Yeti Unleashed Page 16

  “No,” Dixie said, pleading. “Please, Harry, don’t let them do this.”

  “Extermination,” Calder said. “It’s the only answer.”

  “Sheriff,” Harry said. “Please listen to reason. These Yeti are valuable scientific specimens. You can’t just kill them. It would be an injustice to science.”

  “This is not a time for scientific debate, Doctor. When we locate these murdering creatures, I intend to take them out. That’s final.”

  “But what if Dr. Siscom can tranquilize them? We can take them back to the primate facility. Killing them wouldn’t be necessary. I implore you to reconsider.”

  “Doctor,” Calder said, “this is my call. We do it my way or you can leave the area.”

  “No!” Dixie screamed. “I won’t let you do this!”

  Another Elko Sheriff’s jeep pulled up with deputies Ben and Louis inside.

  “Great. Now we can get started.” Calder stepped over to the jeep’s open window. “You boys brought your rifles? You’re gonna need them today.”

  “Got our 30-06s in the rear, Sheriff,” Ben said from the driver’s side. “What’s the plan?”

  Dixie took Harry’s arm and listened.

  “Those animals have been here,” Calder said. “Just look around. We have two dead bodies. They may still be roaming about town so we need to split up, fan out, and do a door-to-door search. The main roads are vacant so folks know what’s going on. The sooner we take them out, the better, before they kill again.”

  “For all we know there may be more bodies,” Drayton said. “But I agree with the doctors. Killing them would be another tragedy. If these creatures are indeed related to us, then we owe it to humanity to study them and learn as much as we possibly can. Killing them isn’t the right thing to do.”

  “It’s too hot to argue,” Calder said, stepping in front of Harry and Dixie. “We do this my way, or you can go home. If I have to call the state police, I will. Now, let’s get moving before these animals can do any more harm.”

  ***

  The dirty flophouse in San Francisco’s Chinatown neighborhood was dim, illuminated only by a single bare light bulb that hung by a wire from the ceiling. Its only occupants were two men who sat opposite each other over a dilapidated desk. Outside, a soft breeze rattled the room’s two grimy windows while a foghorn bellowed in the distance. On the desk lay a topographic map of northern Nevada.

  “So Johnson,” the heavy-set man said, “exactly where is this Cinder Mountain?”

  “Right here, Falco,” Johnson said, pointing with a greasy finger. “The Primate Research Facility is situated on its summit.”

  “How close did you manage to get?”

  “There’s a gate that marks their property line. From there I was able to observe the facility with binoculars.” Johnson pointed on the map where he stood and surveilled the facility.

  “Security?” Falco rubbed an ill-kempt chin. His pale blue eyes reflected the soft light from the bulb above.

  “Of course. I was able to discern a tall fence with a gate. Security cameras were everywhere. It will difficult getting in but there may be an unobtrusive corner where we can cut our way through the fence. After dark we might not be seen.”

  “I wish Norma were here,” Falco said, glancing at the door. “Hopefully, she obtained more information about its layout.”

  At that moment the door opened and Norma Treadwell entered, carrying a soft valise that she dropped on the table. Both men nodded.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “The traffic was heavy.”

  “Fine,” Johnson said. “You got any more information?”

  Norma opened the valise and removed a sheaf of papers, thumbed through them. “I got this off the facility’s website. It’s a layout of the compound, where all the buildings are located.”

  The two men studied the diagram for a moment, Johnson running a finger over the sketched road leading to the main gate.

  “Looks like a guardhouse at the entrance,” he said, tapping the diagram with a dirty finger.

  “The whole compound has a security fence around it,” Falco said. “Just as you figured.”

  “Any idea what size of security force it has?” Johnson asked Norma.

  She shook her head. “Not a clue.” She removed her coat and leaned back in her chair, eyes on Johnson. “Think it’s possible?”

  “Anything is possible, Norma. It’s simply a matter of difficulty and whether it’s worth the risk. I don’t relish the idea of getting shot for nothing.”

  “Five thousand dollars isn’t nothing,” Norma said. “It all but emptied the chapter’s bank account.”

  “You got the money?” Falco said.

  Norma smiled through a smirk. “Yeah,” she said, reaching into the valise and retrieving an envelope. She passed it to Johnson. “As agreed. Half now and the rest when the job is done.”

  Johnson took the envelope and glanced inside. Satisfied that the money was in small bills, he turned his attention back to the map and diagram.

  A gentle rain began beating against the small room’s window while the foghorn again sounded somewhere out on the bay.

  “Have you built the device?” Norma said.

  “Not yet,” Johnson said, running a hand though his long dark hair. “Don’t have the explosive yet.”

  “What will you use?” Norma said.

  “Plastic, most likely, if I can get my hands on some. I have a contact,” Johnson replied. “I plan to use a digital clock as a detonator.”

  “We don’t need a big bomb, just one that will show the university that we mean business. We don’t want anyone killed or injured.”

  Falco stared at Norma for a few moments, scratched his grizzled face. The frown in his face deepened. “Are you for real, Norma? When you engage in something like this, there are no guarantees as to the outcome. There is always the possibility of collateral damage.”

  “You think we can explode a bomb,” Johnson interjected, “and assure that no one will be injured? Think again. If that is your expectation, you need to find someone else for this party.” He began folding his map. “Let’s go, Falco.”

  “No, wait,” Norma said. “I understand the risks. I just want to take all precautions against injury, that’s all.”

  Johnson sat back in his seat and smiled. “All right, lady,” he said. “Have it your way.”

  Chapter 18

  From their base camp in an unnamed gorge alongside an unnamed tributary of the Taber River, Rupert Lowell and his comrades made ready to remove gold ore from the mother lode just discovered. Locating the Lost Coyote Creek Mine had been a difficult undertaking, requiring much physical effort, as well as luck. The vein of pure gold was three inches wide and ran for a good hundred yards, deep into the depths of the mountain. He had followed it with Yarak until it had ended, just stopped, at a location where the railway system ended as well. Whoever had found and worked the mine in the 1800s had left before its vast treasure could be completely exploited. Now, here Lowell was, on the brink of untold wealth, if only he was able to get it out of the rock.

  The four men had brought a simple sluice that they would place in the stream and let its current wash over the dirt. Yarak and Garby worked at clearing a wide path from the stream to the mine entrance allowing for easier access. They hacked their way up the side of the gorge, sweating in the hot sun, until the path was finished.

  Lowell marveled at the job. “Great work, guys,” he said. “Now we have to pack the dirt and ore to the stream on our backs, using the backpacks. It’s gonna be hard, difficult work and I’m not looking forward to breaking my back, but we can take numerous rest breaks. After hauling the gold ore down to the stream, we’ll run the finer dirt and rocks through the sluice, picking out the gold nuggets that drop to the bottom. The bigger rocks containing gold we can drive back to a processor where they’ll be ground in a grinder and the gold extracted chemically.”

  “Are you sure this is doable, boss?”
Terkel said, the sweat pouting down his neck. “Why not get a backhoe or Bobcat up here?”

  “We may have to, Terk,” Lowell said. He took a long drink from a water bottle. “But I want to get this started as soon as possible and see what we have. It might turn out to be easier than it looks.”

  “I’ve never seen gold in the rough like that,” Garby added. His clothes were drenched from his exertion in clearing the path. “That’s pure gold, right?”

  “Pure gold, yes,” Lowell said. He smiled. “And it’s all ours unless someone finds out we’re up here.”

  “Yeah?” Terkel said. “What could happen?”

  “This is government land we’re on,” Yarak said. “Might have some government agent up here telling us we had no business being here--to leave. Boss is right, better keep this our secret. So don’t go blabbing about it back home.”

  Garby and Terkel both nodded their understanding.

  The sun dipped below the rim of the gorge as Lowell sat in a camping chair next to a flickering fire. He sipped his favorite Canadian whiskey and allowed the liquor’s effects to relax his aching muscles. It was good to be out in nature doing physical work, something so different than being behind a desk all day, trading stocks. He could look around and see the results of his labor. He understood the lure of prospecting, the focus required to locate a gold field, and the energy necessary to pull it out of the ground. They were using picks, so getting it out of the ground would be the most difficult part.

  Yarak eased into a chair next to Lowell, beer in hand. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “We did a lot of work today,” he said. “I’m bushed.”

  Lowell took a sip of his whiskey. “Tomorrow, Nash, we begin in earnest.”

  “Using the picks? It won’t be easy.”

  “No, it won’t. But if you have an easier idea, I’d like to hear it. Once we get started, it should go well. We’ll take shifts working with the picks.”

  “I figure two working with the picks and two dragging the ore down to the stream.”

  “That’s the way I figure it, Nash. After we have a pile, one of us can work the sluice.”

  “How long you plan to stay out here?” Yarak asked.

  “At least a week. Then we can go back, rest up a few days, and restock. As long as no one knows what we’re doing, we can take our own sweet time with the mine.”

  “Sounds good to me but Garby won’t be happy. The man wants action--women and dice. It’s an illness with him.”

  “I’m counting on you, Nash, to keep him under control. I don’t want any problems on this trip. Understand?”

  “Sure, boss. He’s mostly just talk anyway. But I’ll keep him in tow.”

  The stars were out and a silver moon rose over the rim of the gorge. Lowell could see about as good as during day. In the distance, a pack of coyotes yipped and howled. As their din grew louder, he reflected on the mine’s name. How apt.

  He sat in silence in front of a dying campfire until it was a heap of glowing coals. Now, he thought, the long-lost treasure was within his grasp. Lowell didn’t mind the hard work. Sure, it was rough, but the payoff in the end made it well worth it. Yarak was a good man, as close to a son as Lowell ever would have. In fact, he nearly was a father--long ago. Seemed like centuries ago. The woman who was pregnant with his child was killed in a car accident, killed by a man driving drunk and who hit her head-on. Lowell realized it had left him a bitter man with only one remaining passion--money. Someone told him once he was destroying his soul but he no longer cared about that. In his world, there was no bright line between right and wrong. It was all shades of gray. And it was in those shades of gray that Lowell lived and worked. The ethics of high finance--it was all a nebulous playing field.

  But there was a small part of him that did still care about living a good life. He never went out of his way to hurt anyone, never inflicted unnecessary pain or suffering. He sipped his whiskey and looked at the moon. It had risen in an arc from near the horizon and now was overhead. Its pale light made soft shadows out of their tent and jeep.

  An owl hooted in the distance.

  ***

  Garby and Terkel sat on a rock at the far end of camp, each drinking a beer. Garby took a big mouthful and spat it on the ground.

  “Terk,” Garby said, “I’m getting bored, all this digging. I need some relaxation. How ’bout yourself?”

  “I’m fine,” Terkel said. “I rather enjoy all this outdoor work. But I’m beat, for sure.”

  “Some cards or dice would be welcome. Maybe some whiskey instead of this swill. A woman would be nice, too.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t even think about women. Ain’t healthy.”

  Garby snorted. “What then?”

  “Me? I’m going to dream about piles of gold getting higher and higher.”

  “What you think’s gonna be our share, Terk?”

  “I dunno. Several hundred thousand at least, I would think.”

  “What’ll you do with your share,” Garby said.

  “Maybe buy a ranch and raise cattle. Maybe get married.”

  “Married? You? That’s a laugh.”

  “How about you, Garby?” Terkel said. “What plans have you, if any?”

  “Me? Well, first I’m going to buy a fast sports car. Then I’m going to Vegas and spend my money on the tables and women. Then, just before my money runs out, I’m going to blow my brains out.”

  Terkel laughed and shook his head. “You’re something else,” he said.

  “You trust Lowell?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? He’s always shot straight with me. Us.”

  “That we know of. Well, if we’re not goin’ anywhere, I’m going to bed.”

  Garby stood and sauntered off to the big tent where the men had their cots. As he lay in the dark, his mind mulled over what Terkel had said. Several hundred thousand dollars. A right tidy sum. Enough money to last him a few years, maybe forever. Terkel was a different story. He enjoyed teasing the man. He might take his share and head to the South Pacific where no one would ever find him.

  He heard Terkel stumble into his cot and soon was sleeping soundly. Garby’s mind was fixed on the money. As he relaxed, he decided he would stay and help Lowell for, as Terkel had said, the man had been good to him.

  He jerked awake.

  What was that?

  A noise?

  He lay on his cot and listened to the quiet breathing of Terkel, Yarak, and Lowell.

  There it was again.

  A twig snapped followed by walking. Was it walking? He couldn’t be sure. Garby listened intently, straining to hear.

  There it was again.

  There was definitely someone or something walking out in the dark.

  He reached under his cot and found his boots. After putting them on, he retrieved his pistol and wandered outside.

  The moon was no longer visible but the stars twinkled overhead. Standing at the tent entrance he scanned the dark, pistol at the ready.

  All was quiet.

  Garby strolled about the camp, peering into every dark recess, listening for any sound. After circumnavigating the campsite and seeing and hearing nothing, he returned to the tent. Must have been my imagination playing tricks, he thought.

  When he climbed onto his cot, Terkel raised up on an elbow. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  “Nothing,” Garby said. “I thought I heard something but it was nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  But as he lay in the dark, sleep would not return to Garby. He listened but there were no strange sounds the rest of the night.

  ***

  Millie worked late into the night on her research data and the Yeti genome. When a cell divided and DNA needed to be replicated, the double helix was split, and enzymes called polymerases used each of the two halves as a template for a new opposing strand. The base pairing rules ensured that the copying was exact, except for rare errors. Historically, laboratory DNA sequencing had relied on the exact same proc
ess of copying DNA. In fact, the enzymes that made copies of DNA within a cell were so efficient that biologists had used a modified polymerase to perform sequencing.

  Genome sequencing was figuring out the order of DNA nucleotides, or bases, in a genome--the order of As, Cs, Gs, and Ts that made up an organism’s DNA. The human genome was made up of over three billion of these genetic letters.

  At the Primate Research Facility high-tech machines perform sequencing. A DNA sequence that had been translated from life’s chemical alphabet into scientific shorthand might look like this:

  A-G-T-C-C-G-C-G-A-A-T-A-C-A-G-G-C-T

  That was, in this particular piece of DNA, an adenine (A) is followed by a guanine (G), which was followed by a thymine (T), which in turn was followed by a cytosine (C), another cytosine (C), and so on.

  By itself, not a whole lot. Genome sequencing was often compared to decoding, but a sequence was still very much in code. In a sense, a genome sequence was simply a very long string of letters in a mysterious language.

  When one read a sentence, the meaning was not just in the sequence of the letters but also in the words those letters made and in the grammar of the language. Similarly, the human genome was more than just its sequence.

  The genome could be compared to a book written without capitalization or punctuation, without breaks between words, sentences, or paragraphs, and with strings of nonsense letters scattered between and even within sentences. Sequencing the genome didn’t immediately lay open the genetic secrets of an entire species. Even with a rough draft of an animal’s genome sequence in hand, there was much work to be done. Millie still needed to translate those strings of letters into an understanding of how the genome worked--what the various genes that made up the genome did, how different genes were related, and how the various parts of the genome were coordinated. That was, she must figure out what those letters of the genome sequence meant. A scientifically complicated affair.