Read Online Jurassic Park: A Novel by Michael Crichton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Crichton
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AND ROSS
Midday sun streamed into the San Francisco law offices of Cowan, Swain and Ross, giving the room a cheerfulness that Donald Gennaro did not feel. He listened on the phone and looked at his boss, Daniel Ross, cold as an undertaker in his dark pinstripe suit.
“I understand, John,” Gennaro said. “And Grant agreed to come? Good, good … yes, that sounds fine to me. My congratulations, John.” He hung up the phone and turned to Ross.
“We can’t trust Hammond any more. He’s under too much pressure. The EPA’s investigating him, he’s behind schedule on his Costa Rican resort, and the investors are getting nervous. There have been too many rumors of problems down there. Too many workmen have died. And now this business about a living procompsit-whatever on the mainland …”
“What does that mean?” Ross said.
“Maybe nothing,” Gennaro said. “But Hamachi is one of our principal investors. I got a report last week from Hamachi’s representative in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. According to the report, some new kind of lizard is biting children on the coast.”
Ross blinked. “New lizard?”
“Yes,” Gennaro said. “We can’t screw around with this. We’ve got to inspect that island right away. I’ve asked Hammond to arrange independent site inspections every week for the next three weeks.”
“And what does Hammond say?”
“He insists nothing is wrong on the island. Claims he has all these security precautions.”
“But you don’t believe him,” Ross said.
“No,” Gennaro said. “I don’t.”
Donald Gennaro had come to Cowan, Swain from a backgroundin investment banking. Cowan, Swain’s high-tech clients frequently needed capitalization, and Gennaro helped them find the money. One of his first assignments, back in 1982, had been to accompany John Hammond while the old man, then nearly seventy, put together the funding to start the InGen corporation. They eventually raised almost a billion dollars, and Gennaro remembered it as a wild ride.
“Hammond’s a dreamer,” Gennaro said.
“A potentially dangerous dreamer,” Ross said. “We should never have gotten involved. What is our financial position?”
“The firm,” Gennaro said, “owns five percent.”
“General or limited?”
“General.”
Ross shook his head. “We should never have done that.”
“It seemed wise at the time,” Gennaro said. “Hell, it was eight years ago. We took it in lieu of some fees. And, if you remember, Hammond’s plan was extremely speculative. He was really pushing the envelope. Nobody really thought he could pull it off.”
“But apparently he has,” Ross said. “In any case, I agree that an inspection is overdue. What about your site experts?”
“I’m starting with experts Hammond already hired as consultants, early in the project.” Gennaro tossed a list onto Ross’s desk. “First group is a paleontologist, a paleobotanist, and a mathematician. They go down this weekend. I’ll go with them.”
“Will they tell you the truth?” Ross said.
“I think so. None of them had much to do with the island, and one of them—the mathematician, Ian Malcolm—was openly hostile to the project from the start. Insisted it would never work, could never work.”
“And who else?”
“Just a technical person: the computer system analyst. Review the park’s computers and fix some bugs. He should be there by Friday morning.”
“Fine,” Ross said. “You’re making the arrangements?”
“Hammond asked to place the calls himself. I think he wants to pretend that he’s not in trouble, that it’s just a social invitation. Showing off his island.”
“All right,” Ross said. “But just make sure it happens. Stay on top of it. I want this Costa Rican situation resolved within a week.” Ross got up, and walked out of the room.
Gennaro dialed, heard the whining hiss of a radiophone. Then he heard a voice say, “Grant here.”
“Hi, Dr. Grant, this is
Midday sun streamed into the San Francisco law offices of Cowan, Swain and Ross, giving the room a cheerfulness that Donald Gennaro did not feel. He listened on the phone and looked at his boss, Daniel Ross, cold as an undertaker in his dark pinstripe suit.
“I understand, John,” Gennaro said. “And Grant agreed to come? Good, good … yes, that sounds fine to me. My congratulations, John.” He hung up the phone and turned to Ross.
“We can’t trust Hammond any more. He’s under too much pressure. The EPA’s investigating him, he’s behind schedule on his Costa Rican resort, and the investors are getting nervous. There have been too many rumors of problems down there. Too many workmen have died. And now this business about a living procompsit-whatever on the mainland …”
“What does that mean?” Ross said.
“Maybe nothing,” Gennaro said. “But Hamachi is one of our principal investors. I got a report last week from Hamachi’s representative in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. According to the report, some new kind of lizard is biting children on the coast.”
Ross blinked. “New lizard?”
“Yes,” Gennaro said. “We can’t screw around with this. We’ve got to inspect that island right away. I’ve asked Hammond to arrange independent site inspections every week for the next three weeks.”
“And what does Hammond say?”
“He insists nothing is wrong on the island. Claims he has all these security precautions.”
“But you don’t believe him,” Ross said.
“No,” Gennaro said. “I don’t.”
Donald Gennaro had come to Cowan, Swain from a backgroundin investment banking. Cowan, Swain’s high-tech clients frequently needed capitalization, and Gennaro helped them find the money. One of his first assignments, back in 1982, had been to accompany John Hammond while the old man, then nearly seventy, put together the funding to start the InGen corporation. They eventually raised almost a billion dollars, and Gennaro remembered it as a wild ride.
“Hammond’s a dreamer,” Gennaro said.
“A potentially dangerous dreamer,” Ross said. “We should never have gotten involved. What is our financial position?”
“The firm,” Gennaro said, “owns five percent.”
“General or limited?”
“General.”
Ross shook his head. “We should never have done that.”
“It seemed wise at the time,” Gennaro said. “Hell, it was eight years ago. We took it in lieu of some fees. And, if you remember, Hammond’s plan was extremely speculative. He was really pushing the envelope. Nobody really thought he could pull it off.”
“But apparently he has,” Ross said. “In any case, I agree that an inspection is overdue. What about your site experts?”
“I’m starting with experts Hammond already hired as consultants, early in the project.” Gennaro tossed a list onto Ross’s desk. “First group is a paleontologist, a paleobotanist, and a mathematician. They go down this weekend. I’ll go with them.”
“Will they tell you the truth?” Ross said.
“I think so. None of them had much to do with the island, and one of them—the mathematician, Ian Malcolm—was openly hostile to the project from the start. Insisted it would never work, could never work.”
“And who else?”
“Just a technical person: the computer system analyst. Review the park’s computers and fix some bugs. He should be there by Friday morning.”
“Fine,” Ross said. “You’re making the arrangements?”
“Hammond asked to place the calls himself. I think he wants to pretend that he’s not in trouble, that it’s just a social invitation. Showing off his island.”
“All right,” Ross said. “But just make sure it happens. Stay on top of it. I want this Costa Rican situation resolved within a week.” Ross got up, and walked out of the room.
Gennaro dialed, heard the whining hiss of a radiophone. Then he heard a voice say, “Grant here.”
“Hi, Dr. Grant, this is
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