Robin Cook: Chromosome 6

“They sure are human-looking,” Bertram said, interrupting Kevin’s musing. “Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what they are thinking.”

“Or worry what their offspring are capable of thinking,” Kevin said.

Bertram glanced at Kevin. His black eyebrows arched more than usual. “I don’t follow,” he said.

“Listen, Bertram,” Kevin said. “I came over here specifically to talk to you about the project.”

“How marvelously convenient,” Bertram said. “I was going to call you today and have you come over to see the progress we’ve made. And here you are. Come on!”

Bertram pulled open the nearest door to the corridor, motioned for Kevin to follow, and set out with long strides. Kevin had to hurry to catch up.

“Progress?” Kevin questioned. Although he admired Bertram, the man’s tendency toward manic behavior was disconcerting. Under the best of circumstances Kevin would have had trouble discussing what was on his mind. Just broaching the issue was difficult, and Bertram was not helping. In fact, he was making it impossible.

“You bet’cha progress!” Bertram said enthusiastically. “We solved the technical problems with the grid on the island. It’s on line now as you’ll see. We can locate any individual animal with the push of a button. It’s just in time, I might add. With twelve square miles and almost a hundred individuals, it was fast becoming impossible with the handheld trackers. Part of the problem is that we didn’t anticipate the creatures would split into two separate sociological groups. We were counting on their being one big happy family.”

“Bertram,” Kevin said between breaths, marshaling his courage. “I wanted to talk to you because I’ve been anxious…”

“It’s no wonder,” Bertram said as Kevin paused. “I’d be anxious, too, if I put in the hours that you put in without any form of relaxation or release. Hell, sometimes I see the light in your lab as late as midnight when the wife and I come out of the rec center after a movie. We’ve even commented on it. We’ve invited you to dinner at our house on several occasions to draw you out a little. How come you never come?”

Kevin groaned inwardly. This was not the conversation he wanted to get into.

“All right, you don’t have to answer,” Bertram said. “I don’t want to add to your anxiety. We’d enjoy having you over, so if you change your mind, give us a call. But what about the gym or the rec center or even the pool? I’ve never seen you in any of those places. Being stuck here in this hothouse part of Africa is bad enough, but making yourself a prisoner of your lab or house just makes it worse.”

“I’m sure you are right,” Kevin said. “But…”

“Of course I’m right,” Bertram said. “But there is another side to this that I should warn you about. People are talking.”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asked. “Talking about what?”

“People are saying that you’re aloof because you think you are superior,” Bertram said. “You know, the academician with all his fancy degrees from Harvard and MIT. It’s easy for people to misinterpret your behavior, especially if they are envious.”

“Why would anybody be envious of me?” Kevin asked. He was shocked.

“Very easy,” Bertram said. “You obviously get special treatment from the home office. You get a new car every two years, and your quarters are as good as Siegfried Spallek’s, the manager for the entire operation. That’s bound to raise some eyebrows, particularly from people like Cameron McIvers who was stupid enough to bring his whole damn family out here. Plus you got that NMR machine. The hospital administrator and I have been lobbying for an MRI since day one.”

“I tried to talk them out of giving me the house,” Kevin said. “I said it was too big.”

“Hey, you don’t have to defend your perks to me,” Bertram said. “I understand because I’m privy to your project. But very few other people are, and some of them aren’t happy. Even Spallek doesn’t quite understand although he definitely likes participating in the bonus your project has brought those of us who are lucky enough to be associated.”

Before Kevin could respond, Bertram was stopped for a series of corridor consultations. He and Bertram had been traversing the veterinary hospital. Kevin used the interruption to ponder Bertram’s comments. Kevin had always thought of himself as being rather invisible. The idea that he’d engendered animosities was hard to comprehend.

“Sorry,” Bertram offered after the final consult. He pushed through the last of the double doors. Kevin followed.

Passing his secretary, Martha, he picked up a small stack of phone messages. He leafed through them as he waved Kevin into his inner office. He closed his door.

“You’re going to love this,” Bertram said, tossing the messages aside. He sat down in front of his computer and showed Kevin how to bring up a graphic of Isla Francesca. It was divided into a grid. “Now give me the number of whatever creature you want to locate.”

“Mine,” Kevin said. “Number one.”

“Coming up,” Bertram said. He entered the information and clicked. Suddenly a red blinking light appeared on the map of the island. It was north of the limestone escarpment but south of the stream that had been humorously dubbed Rio Diviso. The stream bisected the six-by-two-mile island lengthwise, flowing east to west. In the center of the island was a pond they’d called Lago Hippo for obvious reasons.

“Pretty slick, huh?” Bertram said proudly.

Kevin was captivated. It wasn’t so much by the technology, although that interested him. It was more because the red light was blinking exactly where he would have imagined the smoke to have been coming from.

Bertram got up and pulled open a file drawer. It was filled with small handheld electronic devices that looked like miniature notepads with small LCD screens. An extendable antenna protruded from each.

“These work in a similar fashion,” Bertram said. He handed one to Kevin. “We call them locators. Of course, they are portable and can be taken into the field. It makes retrieval a snap compared to the struggles we had initially.”

Kevin played with the keyboard. With Bertram’s help, he soon had the island graphic with the red blinking light displayed. Bertram showed how to go from successive maps with smaller and smaller scales until the entire screen represented a square fifty feet by fifty feet.

“Once you are that close, you use this,” Bertram said. He handed Kevin an instrument that looked like a flashlight with a keypad. “On this you type in the same information. What it does is function as a directional beacon. It pings louder the closer it comes to pointing at the animal you’re looking for. When there is a clear visual sighting, it emits a continuous sound. Then all you have to do is use the dart gun.”

“How does this tracking system operate?” Kevin asked. Having been immersed in the biomolecular aspects of the project, he’d not paid any attention to the logistics. He’d toured the island five years previously at the commencement of the venture, but that had been it. He’d never inquired about the nuts and bolts of everyday operation.

“It’s a satellite system,” Bertram said. “I don’t pretend to know the details. Of course each animal has a small microchip with a long-lasting nickel cadmium battery embedded just under the derma. The afferent signal from the microchip is minuscule, but it’s picked up by the grid, magnified, and transmitted by microwave.”

Kevin started to give the devices back to Bertram, but Bertram waved them away. “Keep them,” he said. “We’ve got plenty of others.”

“But I don’t need them,” Kevin protested.