Chapter V

            The black sedan that pulled up that morning was spotless. The gleam of the sun against its waxed surface and heavily tinted windows reflected onto the trailer. Combined with the sound of well-maintained tires on unpaved dirt road, it served to wake Grant from his alcohol-induced coma.

            It had been three—no, four—days since Grant had learned of Hammond’s death and he still had not left his abode.

            He opened the rust encrusted door, shielding his eyes from the sharp sting of light.

            The sedan was motionless for several moments, the ticking of the heated metal reaching Grant’s ears. When the dust finally blew clear, a tuxedoed figure popped out of the front seat and opened the rear door.

            A man wearing black pants and a red button down stepped out and stared at Grant through dark sunglasses. He was tall and well-built, and as he walked towards the trailer, Grant could see the undeniable gait of the rich and confident in his step. His blond hair was cut close. As he drew closer, Grant could see a face which was as placid and inviting as a warm bath, and which put Grant at ease.

            The guy extended a well-manicured hand towards him. “Dr. Grant.” A light British accent, as if he had once been a foreigner to England and had lived there long enough to pick it up.

            Grant shook. “And you are?”

“I represent InGen,” he said, taking out a small card. “I’m Sean Tanner.”

            Grant took a moment to read it. “Alright, Mr. Tanner, what brings you all the way out here to the Montana Badlands?” Grant asked, making a sweeping gesture towards the barren landscape. “Was it the view?”

            “The company,” Tanner replied, and Grant couldn’t tell if he meant the company, InGen, or the present company. “InGen wanted me to find you and invite you to San Diego for an audience with the new CEO.”

            “The new CEO?” Grant grunted. “Grand. Who is it now?”

            “Someone you’re familiar with, actually,” Tanner said with a slight smile. “Timothy Murphy.”

            Grant’s eyes widened. “Little Tim?”

            “Not so little anymore. He’s twenty-two.”

            “That’s still pretty young to be behind a company,” Grant protested.

            Tanner shrugged. “Maybe, but Mr. Hammond seemed to think he’d do an alright job. Left most everything to him.”

            “That’s incredible.” Grant, for a moment, was speechless. “And the girl?”

            “Alexis? Oh, apparently she asked very little from her grandfather. She’s an artist, you know. Paints natural abstracts, but I won’t get into that. I’m sure Mr. Murphy will want to talk all about it with you. He’s really excited to be finally meeting with you after so long.”

            Grant put his hand to his mouth, then ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t think this was such a great idea. After all, hadn’t he already decided on a life of isolation and self-exile? “Look,” Grant said at length. “The last thing on my to-do list for the rest of my life is get involved with InGen again.” InGen, he thought wonderingly, or Tim? “You can tell Tim—Mr. Murphy—that I’m putting the past behind me and that he and everyone else should do it too.”

            Tanner was not deterred. He took off his sunglasses and stared directly in to the paleontologist’s eyes. “Dr. Grant, I know what happened at Jurassic Park. I was once Mr. Hammond’s personal office assistant. I know about everything. There are things, even, that I know that you do not. For instance, the British family, the Bowmans, whose little girl was attacked on Isla Sorna and whose ensuing lawsuit was Peter Ludlow’s crowbar for wresting InGen away from Mr. Hammond…that wasn’t the only time something like that happened. We’ve discovered the remains of four boats that have been abandoned on the island, with no sign of crew or passengers.”

            “What’s your point?” Grant said.

            “My point, Dr. Grant, Mr. Murphy’s point is that the island is too dangerous to be allowed to continue harboring such creatures. I think he wants to find a way to destroy Isla Sorna.”

            Grant shook his head sadly. “Impossible. The island’s not InGen property anymore. The UN made sure of that. What does he want? To atone for the mistakes of his ancestors?”

            “Something like that.”

            “Well, what does he want from me?”

            “Professional opinion, company, who knows, Dr. Grant? I’m Mr. Murphy’s assistant. I’m his professional confidante, assigned by the late Mr. Hammond to make sure he knew the right path. But I’m not his nanny and I am not his friend. I have a job to do, Dr. Grant, and I don’t have time to be wondering about the whys.”

            Grant nodded. Tanner seemed to be a man of great loyalty. A good friend, or confidante, or whatever. “Well, you can tell Mr. Murphy that I’m flattered that he still remembers who I am, but that I’m not ready, nor will I ever be ready, to revisit that part of my life again.”

            “He warned me you’d be stubborn,” Tanner said, chuckling. “I didn’t know you were going to be as solid as a rock.”

            Grant gave him a shallow smile. “When you work around them for as long as I have, they tend to have an adverse effect on you.”

            “Quite. Which is why he told me that if you do not come he will be forced to employ a different tactic.”

            Grant was taken aback. “Threats? Tim’s resorted to threats?”

            Tanner laughed benignly. “Oh, yes, but not the kind you think. Mr. Murphy and InGen wouldn’t dream of using any form of violence to get what they want.”

            “Yeah, I think InGen has enough blood on their hands, wouldn’t you say?”

            Tanner ignored the remark. “What is meant by ‘different tactic’ is that Mr. Murphy, obviously, has access to information that is hard to come by. Like, for instance, where you live, all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. Well, not hard to come by to you, I suppose. Wasn’t this the very area that you first met, in person, Mr. Hammond? When he invited you to Jurassic Park?”

            “Get to the point, Mr. Tanner,” Grant said impatiently.

            Tanner returned his sunglasses to his face. “You have a pressing engagement, Dr. Grant?” When Grant didn’t say anything, he continued, “Well, your present location isn’t exactly known to everyone, including your best friend, Mrs. Degler. Mr. Murphy knows that you were adamant that she not know your whereabouts. He also knows that you would be very grumpy if she were to happen across such information. And even grumpier if she showed up.”

            Grant ground his teeth in frustration. “Yes, yes I would be.”

            “Now, Mr. Murphy isn’t asking you for the world, Dr. Grant. He’s not asking you to stay with him for all eternity. He just wants a bit of your time. Probably no more than a few hours. Is that worth revealing yourself over?”

            Grant couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This didn’t seem like the boy he used to know at all. “That’s cheap blackmail,” he said angrily. “I can’t believe Tim thought to use it.”

            “He didn’t,” Tanner said. “I did. Both Mr. Hammond and Mr. Murphy share something that I don’t necessarily have: a conscience. When a situation presented Mr. Hammond with a moral dilemma, more often than not it was I who gave him advice on how to proceed.”

It was growing more and more obvious that there was more to Sean Tanner than what Grant had originally noticed. He had never been good at reading people. His initial belief that Tanner was a benevolent representative was slowly sinking into oblivion, replaced by an uneasy feeling that the broad-shouldered blond was dangerous.

“Is that how he slept at night?”

“I don’t presume to know how it affected his sleep,” Tanner said, that same grin, which seemed to Grant to be more in vice for its seeming sincerity. “But my ways seemed to work, Dr. Grant. Oh, to be sure, we never killed anyone or anything like that. But there were things about running a company which turned Mr. Hammond’s stomach. I simply helped him through that.”

“How do you sleep at night?”

“Dr. Grant, please, I’m not threatening your life. I’m not threatening another’s life. In fact, if anything, if you were to decline, I’d be helping both you and Mrs. Degler get passed this roadblock that you’ve so handily constructed for yourself. It’s up to you, of course, but in the end I’ll have done nothing wrong.”

“I don’t believe this,” Grant muttered. “I don’t fucking believe this.” He could feel the indecision tearing his heart to pieces. Neither of his choices seemed to bear him much comfort. Both would involve looking into the eyes of someone he loved and seeing the pity and the memories reflected in them. He couldn’t take that. He wasn’t ready.

A light bulb went off in his head. He could decline and then run. Constantly driving down the highway, putting distance between him and Ellie. Maybe end up in Canada or Alaska or something. He had parkas and stuff. He could do it.

As if reading his mind, Tanner remarked casually, “And I wouldn’t run from this either. Remember, we can track where you use Mr. Murphy’s credit card. She’ll eventually catch up with you. Anticipate you. After all, who knows Dr. Alan Grant better than Ellie Degler? Oh, and we also know that it’s your only source of money. You get rid of it and you won’t be able to buy the gas to run with.”

Grant’s heart sank. But what did he expect from InGen? They had thought of everything. Everything.

Tanner was patient, watching him intently from behind those now unnerving sunglasses.

Grant just stared back for a few moments, hoping to see some leniency in the representative, but when none came, he crumpled the business card and let it drop. He couldn’t help sighing in his defeat.

“Take me to your leader,” he muttered. “When does he want to see me? I can leave as early as—”

“He wants to see you immediately,” Tanner interjected. “If you want to pack, I suggest you do so quickly.”

“Now? I have to go now?”

“What’s wrong, Dr. Grant? You have a pressing engagement?”