The Lost World: Jurassic Kratts

The Great White Hunter/ Hurried Arrangements

Midday in Mombassa Kenya, and the local open air cafe was buzzing like a beehive with activity as locals and tourists alike all sat on their designated tables and booths, eating, drinking at the bar and laughing in merry good cheer. Roland Tembo, a hardy outdoorsman in his late sixties and skin like leather, was sitting at his table under the shade of a wooden umbrella, simply minding his own business. Despite all the commotion and noise of the other customers, especially an obnoxious group of American tourists on safari, he simply tuned them out, calmly eating his lunch and drinking a beer while he read The Maneaters of Tsavo, his eyeglasses hanging low on his nose as he skimmed over the book with the diamond-hard look of a cobra.
  Suddenly, he stopped reading and furrowed his brow. He looked up, sniffing the air like a predator on the trail of its prey. A pearly white smile slowly adorned his face as he called out: "Ajay?"
  The outdoorsman instantly whirled around, coming face to face with Ajay Sidhu, a wiry East Indian in his late forties standing behind him, caught trying to sneak up on him. "How did you know?" exclaimed Ajay in delight as he raced to embrace his longtime friend.
  "That cheap aftershave I send you every Christmas, you actually wear it." Roland replied, touching his nose. "I'm touched. Sit down, sit down, what on earth brings you to Mombassa?"
"You."said Ajay, taking a seat across from the outdoorsman. "Tell me, Roland, when was the last time you answered your phone?"
  "Last time I plugged it in, I suppose. Why?"
"I got a call from a gentleman who's going to Costa Rica, or thereabouts. If he's to be believed, it's a most unique expedition.  And very well-funded."
   "Well, I'm a very well-funded old son of a bitch."replied Tembo, sipping his beer. "You go."
  Sidhu looked up in surprise. "But alone? We always had great success together, you and I."
"Just a little bit too much, I think."
"What do you mean?"
The old hunter went on philosophically, saying: "A true hunter doesn't mind if the animal wins. If it escapes. But there weren't enough escapes from you and me, Ajay. We were a firing squad, don't you think? It all became rather routine, didn't it? I have no interest in being an executioner."
"I have good reason to believe that you would find this challenging."replied Ajay with his ever present smile.
"Then it's probably illegal. These days, it's a far worse crime to shoot a tiger than to shoot your own parents." Upon that, Ajay nearly had beer come out of his nose as he stifled a laugh. Suddenly a loud kurfuffle arose not far from the two seasoned gentlemen, catching their attention. From a nearby table, the American tourists roared with laughter as one of them berated a local waitress, pawing her rear end as his comrades cheered him on.
"Tigers have advocates."remarked Tembo, rising from his seat in a heartbeat. "Excuse me."
With that, Roland strolled over to the tourists' table, saying something to the waitress in Swahili, who then walked away. He stared down at the most impudent of the group under his beige brim hat.
  "You, sir, are no gentleman." At these biting words, the tourists once more burst into laughter. The largest of the bunch, the same who harassed the waitress, folded his arms, spitting on the ground at Roland's feet.
"Is that supposed to be an insult?"he asked with an arrogant sneer.
"I can think of none greater."replied the hunter casually, wiping his eyeglasses with a napkin.
  The tourist looked to his buddies and laughed, waving him off. "Buzz off, you silly old bastard."
"What do I have to do to pick a fight with you, bring your mother into it?"
"Ooooooh..."chorused the group as they looked to their friend. The big tourist wasn't about to let that wise crack go unanswered. "Are you kidding? I could take you with one arm tied down."
"Is that so?"
**** A Few Minutes Later...****
A waiter finished tying Roland's wrist to his belt with a handkerchief, pulling the knot tightly. The brawny tourist, untied, stood across from the bound man as the latter removed his hat.
"I meant my arm." Those words had hardly left the brawny tourist's mouth when– POW! With the speed of a striking viper, Roland punched him square in the jaw with his unbound fist, sending his opponent tumbling down among his friends. The unmannerly lout reeled, stunned before he lunged at his adversary, blood boiling over in rage, swinging wildly with both arms. But his fists were only met by air as the hunter bobbed, neatly ducking as he waited for an opportunity to strike, calmly drinking a glass of beer. Once it came, he landed another quick punch in the tourist's face, causing blood to flow freely from his nose. The brute quickly recovered before he once again charged head on like a raging bull.
Roland anticipated the attack, but this time he didn't punch. Waving to the left, he threw a hip, augmenting it with a foot sweep that knocked the knave off his feet. Losing his balance, the tourist sailed into a table, flipping it over and wiping out an older couple's lunch. He landed like a ton of bricks, the table on top of him in a cloud of sawdust. Loud cheers rose up from the bar as local spectators applauded the Great White Hunter as he took his leave.
"I'm sorry. You were saying?"asked Roland as he rejoined Ajay at the table.
"You broke that man's jaw for no reason other than your own boredom."said Sidhu, glancing back at the scene of carnage. "Tell the truth, Roland. Aren't you even interested in knowing this expedition's quarry?"
Wiping the blood from his fist, the veteran outdoorsman retorted coldly: "Ajay. Go on up to my ranch, take a look around the trophy room, and tell me what kind of quarry you think could possibly be of any interest to me." To this Ajay simply smiled.
....
  In a large warehouse, the sparks of an acetylene torch flew as workmen made modifications on several vehicles, including a dark-green Mercedes Benz AAV (all-activity vehicle). The hood of the AAV is up and the V-6 engine has been pulled out; a new, smaller engine lowered in its place. To one side were two long trailers donned in camouflage coloring, connected by an accordion-like passageway, similar in design to a subway car, allowing one to be towed behind the other.
  The warehouse was buzzing with activity as the crew scrambled furiously to meet a last minute deadline. Eddie Carr, forty or so in age, strolled along the aisles as he supervised the preparations as Malcolm followed close by, the latter carrying a satellite phone, a bright green headset attached to a heavy battery base. He dialed the phone and anxiously waited for an answer.
"You can't shave three days off my deadline and expect everything to be ready."stated Eddie, obviously displeased with the sudden change. "I'm not fully supplied, I haven't field tested any of this stuff!"
  "Damn it! Why doesn't Sarah ever answer her satellite phone?!"exclaimed the scientist in irritation, hanging up for the fourth or fifth time.
  "Could be anything. Solar flares, a satellite out of synch. It's not exactly a local call. I need half air on the tires here, guys!" This was directed to some nearby workers running maintenance on the vehicles.
  "Let me talk to your communications designer."
    "You are talking to him."replied the technician with a deadpan look, arms folded. He hardly finished when a battered white van roared through the door of the garage, pulling in backwards before coming to a stop in the middle of the floor. An American in his late twenties hopped out of the vehicle, looking a bit cranky.
"Thanks for the two minute warning, Eddie."he grumbled, sliding the cargo door open, revealing photographic equipment– video cameras, cables, metal supply cases. Eddie immediately started the introductions. "Nick van Owen, this is Ian Malcolm. Nick's our field photographer. Ian's our umm– Ian."
  "What's your background? Wildlife photography?"asked Malcolm, addressing the newcomer.
"Wildlife, combat, you name it."replied Nick as he unloaded the van. "When I was with Nightline I was in Rwanda, Chechnya, all over Bosnia. Thanks.."– here, a workman helped the photographer unload a box from the vehicle– "Do some volunteer for Greenpeace once in a while."
  "Greenpeace? What drew you there?"
   "Women. 'Bout eighty percent female in Greenpeace."
"Very noble."
"Yeah. Noble was last year. This year I'm getting paid. Hammond's check cleared, or I wouldn't be going on this wild goose chase."
   "Where you're going is the only place in the world where the geese chase you."
Nick looked at him, unconvinced. "Uh-huh."
   While they were talking, the nature of the items the photographer unloaded had changed. Instead of photographic equipment, he was now pulling out tools– a pry bar, a small ax, a set of chisels and punches, bolt and wire cutters to name a few.
This caused Malcolm to raise an eyebrow. "We're only going to find Dr. Harding, then we leave immediately. You won't need all that."
   "Oh, I think I might. You never know."
From the ceiling, a large metal cage crashed down with a CLANG! The startled trio leaped back as they looked up. A nearly workman waved from a scaffolding.
"Sorry, Eddie! Specs say it can't deform at 12,000 PSI, we had to test it!"he informed.
Eddie bent down to inspect the cage, which was rectangular in shape, constricted of inch-thick titanium-alloy bars.
"What the hell is that?"asked Malcolm, turning to the technician. "A high hide. You go up and you hide. High. This cage goes up to where the trees are. Keeps the researchers out of harm's way."
"Actually, it puts them at a very convenient biting height,"
"Hmm. This aluminum's too shiny. We should paint it matte black." This was said to a worker standing behind Eddie. "And Bobby, I said I wanted camera mounts in the corners of the cage too, not just on the scaffolding."
"Wait. More cameras?"asked the mathematician.
"Oh yeah."Eddie replied as he gestured to a tall scaffold that's nearby. On it, crewmen were attaching long, dangling wires to four strategically placed camera mounts. "The remote heads are automatic pivoters with heat sensors that are active twenty-four hours a day."
As they spoke, one of the already-installed cameras on the high hide whirred to life, picking them up as they walk past. The camera followed them as they go, displaying their image on a video monitor near the base of the scaffolding. "The data gets multiplexed and we'll uplink it back to New York at the end of every day. It's a great system, just a little buggy at the moment."
  He reached out, reframing the camera, which pivoted off of them, now shooting a fluorescent light above them.
  "Our charter leaves in three hours."stated the mathematician, checking his watch. "If it isn't ready, just leave it behind. Now, I wanna talk to whoever's in charge of security." Here, Eddie simply looked at him incredulously. "You know, weapons. Guns. Who's doing that?"
   Eddie held his arm out, saying: "You're talking to him." A long pause. "You're kidding, right?"
"Kidding?" In answer, the head technician smacked a metal case down on a workbench, flipping a couple latches. He opened it, revealing a heavy silver rifle, an aluminum canister hanging beneath the barrel.
"Lindstradt air rifle. Fires a subsonic Fluger impact-delivery dart." He cracked open the cartridge bank, revealing a row of plastic containers filled with straw-colored liquid. Each is tipped with a three inch needle and carried a bright yellow warning tag that said–"EXTREME DANGER! LETHAL TOXICITY!"
"Does it work better than your satellite phone?"
"That's funny. I loaded the enhanced venom of Conus purpurascens, the South Sea cone shell. Most powerful neurotoxin in the world, according to many animal experts. Acts within a two-thousandth of a second, which is faster than the nerve-conduction velocity. So the animal's down before it feels the prick of the dart."
"Is there an antidote?"
"Like if you shot yourself in the foot? Don't do that. You'd be dead before you realized you had an accident."
"Wicked cool."said a young voice from behind. The two men turned around to meet Kelly Malcolm, an African-American girl around twelve years old, standing behind them, undoubtedly awed and impressed by all the goings-on in the warehouse. She then turned to the scientist with a smile. "Hi, Dad."
"Kelly!"exclaimed Malcolm happily, embracing his daughter. "You found it! What took you so long?"
"Sorry. I couldn't get a cab."she replied, all smiles, for her spring break vacation had just started.
"I uhh.. have to talk to you." Kelly's smile immediately disappeared as she now regarded her father's serious expression suspiciously.
**** Several Minutes Later...****
"I don't even know this woman."mumbled the twelve year old, swiveling around in a spinning office chair. She and her father were currently upstairs in a small office. Malcolm was leaning against the desk.
"What're you talking about? It's Karen. You've known her for ten years."
"She doesn't even have Netflix. She's such a troglodyte."
"Cruel, but good word use."murmured the scientist with a slight smile.
"Why can't I stay with Sarah?"
"Because, Sarah is– out of town. Karen's fantastic though. She'll take you to the museum, to the movies, horseback riding, you're going to have a fantastic time."
"Stop saying 'fantastic'!"interjected Kelly before she demanded: "Where are you going anyway?"
"That I can't tell you. Come on, it's only gonna be a few days. I wouldn't go if it wasn't a life–" here Malcolm stopped himself before he finished, "if it wasn't extremely important."
"I'm your daughter all the time. You can't just abandon me whenever opportunity knocks."
"That hurts my feelings."he replied quietly. "Did your mom tell you to say that?"
"No, Dad.  I have thoughts of my own once in a while."
  Just then, Eddie's voice could be heard over the intercom. "Dr. Malcolm, downstairs please.."
"I thought you appreciated the fact that I treat you like an adult. Do you want to be patronized and condescended to like other kids?"
"But I want you to crack on me a little bit!"the preteen explained as she left her seat, waving her hands in the air. "You know, ground me or something, send me to my room. You never do any of that stuff." She then dropped down onto a nearby table. Malcolm took a seat next to her, looking her in the eye.
"That stuff never worked with you, Kelly. Not once. You–you're your own person, always have been. You don't need a parent, you just need someone to pay the rent and try to keep up with you until you take over the world. You amaze me. The queen, goddess, my inspiration."
"Dr. Malcolm!" Eddie called out a bit more impatiently.
"I could come with you. I could be your research assistant, just like I was in Austin."
"This is nothing like Austin. Uh– but anyway, you got your own stuff. You got your gymnastics competition.  You've been training for months.." But that only seemed to perturb Kelly further as she replied, "Gymnastics? I scrubbed out, Dad. I got cut from the team. Thanks for knowing,"
"Oh.. I'm sorry honey.. I uh.. know how much that meant to you."he answered sheepishly.
  "You like to have kids, you just don't want to be with them, do you?" Now she had really crossed the line.
"Hey,"thundered the mathematician angrily, slamming a desk drawer shut. "I'm not the one who dumped you here, and split for Paris, okay? So don't take it out on me."
"Dr. Malcolm, downstairs!"
Malcolm's anger left as quickly as it came, and as he glances at a downcast Kelly, he immediately winced, regretting his actions. He heaved a sigh as he made his way out of he office door, pausing momentarily."
"I–I'm sorry. Look, you want some good parental advice? Don't listen to me. Don't listen to me." With that he took his leave down the stairs to meet up with the waiting technician.
  While Malcolm and Eddie argued over something in the background, Kelly circled around the trailers curiously, looking up at the windows, all made of tempered glass, fine wire mesh inside. The girl looked around to see if anybody was watching. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she quickly slipped inside the back trailer.
On the inside, the trailer is a miracle of planning and design: divided into sections, for different laboratory functions. The main area was a biological lab, with specimen trays, dissecting pans, and microscopes that were connected to video monitors. Next to it was an extensive computer section, a bank of processors, and a communication section. All the lab equipment was miniaturized and built into small tables that slide into the walls. Everything was bolted down to prevent accidents.
"This is so cool."the girl whispered to herself, marveling at all the lights and gadgets.
Moving into the front section, she then noticed a large map on the wall adjacent to a fully furnished bookshelf with natural history titles such as Modeling Adaptive Biological Systems, Vertebrate Behavioral Dynamics, Adaptation in Natural and Artificial Systems, Dinosaur Heresies, Princeton Field Guide to Dinosaurs just to name a few. Off the coast of Costa Rica, there was an area that's been circled in heavy black ink. Kelly put a finger on the map, crossing westward, through the Pacific Ocean, where dozens of islands rested, but in the highlighted region, there was a semi-circle of five: Matanceros. Muerte. Tacano. Pena. And Sorna, the largest. Underneath the whole island chain was a bold legend– "Las Cinco Muertes."
Her father's voice could still be heard from outside, but listening closely, Kelly could distinctly hear him saying to Eddie: "You heard what they said. We gotta go now if we're going to meet up with Sarah and the Wild Kratts team before sundown." A wide grin slowly crawled upon the girl's face as she practically jumped up and down with excitement.
"The Wild Kratts? Count me in!"