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Authors: Robert Stimson

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BOOK: CRO-MAGNON
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Yes.”


You want to bring the boy out so you can scan his brain!”

When she didn’t respond, he shook his head. “You’d never get the body past Teague. And even if you did, how would you smuggle a thing that big? Especially as you’d have to keep it frozen.”

Now!


I didn’t say we’d bring the whole body.”

Calder’s eyes widened. “You want to cut off the boy’s head.”

She stared back. “He’s dead isn’t he?”


Yes. And I suspect you and I will be too, if we get too rambunctious.”

On the lake the outboard roared and Zinchenko gave a satisfied grunt.

 

#

 

Blaine stepped out of the boat and surveyed the area behind the two trailers and saw no helicopter. Her sense of relief drained away as she spotted Fitrat, looking like a stubby bear in her fur parka, pacing by the work trailer.


Uh-oh.” She made for the trailer door, Calder a step behind.

The director of antiquities moved to block them, waving her miniature cheroot in the thin air. “I want to talk. Before Mr. Salomon arrives.”

Blaine looked away as a tendril of harsh smoke enveloped her.
Great. Fitrat for a warm-up, then the head man.


Fine, Gulnaz. Ian and I want to keep you up to date.”


I do not believe so.” Fitrat waved the tobacco-wrapped cigarette, forcing Blaine to step back. “And you will call me Ms. Fitrat.”

Blaine, trying to look ingenuous, resisted the impulse to bat her eyes. “What did you want to know?”


Everything.”


As in . . . ?”


You have dived five times.”


To get enough data. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”


Your instructions were to catalogue the remains.”


Plus, determine their significance.” She willed herself to project earnestness. “And we are.”


You are taking too long.” Fitrat’s hard-bitten stare switched to Calder and back to Blaine. “I will not allow it.”


I’m assessing the drawings, while Dr. Calder measures the bones.”


I do not believe that is all you are doing.”

Blaine spread her hands. “What else?”


You are working for Mr. Salomon. I believe you found more than just bones, or you would be finished by now.”

Uh-oh,
Blaine thought.

Wide-eyed innocence. “More than bones?”


Bodies.” Fitrat puffed, inhaled, blew a cloud of smoke. “I suspect that the first diver found bodies in the cave and did not tell us.”


I assure you that Mr. Salomon reported everything to Mr. Delyanov.”


That may be true. But I am in charge of antiquities, not Mr. Delyanov.” The Tajik’s dark eyes narrowed further. “If I find you have deceived me, I will terminate you.”

Terminate.
The woman was not versed in American government jargon, Blaine thought. But if she and Calder failed to get what Salomon wanted because of Fitrat, or if he found out what they were up to, he might ‘terminate’ them for real.

She said, “We haven’t deceived you, Gulnaz.”

Liar, liar . . .


I told you, address me as Ms. Fitrat.” She glared at each of them. “I want to know the condition of the bodies and their eth . . . eth . . .”


Ethnicity.” Blaine jerked her head at Calder. “My colleague is assessing the remains.”


They’re just bones,” Calder lied, and Blaine felt relief that he was at least leaving the door open to her admittedly outrageous proposal. “So far, I haven’t determined whether they’re prehistoric or merely ancient.”

Fitrat jabbed the cigarillo, gray ash cascading to the snow. “I do not believe you.”

What to do?
Blaine thought.
A faint beat of helicopter blades echoed off the mountainside, and she relaxed. A few minutes ago she would not have guessed she would be relieved to hear Salomon’s aircraft approaching. She wondered if he had brought Mathiessen as requested. She suspected that involving the IHE director might be the only way to save her and Calder and to assure that her findings would be used to benefit mankind rather than for corporate profit.

If the situation is not already beyond redemption,
she thought. And she and Ian irreversibly doomed.

 

#

 

As soon as the bubble-domed helicopter settled behind the two trailers, the door opened and Laszlo Salomon jumped down, a leather briefcase in one hand. Despite her animosity, Blaine was again impressed by the dapper man’s economy of movement. He glanced at her before moving toward Teague. She noticed that he did not scrunch away from the still-turning helicopter blades.

The two men huddled, Teague talking and Salomon shooting more glances her way. As at their previous meeting, his widow’s peak and angled eyes created a diabolic impression.

She was relieved to see a craggy face topped by a shock of silver hair appear in the helicopter doorway. Rolf Mathiessen’s rawboned form unfolded as he hopped down, deliberate but nimble for a big man in his sixties.

He walked to where Blaine stood with Calder. “What have you found?”


Everything you told us about,” she said quietly. “And then some.”


The bodies are in good condition,” Calder added.


How good?”


I’m getting viable DNA,” Blaine said, her voice just above a whisper. “As I told you at the start, I think Salomon is interested mainly in the Neanderthal. I suspect he wants to use its cells to produce clones.”

Mathiessen’s brow wrinkled. “What for?”


Anything that would pay. Mercenaries, miners, factory workers. Knowing his penchant for expediency, and the world being messed up as it is, I’d suggest the mercenary angle.”


As a corporate CEO, Salomon is a practical man. He’d know that no government would allow that.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be so sure. Our own government is depending more and more on civilian corporations like Xe to support operations in foreign countries. And they’re depending more and more on drone weapons.”

Mathiessen glanced at where Salomon stood talking with his facilitator. “Not for close combat, though.”


Some companies are furnishing outright mercenaries to interdict drug lords and insurgents. I did a little research after Salomon talked to me. It’s a hundred-million-dollar business, at least.”


There must be lots of companies—”

Think of the profits if one corporation could corner the market on mercenaries. If it could furnish thousands of practically indestructible soldiers. Super-fit, impervious to hardship, bred to fight.”

Mathiessen’s scowl deepened. “The United Nations would never allow that.”


The UN is becoming marginalized, like the League of Nations before them, and they wouldn’t know until too late. Even then, the company and the government in question could stonewall them for years.”

Calder broke in: “Consider the nuclear, chemical, and biological experiments our government has perpetrated on its own citizens. And think about Libya under Qadaffi, North Korea under Kim Jong Il, Somalia under the warlords.”


Salomon must know the other nations would not permit him to furnish mercenaries to people like that. Are you sure you’re not demonizing the man in order to justify your own plans?”

Calder said, “He could do it through dummy corporations. Or even existing ones. I think Caitlin has a point.”

Mathiessen looked at Blaine. “Isn’t there a biological barrier that keeps scientists from cloning humans?”

Blaine said, “In primates, unlike other mammals, the egg contains so-called motor proteins that help the chromosomes align when the nucleus divides.” She mimed with her hands. “Until recently, when the nucleus was removed from a monkey egg and a different nucleus implanted, these proteins would also be separated, allowing abnormal chromosomes to form.”


Well, there you are.”


Not any longer. We now know how to avoid stripping these proteins.”

Mathiessen looked from her to Calder, and Blaine got ready to field his next challenge. But at that moment Salomon and Teague joined Fitrat and began to walk toward Zinchenko’s trailer. The three scientists followed.


I believe you have something for me,” Salomon murmured as Blaine caught up to him.

Blaine forced a pleasant countenance. “Later,” she said, surreptitiously indicating Fitrat a couple of steps ahead.” She nodded at the briefcase, which she suspected contained Dry Ice. “You’ll need to keep it frozen, of course.”

She wondered how long it would take the industrialist to learn that the DNA had already been heat-spoiled. She felt the weight of Teague’s dead-eyed stare. He was the one she’d have to deal with. Unless, she thought, she and Ian could manage to be gone before her deception came to light. And how could they manage that, she thought, stranded out here in the wilderness?

Fitrat said, “We will meet in Fedor’strailer.”

Salomon perused her, his black eyes opaque, and nodded. “Where is he?”


In his room, working on the outboard motor,” Blaine said.

Of course, she thought, Salomon’s real reason for coming here was to pick up cell samples from the three human bodies, the “meeting” being merely a pretext. She hoped it would be short, so as not to further exacerbate Fitrat’s suspicions, and, even worse, Salomon’s.

They convened in the camp master’s cramped and overheated living room, Fitrat and Teague bracketing the door, the others huddled in the center. Salomon glanced at Mathiessen, then Blaine.


I wasn’t sure why you wanted Dr. Mathiessen here,” he said, “since our business is straightforward.”

Implying that everything is aboveboard.
Blaine guessed the industrialist had sensed Fitrat’s suspicions and was trying to soothe her. And just as surely, she knew Salomon suspected that she and Calder were not totally committed to his goal.

Blaine searched her memory for any hint she or Calder might have mouthed in the work trailer about their wavering loyalty to him.
If he finds out that I have a separate agenda . . .


Ian has discovered many artifacts, and I have made progress assessing the cave art,” she said, mindful that Fitrat believed she was the expert on prehistoric art. “We wanted Dr. Mathiessen’s opinion.”

Calder said, “I’ve found primitive weapons, kitchen implements, a fully functional hearth, a sewing kit, and much more. I wanted Dr. Mathiessen’s opinion as to whether we should bring some—”


Definitely not,” Fitrat said, her saturnine face stiff with indignation. “You are not to disturb the remains. A team of Tajik archaeologists will recover the remains and the artifacts next summer if the findings warrant.”


They do.” Blaine indicated Mathiessen, standing by the tatty sofa. “I thought if someone like the director of the Institute of Human Evolution made the request in person . . .”

Mathiessen said, “Considering the richness of the find and the possibility of the tunnel closing, I would advise that a comprehensive sample of artifacts—”


No.” Fitrat drew herself to her full five-foot-three. “You will remove nothing from the cave other than the bone samples I believe you have already stolen, plus minute paint samples from the drawings and charcoal from the hearth for dating purposes. That is all I am authorized to permit.”


I believe that is a mistake,” Mathissen said. “I can’t prevail on you to—”


No.”


All right,” Salomon said. “That’s it, then.” He turned to Blaine. “How much longer will you need to dive?”


To make sure we’ve got all the information Mr. Delyanov asked for, a few more days.” She glanced at Calder for support.


I need more time to take comparative measurements and catalog all the artifacts.”


And I need to melt more ice from the artwork,” Blaine said. “I believe they contain some pigments we’ve never seen. But melting the rime without damaging the paintings is delicate work.”


Rhyme?” Fitrat said. “There is writing?”

Blaine said, “A type of heavy frost, Gulnaz.”


I told you to address me as Ms. Fitrat.” She flashed a sour look. “You have the remainder of today and tomorrow to process the cave.”


That’s not enough time,” Calder said. “We need to—”


Next day, you leave.” Fitrat’s already closed face clenched further. “I stretch my authority to allow that much. I am supposed to consult with Mr. Delyanov on such matters.”

Blaine peered at her and saw no sign of disingenuousness.
She doesn’t know Salomon has Delyanov in his pocket.
She thought about asking Salomon to get Delyanov to overrule the director of antiquities, but then realized that Fitrat would probably voice her suspicions, in protest.


Fine,” Salomon said. “On that note, we’ll conclude the meeting.” He nodded at Teague. “I want to talk to my facilitator.”

BOOK: CRO-MAGNON
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