Micro - Michael Crichton [134]
“Sir, who are you? What is your situation?”
“I’m Daniel Minot—”
Abruptly the screen showed the woman’s face. She had a smooth, professional appearance.
“Put me through to Vin Drake, please,” he said to the woman.
“It’s late at night, sir.”
“It’s an emergency! Tell him I’m at Tantalus and I need help.”
Chapter 41
Waikiki Beach
31 October, 10:30 p.m.
Vincent Drake was seated at the best table at The Sea with his current lover, Emily St. Claire, a surfer and interior designer. The Sea overlooked Waikiki Beach, and was one of the finest restaurants in Honolulu. The table was placed in a private corner of the room by an open window that looked along the beach toward Diamond Head. A breeze wafted over them and whispered through a palm tree near the window. They had finished dinner. Emily poked at a chocolate ganache tart and sipped a glass of Château d’Yquem.
Drake swirled a snifter of single malt scotch, a 1958 Macallan. “I have to go back East for a few days.”
“What for?” Emily St. Claire said.
“To meet with some partners. Want to come?”
“Boston in November? I think not.”
The lights of houses lined up along the base of Diamond Head twinkled, and the Diamond Head Lighthouse blinked and faded.
“We could do Paris afterward,” Drake said.
“Mm,” she answered. “Maybe if we go in the Gulfstream.”
Just then, there was a buzzing sound and Drake touched his jacket. It was his encrypted corporate phone. “Excuse me,” he said, taking the phone from his jacket. He stood up and placed his napkin on the table and walked over to an open window between the tables. On the screen of his phone he could see a live video feed; the face of Danny Minot looked back at him. “You say you’re at Tantalus Base?” Drake said.
“Not exactly,” Minot answered. “We’re in Ben Rourke’s fortress.”
“What?”
“He’s got all kinds of equip—”
“You’re telling me Ben Rourke is alive?”
“Absolutely,” Minot answered knowingly. “And he doesn’t like you, Mr. Drake.”
“Describe this…fortress.”
“It’s an old rat’s nest. I need medical help—”
Drake cut him off. “Where is this, uh, rat’s nest? Exactly.”
“It’s six feet up the hillside from Tantalus Base.”
Drake was silent for a moment. They had climbed those cliffs. They had made it alive through unexplored super-jungle that should have rendered them dead in minutes.
“Mr. Drake! I need to get to a hospital!” Minot’s voice went faster. “My arm. It’s infected. Look—”
Drake watched on the screen of his phone as Danny raised his arm and peeled back the sleeve. The arm had been transformed into a bubbly sack dotted with…whiteheads. Enormous boils. The boils were…moving…twitching. Drake’s stomach turned at the sight.
“They’re hatching, Mr. Drake!” Danny moved his arm closer to the camera. The scene zoomed in, until Drake could see one of the whiteheads clearly. It was the head of a larva, struggling, pushing up through a hole in Danny’s skin. The grub’s mouth pulsed and it spat out a thread of silk. The camera moved, and he saw more grubs, waving and struggling, popping up through his skin. “Thank you, Mr. Minot, I can see very well—”
“It’s horrible! My arm’s all numb.”
“I’m sorry, Daniel—” He felt his throat tighten. He glanced back at Emily St. Claire, who seemed impatient.
“For God’s sake, help me!” the little face on his cell phone beseeched him.
“Who is with you?” Drake said sharply, holding the phone close to his ear.
“I can’t see your face!”
Drake turned the phone so Danny could see him. “We will help you,” he said gently. “Who else is with you?”
“I want to go to a top hospital—”
“Yes, yes, a top hospital. Who is with you?”
“Karen King and Rick Hutter.”
“What about the others?”
“They’re all dead, Mr. Drake.”
“Peter Jansen is dead, too?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
“He got shot. His chest exploded. I saw it.”
“How terrible. Where are King and Hutter?”
“I don’t care about them! Get me to a hospital!”
“But where are they?”
“Asleep,” Danny said sullenly, jerking his head. “Rourke’s in the hangar.”
“Hangar? What hangar, Daniel?”
“Rourke stole some planes from Tantalus Base.