Chapter VI

            Alan Grant spent the car ride to the Choteau Airport in silence. Sean Tanner was talking in low, exasperated tones into a Nokia that looked like he’d bought it yesterday. Not that Grant wanted to talk to the man anyway.

            He’d changed into something more presentable; his nicest blue shirt and the only pair of khakis that didn’t look like they’d lived with wolves. Neither were pressed or ironed but the wrinkles weren’t too noticeable. Billy’s lucky pack, with a change of clothes and some toiletries in case he stayed another day in San Diego, sat at his feet.

He watched the world zip by through overly tinted windows, feeling like he was now leaving behind the world he had struggled so hard to conceal himself in.

This was the second time he had gone to the Choteau Airport for the head of InGen. A certain sense of uneasy anxiety crept up his spine and polluted his brain with the thoughts of unimaginable horror. He took a few breaths to still himself, mentally reminding that all his pain was in the past. He and Jurassic Park had no more future.

At least, he hoped so.

All afternoon, Grant had been trying to figure why it was that Tim wanted to see him now. After the death of a loved one, a person tends to gravitate towards other loved ones, it’s true. But there was Lex and his parents. And if Tim really wanted to see him, why not come personally to Montana? Why send a representative armed with barely veiled threats?

Maybe Tim just needed to see him. Grant was aware (through Ellie and, occasionally, Ian Malcolm) that Tim and Lex spent most of their life after Jurassic Park with Hammond. The whole reason they were on the island in the first place was the fact that their parents were divorcing. Afterwards, their father left for New York and their mother began a lonely, selfish life that didn’t seem to have time for her children.

Now that Hammond was gone, there wasn’t any strong parental figure in his life. Grant was certain that Tim was going to try and convince him to remain in San Diego and help him out. With Tanner as an advisor, he would probably use the credit card as leverage.

That was fine. Grant could deal without it. He’d have to swallow his pride and get a job that was as demeaning to him as it would be boring, but he could do it. The idea of meeting Tim was going to be difficult enough. Seeing him everyday for even a week was impossible.

“I don’t care what the problem is, Lew, get it done.” Tanner shut the flip phone and clipped it back to his belt, looking decidedly aggravated.

Grant looked at him for a moment, then said, “Stock market crash?”

Tanner smirked. “Like you know what that is.”

“You’re right, I have no idea,” Grant admitted. “Not exactly my field of study, Mr. Tanner. So are you going to tell me, or is it none of my business?”

“The second choice,” he said dismissively, staring out the window.

Grant held up his hands. “Just making conversation.”

“Bored?”

“A little,” Grant said, “but we’ll be at the airport in a few minutes. I wanted to ask you a question, though. What does Tim want with me?”

“I have no idea,” he said quickly, tapping on the black screen that separated them from the driver. When the window rolled down, he asked impatiently, “Call ahead to the jet. Have them ready two glasses of bourbon.”

“Can I have a whiskey instead?” Grant asked.

“Oh,” Tanner muttered. “You wanted something, huh? Yes, ready the bourbon and a glass also of whiskey.”

As Tanner leaned back in his seat, Grant asked, “Must be pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry to be rude, Dr. Grant, but it’s none of your business and I do wish you’d stop asking.”

“That’s fine, but I’m not sure I give two damns about your problem,” Grant said. He relaxed against the seat, watching Tanner with intent eyes but a lax expression. “I was talking about mine. Why did your boss ask me to San Diego?”

“I told you before, I don’t know.”

“I think you do, Mr. Tanner. From the way you told things, you seem to be pulling Tim’s strings.”

Tanner was livid. “This was a personal request, Dr. Grant. I’m appalled at your description of my relationship with Mr. Murphy. I’m his business advisor and assistant.”

“You help him deal with financials and all that?”

“Of course.”

“Then why did he send you? Seems more like an errand boy job. You’re not an errand boy, are you, Sean?”

Tanner seemed to bite back something he might have regretted. “No, I am not, Dr. Grant, and I’d thank you very much not make such insinuations. Mr. Murphy simply foresaw a difficult time getting you out of your pit. He wanted someone with authority and a sample of negotiating skill to take care of it. Besides, as you can see, it wasn’t a simple invitation. He wants to see you. My job is to make sure he does.”

“I see. But you must know something, Mr. Tanner,” Grant said. “I mean, a man of your position both in the company and in Tim’s confidence should know something of value. You wouldn’t be keeping anything from me, would you?”

Tanner sucked on the inside of his cheek and dried his hands against his pant leg. “Look, even if I knew something, don’t you think Mr. Murphy would have asked me to keep the information to myself?”

“Actually, I think he did. All I want to know is whether or not he’s going to ask me to do something that I possibly won’t want to do.”

At this, Tanner gave him a genuine smile, but Grant couldn’t tell whether it was good or bad. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Dr. Grant.”

Grant’s heart kept itself afloat, but he could feel the leak beginning to grow in its hull. The corners of his mouth lifted momentarily and then he turned away to look at the approaching airport.

It was small, but heavily used by international airlines. A huge Boeing with an American Airlines logo painted on the tail fin was beginning its descent and, as they turned away from the airfield into the parking lot, Grant thought he caught a glimpse of their transport for the afternoon.

For Grant, it was hard to mistake the InGen insignia slapped on the Grumman jet.

I hate the wait for the money man. He remembered the day he’d stood there with Ellie, waiting for the plane to pull out of the hangar and allow them to board. There was impatience and frustration, and a feeling like he was turning his back on his profession. When he’d voiced his thoughts, Ellie had laughed and said, “Alan, you’ll be gone two days. I think the site and paleontology will be safe without Dr. Grant for that long. You worry too much.”

Grant bit back the emotion as the car turned into a parking space. Before the chauffeur could open the door for him, he slung his—Billy’s—lucky pack onto his shoulder and stepped outside himself. He hated to think that he needed someone to open doors for him.

Tanner, however, was under no such compunction. As he got out, he looked curiously at Grant. “Well, that was rude.”

“Well, I saw the handle and figured it had something to do with the door. I pulled on it and presto! I was outside.” He raised his face towards the sun to let it warm him. It had been cold in that car.

Tanner wasn’t amused. “It’s not a matter of intelligence. It’s simply that it’s—”

“A sign of being rich and famous? Last time I checked I was living in a trailer.”

“Not InGen’s fault,” Tanner said pompously. “We’ve given you the funds to do whatever you wish.”

Grant shot him a glare. “The only reason I even use it is because I thought I had no choice. But that’s going to change. I’m giving it back to Tim. Thanks, but no thanks. I’m going to get a job.”

“Have fun,” Tanner called after him as the paleontologist set towards the small airport building. Grant heard the advisor say a few words to the chauffeur before jogging quickly to catch up with him. “He’s slightly insulted.”

“Who?” Grant asked, sighing. He didn’t care. He just wanted to keep Tanner talking. The more Tanner talked, the more chance there was that he’d slip up and say something about this audience.

They walked through the automated doors into a blast of cool air that made Grant’s skin goosebump.

“Why, the chauffeur!”

“Oh, Christ,” Grant groaned. “Is the monkey so desperate to please his masters that he feels insulted if someone’s ‘rude’?”

“Come now,” Tanner said with sudden and unnatural cheer. “Must you refer to my employees as monkeys? That’s hardly appropriate, I think. Now let’s get moving. It’s a short trip to San Diego, but we mustn’t keep Mr. Murphy waiting.”

Grant nodded absently, taking long looks around, realizing that the last time he walked the old, stained carpet of the airport had been right before he had begun to lose everything. From here it was on to Dallas, where they’d pick up Malcolm, and then to San Jose, in Costa Rica. They’d board a helicopter for the ride to the island. It all started here. In Choteau.

Tanner was saying something, so was the security guard—even here, in this rundown, one-horse airport, 9/11’s impact could be felt—but Grant barely listened. All he could hear was the drumming of blood in his ears and the clear vivid memory of happiness as he held Ellie’s hand. She didn’t much like planes, after all.

Before he even knew it he was on the jet, which looked exactly like the one he’d been in twelve years earlier. Cramped but luxurious. Like a cruise ship’s room. Tanner talking to him. Grant replying half-heartedly. Eventually, the rep gave up and downed his two glasses of Bourbon. Something was troubling him. Grant didn’t know what. And he didn’t care.

Because something was troubling Grant. And he knew what it was. It was obvious. Somehow, the feeling of foreboding was growing stronger. As the plane took off and flew closer and closer to San Diego, Grant could feel his anxiety fly with it. Bad things were bound to happen. He didn’t know how or why or even when.

He just knew that getting on the jet was the worst idea in his long, sad history of bad ideas.