Gorevitch turned on the camera. He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, but he could at least record it. He swung the lens in a slow arc, while he watched the microphone levels. Because the mike was directional, he was able to determine that the sound was coming from...the south.
Nine o'clock from where he was. He squinted through the finder, zoomed in. He could see nothing. The jungle was becoming darker every minute.
Hagar stood motionless nearby, just watching.
Now there was a crashing of branches, and Gorevitch glimpsed a shadow as it streaked across the lens. He looked up and saw the shape moving higher and higher, swinging on branches as it went up into the overhead canopy. In a few moments the orang was seventy feet in the air above them.
"Gods vloek het. Asshole wijkje. Vloek."
He took the camera off the tripod, tried to film. It was black. Nothing. Flicked on night vision. He saw nothing but green streaks as the animal moved in and out of the thick foliage. The orang was moving higher and laterally.
"Vloek het. Moeder fucker."
"Nice mouth on him." But the voice was growing fainter.
Gorevitch realized he had a decision to make, and quickly. He set the camera down and reached for the rifle. He swung it up and sighted down the scope. Military night vision, bright green, very clear. He saw the ape, saw the eyes glowing white dots -
Hagar said, "No!"
The orang jumped to another tree, suspended in space for an instant.
Gorevitch fired.
He heard the hiss of gas and thethwack of the dart smacking the leaves.
"Missed him." He raised the rifle again.
"Don't do this - "
"Shut up." Gorevitch sighted, fired.
In the trees above, there was a momentary pause in the thrashing sound.
"You hit him," Hagar said.
Gorevitch waited.
The crashing of leaves and branches began again. The orang was moving, now almost directly overhead.
"No, I didn't." Gorevitch raised the gun once more.
"Yes, you did. If you shoot again - "
Gorevitch fired.
A whoosh of gas near his ear, then silence. Gorevitch lowered the gun and moved to reload it, keeping his eyes on the canopy overhead. He crouched down, flicked open his metal case, and felt for more cartridges. He kept looking upward the whole time.
Silence.
"You hit him," Hagar said.
"Maybe."
"I know you hit him."
"No, you don't." Gorevitch popped three more cartridges into the gun. "You don't know that."
"He's not moving. You hit him."
Gorevitch took his position, raised the rifle, just in time to see a dark shape come plummeting downward. It was the orang, falling straight down from the canopy more than 150 feet above them.
The animal crashed to the ground at Gorevitch's feet, splattering mud. The orang didn't move. Hagar swung a flashlight.
Three darts protruded from the body. One in the leg, two in the chest. The orang was not moving. The animal's eyes were open, staring upward.
"Great," Hagar said. "Great work."
Gorevitch dropped to his knees in the mud, put his mouth over the orang's big lips, and blew air into his lungs, to resuscitate him.
CHapter 052
Six attorneyssat at the long table, all shuffling through papers. It sounded like a windstorm. Rick Diehl waited impatiently, biting his lip. Finally Albert Rodriguez, his head attorney, looked up.
"The situation is this," Rodriguez said. "You have good reason - sufficient reason, anyway - to believe that Frank Burnet conspired to destroy the cell lines in your possession, so that he could sell them again to some other company."
"Right," Rick said. "Fucking right."
"Three courts have ruled that Burnet's cells are your property. You therefore have a right to take them."
"You mean, take themagain. "
"Correct."
"Except the guy has gone into hiding."
"That is inconvenient. But it does not change the material facts of the situation. You are the owner of the Burnet cell line," Rodriguez said. "Wherever those cells may occur."
"Meaning..."
"His children. His grandchildren. They probably have the same cells."
"You mean, I can take cells from the kids?"
"The cells are your property," Rodriguez said.
"What if the kids don't agree to let me take them?"
"They may very well not agree. But since the cells are your property, the children don't have any say in the matter."
"We're talking punch biopsies of liver and spleen, here," Diehl said. "They're not exactly minor procedures."
"They're not exactly major, either," Rodriguez said. "I believe they are ordinary outpatient procedures. Of course, you would have a duty to make sure that the cell extractions were performed by a competent physician. I assume you would."
Diehl frowned. "Let me see if I understand. You're telling me I can just grab his kids off the street and haul them to a doctor and remove their cells? Whether they like it or not?"
"I am. Yes."
"And how," Rick Diehl said, "can that be legal?"
"Because they are walking around with cells that are legally yours, hence with stolen property. That's felony two. Under the law, if you witness a felony being committed, you are entitled to perform a citizen's arrest, and take the offender into custody. So if you were to see Burnet's children walking on the street, you could legally arrest them."
"Me, personally?"
"No, no," Rodriguez said. "In these circumstances one avails oneself of a trained professional - a fugitive-recovery agent."