Chapter 12: Tabula Rasa

The ice cubes clinked in the small glass as it was turned slowly in the withered hand, the rich auburn liquid flowing from side to side, swelling over the bulges of the ice. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the only light available came from a few candles which burned in brackets on the walls. John Hammond stared down into his glass as he listened to the voices emanating from the large television set.

"So what you're saying is that there's a conspiracy?" said a female voice off-screen.

"No, but those people didn't die in any gas leak," said Ian Malcolm's voice, his vocalisations scratchier on TV than they were in real life.

"But Doctor," said the female reporter, "the bodies were recovered, and they were burnt badly. What else could it have been?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that. All I can say is that the public is being lied to."

"Now, Dr. Malcolm, an InGen spokesperson has responded to your accusations, saying that you're selling wild stories to the press—"

Hammond clicked the power button on the remote control, and the TV cut her voice of mid-sentence, the screen becoming uniform black instantly. The flames of the candles around him were reflected in the glass. He shifted slightly in the large leather armchair, and looked up.

Peter Ludlow stood stiffly four feet from the door, the thick carpet threatening to envelop his expensive shoes. He stared directly at his uncle, unmoving, simply waiting for him to speak.

"It is finished, then?" said Hammond finally, and took a sip of whisky.

"It is," said Ludlow. "The animals have been destroyed by the US army; they used napalm. Our people moved in afterwards and retrieved the bodies of the deceased, as you may have heard," he nodded to the television.

"What about our equipment? Do we have to worry about any reverse engineering from the wreckage?"

Ludlow shook his head, and clasped his hands in front of him, as if proud of himself for having the competence to think through all the details. "We're deconstructing the buildings on the islands. It'll take a while, everything is burned. And we're being forced to pay compensation to the Costa Ricans for the damage to island. It was only leased. Not that the US army is going to help us out there."

"How did Henry do?"

"We have all of the data files on archive now. The GAP files are complete. He also managed to retrieve a full set of embryos from the Cryo-Storage lab. I've sent them to the vault underneath the headquarters building."

Hammond nodded, simply taking another drink. He sighed in distant appreciation, and then said, "How is the army reacting?"

"Fining us for forcing them to act in such a manner, but we weren't breaking any Costa Rican laws, so they can't do anything else."

"Will they let the story go public?"

"They could. But they won't; why start a panic when you can just cover it up?"

Hammond nodded again. He puts his fingers to his temples, and massaged his head gently, thinking things over. Ludlow simply stood, waiting. John looked up, and saw that Ludlow was waiting to tell him something.

"Is there anything else?" he said, setting his glass down on the coffee table beside him.

"The tropical storm surges we were monitoring over the Las Cinco Muertes islands got far worse yesterday. Hurricane Clarissa passed right over Isla Sorna. From what our satellite images tell us our facilities were hit hard; it'll cost more to restore it than it would to start again somewhere else."

"What happened to the animals?"

"It appears that most of them survived, according to infrared scans. They were released from their holding pens before we evacuated to give them the best chance to find cover."

Hammond shook his head. "An act of God, as it were," he muttered.

He chucked to himself lightly at Ludlow's strained expression. "We leave Sorna for the time being. Cover it up, keep it from the public."

"That would be very expensive, Uncle," said Ludlow, taking a step forwards.

"It doesn't matter what it costs, Peter. The world isn't ready for this."

Ludlow seemed to have an idea occur to him suddenly, and his eyes became animated, his hands wringing. "What if we sent in a team? We can send a full scale expedition to Isla Sorna, the best that money can buy. We can get the animals now while they're still young, and bring them back to the mainland. We can save millions; get the company back on track."

John looked at him for a moment, taking single, deep breath. And then he shook his head minutely. "No, Peter. The island will remain hidden."

"How long do you really think that you can keep something like this a secret, Uncle?

Hammond looked up at him for several moments; a long, piercing stare. "For as long as I can. One way or another; something will survive.'