Michael Crichton - State Of Fear

"What does that mean?"

"He just seems to know people."

Evans stared at her. "He knows people," he repeated.

"Different sorts of people. Yes. He sent George off to see a lot of them. Kenner has a tremendously wide range of contacts. Particularly in the environmental area."

"Is that what the Center for Risk Analysis does? Environmental risks?"

"I'm not sure."

"Why is he on sabbatical?"

"You should ask him these things."

"Okay."

"You don't like him, do you?" she said.

"I like him fine. I just think he's a conceited asshole."

"He's very sure of himself," she said.

"Assholes usually are."

Evans got up, and walked to where he could see into the hallway. Kenner was talking to the policemen, signing some documents, and turning over the intruders. The police were joking with him. Standing to one side was the dark man, Sanjong.

"And what about the little guy with him?"

"Sanjong Thapa," she said. "Kenner met him in Nepal when he was climbing a mountain there. Sanjong was a Nepali military officer assigned to help a team of scientists studying soil erosion in the Himalaya. Kenner invited him back to the States to work with him."

"I remember now. Kenner's a mountain climber, too. And he was almost on the Olympic ski team." Evans couldn't conceal his annoyance.

Sarah said, "He's a remarkable man, Peter. Even if you don't like him."

Evans returned to the couch, sat down again, folded his arms. "Well, you're right about that," he said. "I don't."

"I have the feeling you're not alone there," she said. "The list of people who dislike John Kenner is a long one."

Evans snorted, and said nothing.

They were still sitting on the couch when Kenner came bounding back into the room. He was again rubbing his hands. "All right," he said. "All the two boys have to say is that they want to talk to a lawyer, and they seem to know one. Imagine that. But we'll know more in a few hours." He turned to Peter. "So: mystery solved? Concerning the Buddha?"

Evans glared at him. "No."

"Really? It's quite straightforward."

"Why don't you just tell us," Evans said.

"Reach your right hand out to the end table," Kenner said.

Evans put his hand out. There were five remote controls on the table.

"Yes?" he said. "And?"

"What are they for?"

"It's a media room," Evans said. "I think we've established that."

"Yes," Kenner said. "But what are they for?"

"Obviously," Evans said, "to control the television, the satellite, the DVD, the VHS, all that."

"Which one does which?" Kenner said.

Evans stared at the table. And suddenly he got it. "Oh my God," he said. "You're absolutely right."

He was flipping them over, one after another.

"This one's the flat panel amp;DVD amp;satellite amp;high def amp;" He stopped. There was one more. "Looks like there are two DVD controllers." The second one was stubby and black and had all the usual buttons, but it was slightly lighter than the other.

Evans pulled open the battery compartment. Only one battery was there. In place of the other was a tightly rolled piece of paper.

"Bingo," he said.

He took the paper out.

All that matters is not remote from where the Buddha sits. That's what George had said. Which meant that this paper was all that matters.

Carefully, Evans unrolled the tiny sheet and pressed it flat on the coffee table with the heel of his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles.

And then he stared.

The paper contained nothing but columns of numbers and words:

662262

3982293

24FXE 62262 82293

TERROR

882320

4898432

12FXE 82232 54393

SNAKE

774548

9080799

02FXE 67533 43433

LAUGHER

482320

5898432

22FXE 72232 04393

SCORPION

ALT

662262

3982293

24FXE 62262 82293

TERROR

382320

4898432

12FXE 82232 54393

SEVER

244548

9080799

02FXE 67533 43433

CONCH

482320

5898432

22FXE 72232 04393

SCORPION

ALT

662262

3982293

24FXE 62262 82293

TERROR

382320

4898432

12FXE 82232 54393

BUZZARD

444548

7080799

02FXE 67533 43433

OLD MAN

482320

5898432

22FXE 72232 04393

SCORPION

ALT

662262

3982293

24FXE 62262 82293

TERROR

382320

4898432

12FXE 82232 54393

BLACK MESA

344548

9080799

02FXE 67533 43433

SNARL

482320

5898432

22FXE 72232 04393

SCORPION

Evans said, "Is this what everybody's after?"

Sarah was looking at the paper over his shoulder. "I don't get it. What does it mean?"

Evans passed the paper to Kenner. He hardly glanced at it before he said, "No wonder they were so desperate to get this back."

"You know what it is?"

"There's no doubt about what it is," Kenner said, handing the paper to Sanjong. "It's a list of geographic locations."

"Locations? Where?"

"We'll have to calculate that," Sanjong said. "They're recorded in UTM, which may mean the listing was intended for pilots." Kenner saw the blank looks on the others' faces. "The world is a globe," he said, "and maps are flat. Therefore all maps are projections of a sphere onto a flat surface. One projection is the Universal Transverse Mercator grid, which divides the globe into six-degree grids. It was originally a military projection, but some pilot charts use it."

Evans said, "So these numbers are latitude and longitude in a different form?"

"Correct. A military form." Kenner ran his finger down the page. "It appears to be several alternate sets of four locations. But in every instance the first and last locations are the same. For whatever reason amp;" He frowned, and stared off into space.

"Is that bad?" Sarah said.

"I'm not sure," Kenner said. "But it might be, yes." He looked at Sanjong.

Sanjong nodded gravely. "What is today?" he said.

"Tuesday."

"Then amp;time is very short."

Kenner said, "Sarah, we're going to need George's plane. How many pilots does he have?"

"Two, usually."

"We'll need at least four. How soon can you get them?"

"I don't know. Where do you want to go?" she said.

"Chile."

"Chile! And leave when?"

"As soon as possible. Not later than midnight."

"It'll take me some time to arrange"

"Then get started now," Kenner said. "Time is short, Sarah. Very short."

Evans watched Sarah go out of the room. He turned back to Kenner. "Okay," he said. "I give up. What's in Chile?"

"A suitable airfield, I presume. With adequate jet fuel." Kenner snapped his fingers. "Good point, Peter. Sarah," he called into the next room, "what kind of a plane is it?"

"G-five!" she called back.

Kenner turned to Sanjong Thapa, who had taken out a small handheld computer and was tapping away at it. "Are you connected to Akamai?"

"Yes."

"Was I right?"

"I've only checked the first location so far," Sanjong said. "But yes. We need to go to Chile."

"Then Terror is Terror?" Kenner said.

"I think so, yes."

Evans looked from one man to the other. "Terror is Terror?" he said, puzzled.

"That's right," Kenner said.

Sanjong said, "You know, Peter's got a point."

Evans said, "Are you guys ever going to tell me what's going on?"

"Yes," Kenner said. "But first, you have your passport?"

"I always carry it."

"Good man." Kenner turned back to Sanjong. "What point?"

"It's UTM, Professor. It's a six-degree grid."

"Of course!" Kenner said, snapping his fingers again. "What's the matter with me?"

"I give up," Evans said. "What's the matter with you?"

But Kenner didn't answer; he now seemed almost hyperactive, his fingers twitching nervously as he picked up the remote control from the table beside Peter and peered at it closely, turning it in the light. Finally, he spoke.