”

“It's wrong,” Adam said quietly. “We weren't meant to play with evolution like that.”

“What really worries me,” said Mr. Adlar, “is that the Z. rex was only the prototype of a living terror weapon. Geneflow were aiming to breed a whole army of them as part of a plan to create a new world order, or something.” Mr. Adlar shook his head. “It sounds crazy, like science fiction, I know. But Samantha Josephs certainly spoke of performing other experiments, of developing other types of highly evolved dinosaurs.” He looked at Chen. “And you don't disbelieve me, do you? However much you might want to.”

“You said you'd gathered ‘intelligence' yourself,” Adam recalled. “What did you mean?”

“I've been investigating Josephs too,” Chen admitted, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. “For instance—Bill, did you know that she used to work for your current employers, Mindcorp?”

“Yes,” Mr. Adlar admitted. “She spent a couple of months with them last year. I knew that.”

Adam looked at his dad in surprise. “You did?”

“That's partly why I applied for a position there,” he said. “Josephs specializes in stealing secret research from her employers. I wanted to know what she might have taken from Mindcorp, in case it cast light on Geneflow's other plans.”

“And does it?”

“Not that I can see.” Mr. Adlar shrugged. “The team at Mindcorp are creating the most detailed and accurate computer model of the human brain in existence. It'll help us understand the way the brain stores data and memory, how best to treat diseases that target the mind.... Nothing to do with genetic evolution.” He looked at Chen suspiciously. “What's the FBI's angle on this investigation?”

Chen sucked in his cheeks. “I work out of the field office in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Back in August, we received reports of a big explosion in the Fort Ponil region.”

I was there,
thought Adam with a nervous glance at his dad.
Geneflow blew up their own base, trying to cover their tracks when they relocated to Edinburgh.

“Our first thought was that this was some kind of terrorist activity,” Chen went on. “An accident in a bomb-making factory, maybe. We looked into it . . . started excavating the site. By October we'd uncovered a secret laboratory complex built right into the mountainside. The place was a wreck, but it was pretty clear we hadn't found ourselves a typical terrorist setup. There were corpses—mostly thugs-for-hire and mercenaries, but some scientists too.” He swallowed hard, seemingly shaken by the memory. “Some bodies had been crushed by an incredible pressure. Others were chewed on like beef jerky, as if by some massive animal. Forensics thought we were playing a joke. . . .”

No joke,
thought Adam.
That was Zed, striking back at his creators.

“Anyway, no leads on the next of kin for those bodies we could identify,” Chen went on. “And most of the computers had been smashed or had all data wiped. But the forensics guys managed to scrape out a few names for investigation—Geneflow's, yours and Adam's, the Science and Ethics Association, Sam Josephs, this Z. rex thing—and a few notes about something called the Alta-Vita Unit.” He looked from one Adlar to the other. “That name mean anything to you?”

Mr. Adlar shrugged. “Never heard it before.
Vita
is Latin for ‘life,' isn't it?”

“And
alta
means ‘high,'” Marrs broke in. “
Ad alta,
for example, in Latin, would mean ‘to the summit.'”

“The summit of life?” mused Mr. Adlar.

“Well, anyway, I cross-referenced the names on the central database, and your anonymous report came up,” said Chen. “Aside from Dr. Marrs's ethics committee, you're the only person linked to the Z. rex project I've been able to trace.” He shook his head wearily. “As an organization, it looks like Geneflow keeps itself and its employees well concealed.”

And everything else,
Adam thought.

“Then this video gets sent,” Chen said. “A new lead.”

“Who sent the e-mail?” asked Mr. Adlar.

“The sender was ‘LisaBee1972,'” said Chen. “That e-mail account was set up six years ago by Lisa Brannigan, thirty-eight years old, resident of North Carolina. Barmaid in some spit-'n'-sawdust joint. No kids or close family. She had a husband, but he was executed by lethal injection in September of this year after eight years on death row.” He paused. “Seems Lisa disappeared from home around the time of his execution. She's on the missing persons list. No one knows where she went, and no one's heard from her since.”

“Apart from me,” said Marrs, polishing his glasses on his scarf. “Because it seems the woman in the video is Lisa Brannigan.”

Chen pushed a photocopied picture across the table. It showed a pale, friendly looking woman behind a bar. Adam felt a chill as he remembered the same face in the video, terror etched bone-deep on sunburned skin.

“What are you going to do?” he said simply.

“That is still to be decided,” Marr said. “But our priority is to build our case against Geneflow.”

“I'll say.” Chen looked down at the table. “The sooner I know what's going down with Josephs and Geneflow and their messing with wildlife, the sooner I'll start sleeping nights again.”

I wouldn't be so sure.
Adam thought of the red monstrosity rasping at the camera and shuddered.
I wouldn't bank on sleeping ever, ever again.

A
dam stood in the dark room, his heart crawling slowly up his throat, listening to the pound of giant footsteps.
He's coming. Any moment now . . .

With a splintering crash, the walls were torn apart, and a huge, dark green monster stood illuminated in the glare of sudden, sweeping spotlights. Its jaws creaked open and choked up a syllable:

“Zed,” came the guttural grunt.

Adam took in the beast's appearance in scaly snatches. Legs as big as a man. Questing claws raking the air. A brute, massive head on a writhing neck, balancing the long tail that tapered behind. The monster opened its mouth and roared. Adam could actually feel the hot wetness of its stinking breath, saw the dark stains on its teeth and claws. He held still as the head pushed forward and back, unblinking eyes swept over him. Then he reached out a hand and gingerly pressed it against the side of the creature's cold, dry cheek. It felt hard and lifeless.

“Zed,” the monster growled again.

Almost,
thought Adam.
It's Dad's most impressive Ultra-Reality rendering yet. But it could never be as real as Zed was.

“Quit,” he said out loud.

The dinosaur before him paused in the spotlights, flickering a fraction. “Are you sure?” came a synthetic female voice inside his head.

“Quit,” Adam said impatiently.

With a chime, the image faded from his eyes and he was back in his dad's room in the hotel, pulling the U-R headset from his face. He listened to his shaky breathing for a while, and the distant thrum of the traffic so many stories below. He was back.

After a detailed discussion of their experiences with Geneflow, Adam and his dad had finally left the UN building close to eleven. Chen had driven them to the hotel in his cab. And although they were in the city that never slept, the pizza plans had been shelved. Neither Adam nor his dad had felt hungry.

To escape the cold knot of fear pulling tighter in his belly, Adam had tried to immerse himself in the worlds of the prototype Ultra-Reality console. Slowly now, he peeled one of the system's sensor pads from his forehead; as he did so, he smudged a tear against his wrist.

The Think-Send system had been based on Adam's own brain waves, and as a result, Zed had picked up something of the way Adam thought and felt. That—and the things they'd lived through—had created a bond between them. For as long as he lived, Adam would never forget the exhilarating fear of flying over the Atlantic while gripping the dinosaur's scaly skin or the sickening horror of watching Zed battle his enemies to the death. The whole scenario could have been taken from some amazing game; no wonder his dad was trying to create a virtual Zed as a demo for U-R. But right now, the only thing that felt real for Adam was the cold, clammy question that refused to leave his head:

“Hey.” His dad came into the room, trying to act breezy. “How's my supergamer doing? Find any more glitches in the Zed demo?”

Adam shook his head and forced a smile. “It's looking great, Dad.”

Mr. Adlar sat down on the bed beside him. “I'm surprised you want to spend any time close to dinosaurs right now.”

“I wouldn't mind having Zed here as a guard dog,” said Adam.

“Housekeeping might object,” said Mr. Adlar wryly.

Adam didn't smile. “I just want to feel safe again.”

“That won't happen until Geneflow is put out of business for good,” Mr. Adlar reminded him. “And maybe now we're getting a little closer to that.”

“Maybe.” Adam crossed to the window—not for the view of skyscrapers, shop fronts and water towers opposite, but for the Advent calendar he'd balanced on the sill. He opened a cardboard flap and pried out the cheap chocolate within. “I keep thinking of that poor woman Lisa, trapped on an island with a whole load of those raptor things.”

“I've been looking up raptors online,” Mr. Adlar said, “trying to see which species Geneflow have taken. The one on the video looked kind of like a velociraptor, but the originals were not much bigger than a turkey. There were larger species, but—”

“Does it matter?” Adam shot back. “We're talking about a Z. raptor. Josephs probably pumped it up to make it nastier.” He stared out over the city. “And now it's being hunted down by Geneflow, just like Zed was.”

“Sounds as though this Loner can speak more easily than Zed could.” Mr. Adlar shook his head. “It makes me sick to think that Geneflow have used my technology to fill its brain. I wish to God I'd never met Sam Josephs.”

Adam regarded his father. “Why didn't you tell me that she used to work at Mindcorp on that giant brain project? You're always saying how important it is that we're honest with each other.”

“I know, Adam. But you're my son, and my instinct is to protect you. You're only thirteen—”

“I'm not
only
anything,” Adam snapped, then took a deep breath. “But I am kind of glad you didn't uproot us from Scotland all over again just 'cause you fancied Christmas in New York.”

Mr. Adlar shook his head. “I never wanted any of this.”

“Can't you wave a magic wand or something? Make everything better?”

His dad considered. “I could maybe wave the phone and have room service make us a late-night burger before bedtime. How would that be?”

Adam forced a smile and nodded. “I suppose I could manage something.”

A sudden thumping on the suite's front door made them both jump.

“Wow, good room service,” Adam joked.

But Mr. Adlar shushed him. “Who knows we're here?” he whispered.

Adam felt an ice-cold chill rivet him to the spot.

“Bill?” came a familiar drawl through the door. “It's okay, it's only me. John Chen.”

With a noisy puff of relief, Mr. Adlar exited into the suite's living room to let him in, Adam just behind him. The door swung open to reveal Chen, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black raincoat.

“What's up, Agent Chen?” said Mr. Adlar coolly. “I thought we were reconvening tomorrow?”

“That's right.” Chen smiled tightly. “We just wanted a word in private.”

“We?” Adam echoed. Then he saw a tall, gaunt man follow Chen inside, a gray cap sitting on his head.

“I asked Doug to join us,” Chen explained, sitting on the couch without waiting to be asked. “He's helping me out on this case. Doug Shanks, this is Bill Adlar. Adam you know already.”