Robin Cook - Chromosome 6

“Come on, Kevin,” Bertram chided playfully while thumping Kevin on the back. The blow was hard enough to knock Kevin forward. “Loosen up! You’re much too serious.” Bertram sat at his desk, picked up his phone messages, and absently began to arrange them in order of importance.

Kevin glanced at the electronic devices in his hands and wondered what he’d do with them. They were obviously costly instruments.

“What was it about your project that you wanted to discuss with me?” Bertram asked. He looked up from his phone messages. “People are always complaining I don’t allow them to get a word in edgewise. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m concerned,” Kevin stammered.

“About what?” Bertram asked. “Things couldn’t be going any better.”

“I’ve seen the smoke again,” Kevin managed.

“What? You mean like that wisp of smoke you mentioned to me last week?” Bertram asked.

“Exactly,” Kevin said. “And from the same spot on the island.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Bertram declared, with a wave of his hand. “We’ve been having electrical storms just about every other night. Lightning starts fires; everybody knows that.”

“As wet as everything is?” Kevin said. “I thought lightning starts fires in savannas during the dry season, not in dank, equatorial rain forests.”

“Lightning can start a fire anyplace,” Bertram said. “Think of the heat it generates. Remember, thunder is nothing but expansion of air from the heat. It’s unbelievable.”

“Well, maybe,” Kevin said. He was unconvinced. “But even if it were to start a fire, would it last?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone,” Bertram commented. “Have you mentioned this crazy idea to anybody else?”

“Only to Raymond Lyons,” Kevin said. “He called me yesterday about another problem.”

“And what was his response?” Bertram asked.

“He told me not to let my imagination run wild,” Kevin said.

“I’d say that was good advice,” Bertram said. “I second the motion.”

“I don’t know,” Kevin said. “Maybe we should go out there and check.”

“No!” Bertram snapped. For a fleeting moment his mouth formed a hard line and his blue eyes blazed. Then his face relaxed. “I don’t want to go to the island except for a retrieval. That was the original plan and by golly we’re sticking with it. As well as everything is going, I don’t want to take any chances. The animals are to remain isolated and undisturbed. The only person who goes there is the pygmy, Alphonse Kimba, and he goes only to pull supplementary food across to the island.”

“Maybe I could go by myself,” Kevin suggested. “It wouldn’t take me long, and then I can stop worrying.”

“Absolutely not!” Bertram said emphatically. “I’m in charge of this part of the project, and I forbid you or anyone else to go on the island.”

“I don’t see that it would make that much difference,” Kevin said. “I wouldn’t bother the animals.”

“No!” Bertram said. “There are to be no exceptions. We want these to be wild animals. That means minimal contact. Besides, with as small as this enclave is, visits will provoke talk, and we don’t want that. And on top of that it could be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Kevin questioned. “I’d stay away from the hippos and the crocs. The bonobos certainly aren’t dangerous.”

“One of the pygmy bearers was killed on the last retrieval,” Bertram said. “We’ve kept that very quiet for obvious reasons.”

“How was he killed?” Kevin asked.

“By a rock,” Bertram said. “One of the bonobos threw a rock.”

“Isn’t that unusual?” Kevin asked.

Bertram shrugged. “Chimps are known to throw sticks on occasion when they are stressed or scared. No, I don’t think it’s unusual. It was probably just a reflex gesture. The rock was there so he threw it.”

“But it’s also aggressive,” Kevin said. “That’s unusual for a bonobo, especially one of ours.”

“All apes will defend their group when attacked,” Bertram said.

“But why should they have felt they were being attacked?” Kevin asked.

“That was the fourth retrieval,” Bertram said. He shrugged again. “Maybe they’re learning what to expect. But whatever the reason, we don’t want anyone going to the island. Spallek and I have discussed this, and he’s in full agreement.”

Bertram got up from the desk and draped an arm over Kevin’s shoulders. Kevin tried to ease himself away, but Bertram held on. “Come on, Kevin! Relax! This kind of wild flight of imagination of yours is exactly what I was talking about earlier. You’ve got to get out of your lab and do something to divert that overactive mind of yours. You’re going stir-crazy and you’re obsessing. I mean, this fire crap is ridiculous. The irony is that the project is going splendidly. How about reconsidering that offer for coming over for dinner? Trish and I would be delighted.”

“I’ll give it serious thought,” Kevin said. He felt distinctly uncomfortable with Bertram’s arm around his neck.

“Good,” Bertram said. He gave Kevin a final pat on his back. “Maybe the three of us could take in a movie as well. There’s a terrific double-feature scheduled for this week. I mean, you ought to take advantage of the fact that we get the latest movies. It’s a big effort on GenSys’s part to fly them in here on a weekly basis. What do you say?”

“I guess,” Kevin said evasively.

“Good,” Bertram said. “I’ll mention it to Trish, she’ll give you a call. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kevin said. He smiled weakly.

Five minutes later, Kevin climbed back into his vehicle more confused than before he’d come to see Bertram Edwards. He didn’t know what to think. Maybe his imagination was working overtime. It was possible, but short of visiting Isla Francesca there was no way of knowing for sure. And on top of that was this new worry that people were feeling resentful towards him.

Braking at the exit of the parking area, Kevin glanced up and down the road in front of the animal complex. He waited for a large truck to rumble by. As he was about to pull out, his eye caught the sight of a man standing motionlessly in the window of the Moroccan headquarters. Kevin couldn’t see him well because of the sunlight reflecting off the glass, but he could tell it was one of the mustached guards. He could also tell the man was watching him intently.

Kevin shivered without exactly knowing why.

The ride back to the hospital was uneventful and quick, but the seemingly impenetrable walls of dark green vegetation gave Kevin an uncomfortable claustrophobic feeling. Kevin’s response was to press down on the accelerator. He was relieved to reach the edge of town.

Kevin parked in his spot. He opened his door, but hesitated. It was close to noon, and he debated heading home for lunch or going up to his lab for an hour or so. The lab won out. Esmeralda never expected him before one.

Just with the short walk from the car to the hospital, Kevin could appreciate the intensity of the noontime sun. It was like an oppressive blanket that made all movement more difficult, even breathing. Until he’d come to Africa, he’d never experienced true tropical heat. Once inside, enveloped with cool, air-conditioned air, Kevin grasped the edge of his collar and pulled his shirt away from his back.

He started up the stairs, but he didn’t get far.

“Dr. Marshall!” a voice called.

Kevin looked behind him. He wasn’t accustomed to being accosted in the stairwell.

“Shame on you, Dr. Marshall,” a woman said, standing at the base of the stairs. Her voice had a lilting quality that suggested she was being less than serious. She was clad in surgical scrubs and a white coat. The sleeves of the coat were rolled up to her mid-forearms.