Michael Crichton - State Of Fear

Under normal circumstances, Peter Evans spoke to George Morton every day. Sometimes twice a day. So after a week went by without hearing from him, Evans called his house. He spoke to Sarah.

"I have no idea what is going on," she said. "Two days ago he was in North Dakota. North Dakota! The day before that he was in Chicago. I think he might be in Wyoming today. He's made noises about going to Boulder, Colorado, but I don't know."

"What's in Boulder?" Evans said.

"I haven't a clue. Too early for snow."

"Has he got a new girlfriend?" Sometimes Morton disappeared when he was involved with a new woman.

"Not that I know," Sarah said.

"What's he doing?"

"I have no idea. It sounds like he has a shopping list."

"A shopping list?"

"Well," she said, "sort of. He wanted me to buy some kind of special GPS unit. You know, for locating position? Then he wanted some special video camera using CCD or CCF or something. Had to be rush-ordered from Hong Kong. And yesterday he told me to buy a new Ferrari from a guy in Monterey, and have it shipped to San Francisco."

"Another Ferrari?"

"I know," she said. "How many Ferraris can one man use? And this one doesn't seem up to his usual standards. From the e-mail pictures it looks kind of beat up."

"Maybe he's going to have it restored."

"If he was, he'd send it to Reno. That's where his car restorer is."

He detected a note of concern in her voice. "Is everything okay, Sarah?"

"Between you and me, I don't know," she said. "The Ferrari he bought is a 1972 365 GTS Daytona Spyder."

"So?"

"He already has one, Peter. It's like he doesn't know. And he sounds weird when you talk to him."

"Weird in what way?"

"Just amp;weird. Not his usual self at all."

"Who's traveling with him?"

"As far as I know, nobody."

Evans frowned. That was very odd. Morton hated being alone. Evans's immediate inclination was to disbelieve it.

"What about that guy Kenner and his Nepali friend?"

"Last I heard, they were going to Vancouver, and on to Japan. So they're not with him."

"Uh huh."

"When I hear from him, I'll let him know you called."

Evans hung up, feeling dissatisfied. On an impulse, he dialed Morton's cell phone. But he got the voice mail. "This is George. At the beep." And the quick beep.

"George, this is Peter Evans. Just checking in, to see if there's anything you need. Call me at the office if I can help."

He hung up, and stared out the window. Then he dialed again.

"Center for Risk Analysis."

"Professor Kenner's office, please."

In a moment he got the secretary. "This is Peter Evans, I'm looking for Professor Kenner."

"Oh yes, Mr. Evans. Dr. Kenner said you might call."

"He did?"

"Yes. Are you trying to reach Dr. Kenner?"

"Yes, I am."

"He's in Tokyo at the moment. Would you like his cell phone?"

"Please."

She gave him the number, and he wrote it down on his yellow pad. He was about to call when his assistant, Heather, came in to say that something at lunch had disagreed with her, and she was going home for the afternoon.

"Feel better," he said, sighing.

With her gone, he was obliged to answer his own phone, and the next call was from Margo Lane, George's mistress, asking where the hell George was. Evans was on the phone with her for the better part of half an hour.

And then Nicholas Drake walked into his office.

"I am very concerned," Drake said. He stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the office building opposite.

"About what?"

"This Kenner person that George is spending so much time with."

"I don't know that they're spending time together."

"Of course they are. You don't seriously believe George is alone, do you?"

Evans said nothing.

"George is never alone. We both know that. Peter, I don't like this situation at all. Not at all. George is a good manI don't have to tell you thatbut he is susceptible to influence. Including the wrong influence."

"You think a professor at MIT is the wrong influence?"

"I've looked into Professor Kenner," Drake said, "and there are a few mysteries about him."

"Oh?"

"His rйsumй says he spent a number of years in government. Department of the Interior, Intergovernmental Negotiating Committee, and so on."

"Yes?"

"The Department of the Interior has no record of his working there."

Evans shrugged. "It was more than ten years ago. Government records being what they are amp;"

"Possibly," Drake said. "But there is more. Professor Kenner comes back to MIT, works there for eight years, very successfully. Consultant to the EPA, consultant to Department of Defense, God knows what elseand then he suddenly goes on extended leave, and no one seems to know what happened to him since. He just fell off the radar."

"I don't know," Evans said. "His card says he is Director of Risk Analysis."

"But he's on leave. I don't know what the hell he is doing these days. I don't know who supports him. I take it you've met him?"

"Briefly."

"And now he and George are great pals?"

"I don't know, Nick. I haven't seen or spoken to George in more than a week."

"He's off with Kenner."

"I don't know that."

"But you know that he and Kenner went to Vancouver."

"Actually, I didn't know."

"Let me lay it out for you plainly," Drake said. "I have it on good authority that John Kenner has unsavory connections. The Center for Risk Analysis is wholly funded by industry groups. I needn't say more. In addition, Mr. Kenner spent a number of years advising the Pentagon and in fact was so involved with them that he even underwent some sort of training for a period of time."

"You mean military training?"

"Yes. Fort Bragg and Harvey Point, in North Carolina," Drake said. "There is no question the man has military connections as well as industry connections. And I am told he is hostile toward mainstream environmental organizations. I hate to think of a man like that working on poor George."

"I wouldn't worry about George. He can see through propaganda."

"I hope so. But frankly I do not share your confidence. This military man shows up, and the next thing we know, George is trying to audit us. I mean, my God, why would he want to do that? Doesn't George realize what a waste of resources that involves? Time, money, everything? It would be a tremendous drag on my time."

"I wasn't aware an audit was going forward."

"It's being discussed. Of course, we have nothing to hide, and we can be audited at any time. I have always said so. But this is an especially busy time, with the Vanutu lawsuit starting up, and the conference on Abrupt Climate Change to be planned for. All that's in the next few weeks. I wish I could speak to George."

Evans shrugged. "Call his cell."

"I have. Have you?"

"Yes."

"He call you back?"

"No," Evans said.

Drake shook his head. "That man," he said, "is my Concerned Citizen of the Year, and I can't even get him on the phone."

Morton sat at a sidewalk table outside a cafй on Beverly Drive at eight in the morning, waiting for Sarah to show up. His assistant was ordinarily punctual, and her apartment was not far away. Unless she had taken up with that actor again. Young people had so much time to waste on bad relationships.

He sipped his coffee, glancing at the Wall Street Journal without much interest. He had even less interest after an unusual couple sat down at the next table.

The woman was petite and strikingly beautiful, with dark hair and an exotic look. She might have been Moroccan; it was hard to judge from her accent. Her clothing was chic and out of place in casual Los Angelestight-fitting skirt, spike heels, Chanel jacket.