Chapter 1
"Vicious little beasts, aren't they?"
The words, spoken with ominous disaster, came from a white-haired old man in a white lab coat. Seated patiently, he watched as a host of red army ants, some as large as his thumb, attacked what he had dispassionately dropped into the aquarium. The ants overwhelmed the rat in seconds, killing it almost instantly with venom, then devouring it. In three minutes a haggard skeleton was all that remained.
Dr. Angus Tipler clicked a stopwatch, staring down. "Yes," he frowned, "utterly vicious."
He turned to others in the laboratory of the Tipler Institute, the leading crypto-zoological foundation in the world. His face portrayed consternation. "What are we to do with them?" he asked, almost to himself. "They kill with venom long before they dismember their prey." He looked back. "Yes, and so we must therefore devise some type of… serum, if for no other reason so that people will stop bothering us all the time. Has anyone concluded the molecular weight of the poison?"
A woman bent over an enormous electron microscope positioned neatly in the center of the room muttered in reply. "Not yet, Doctor. I need another minute."
Dr. Tipler said nothing as he turned back to the aquarium where the ants were safely — very safely — contained. The rest of the laboratory was filled with virtually every poisonous animal in the world, insect and mammal and reptile. There were black scorpions, Indian cobras, adders and stonefish, brown recluse spiders and the lethal Sydney funnel web, the most dangerous spider in the world. A single unfelt bite from the tiny arachnid would kill a full-grown man within a day. It was Tipler himself who had created the anti-venom.
"It seems this venom is neuromuscular in nature," he said in a raspy, harsh voice into a recorder. He waved off the video technician who had recorded the grisly episode. "The venom, no matter the location of injection, seems to infiltrate the ligamentum denticulatum, thereby bridging the pons Varolii to decussate the involuntary respiratory abilities of the medulla oblongata. Now, if we can—"
"Dr. Tipler?"
Tipler raised bushy white eyebrows as he turned, seeing a young woman scientist with long black hair. The Asian woman was obviously apprehensive at the intrusion, despite the old man's well-known patient nature.
"Yes, Gina?" His voice was gentle. "What is it?"
"There are some men to see you, sir."
Tipler laughed, waving a hand as he turned away. "There are always men to see me, lass. Tell them to wait. The commissary should still be open. They serve an excellent roast chicken. It is my best recommendation."
"I don't think these men will wait, sir." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. Her eyes widened slightly. "There are three of them, and they're wearing uniforms."
Tipler barked a short laugh. "Uniforms! What sort of uniforms?"
"Army uniforms, sir."
Tipler laughed again and shook his head as he rose. "All right, Gina. Assist Rebecca in discovering the molecular weight of this venom. And, also, if you would be so kind, extract venom from, oh… let's say fifty of these infernal creatures. Just sedate them with chloroform and use the electroshock method — the same procedure we use for the black widows." He removed his glasses with a sigh and stood up. "And I will deal with these impatient men in uniforms."
"Yes, sir. They're waiting in the observation room."
"Thank you, lass."
Upon seeing the three, Dr. Tipler stopped short. He had been told often enough that, upon first impression, he was not an imposing figure, so he had no illusions. At seventy-two years of age he was short and thick with a wide brow and snowy hair laid back from the forehead. But he knew that his eyes, blue like Arctic ice, distinguished him from other men both with their startling color and their equally startling intelligence. And equally their quickness to perceive the heart of a mystery. And it was that perceptiveness, a blending of art, science and intuition that had made the world's eminent paleontologist and crypto-zoologist.
Crypto-zoology was in itself an almost unknown area of biological expertise. Fewer than a dozen distinguished scientists in the world practiced it with any measure of dedication. And, for the most part, few scientists realized that it was practiced at all. But, in essence, it was a systematic and highly rigid system of investigation designed to determine whether species thought to be extinct still inhabited the planet.
Tipler had known significant success in various stages of his career, discovering the last surviving Atacama condors in the Andes Mountains of Chile in 1983, and later discovering a species identified as the blind stonefish, off the northern coast of Greenland. The deep-water fish had been thought extinct since the Paleolithic Period, but Tipler had pieced together a theory that they still existed in the south-flowing East Greenland Current, which drew directly from the Arctic Sea. He held even further suspicions that the fish existed higher in the Arctic Circle, protected by the vast ice caps of the pole. But a lack of funding had prevented further exploration.
However, his startling discoveries had earned him a modest measure of global recognition, which consequently delivered the attention of several wealthy philanthropists who deemed his unique nonprofit enterprise worthy of endorsement. So, with significant funding and a larger, better-trained staff, he had founded the Tipler Institute. Now, a decade later, he was recognized universally as the world's leading expert on unknown species, and their extinction or survival. Along the way he had also gained significant exposure to deadly snakes, fish, and spiders and discovered, to his own surprise, that he had a remarkable acumen for pinpointing the molecular characteristics of each type of venom.
Studying venom was, at first, simply a means of aiding those few medical institutions already overwhelmed trying to keep apace with the new strains of poison. But through a working relationship with the Centers for Disease Control, Tipler also joined the crusade, synthesizing over a dozen effective anti-venoms over the past decade. Nor did he find it distracting. Although he was an increasingly sought-after author, lecturer, and researcher, his greatest pleasure remained the simple pursuit of biological science.
From time to time, however, agencies not academic had sought his aid. And he had assisted. Once the Central Intelligence Agency had requested that he do what their physicists could not; develop a counteracting agent for a deadly poison in use by Middle Eastern countries. Tipler had succeeded and consequently heard no more of it. And last, the U.S. Army had asked him, rather sternly, if he could not identify a substance in their own anti-germ warfare serums that tended to incapacitate soldiers. In this, too, Tipler was successful, and modifications were made in the synthesis of the serums. Again, he heard no more of it. Yet he knew they would return, as they had.
A thin smile creased his squared face.
Before him, he knew from his World War II days as an infantryman, was an army lieutenant colonel, whose rank he identified from the silver oak leaves on his uniform. There was another man in uniform, a major, and an unknown representative who wore nondescript civilian clothes. But, as always, it was the man in civilian clothes who commanded Tipler's attention, for he was accustomed to subterfuge. Tipler greeted them as the man in the rear silently lit a cigarette, settling into a chair.
"Dr. Tipler, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Bob Maddox," the short, gray-haired man said distinctly. "This is Major Preston Westcott. And that" — the colonel gestured vaguely—"is Mr. Dixon. He's a liaison with the Department of the Interior."
Tipler smiled as he weighed the colonel; the army officer carried himself with an air of indisputable authority, as if his self-worth relied upon his rank. His insignia were so highly polished they couldn't be overlooked, even by civilians. His face was slightly pudgy and his stomach strained against his uniform. He held his hands behind his back as he spoke. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Doctor. I assure you that we won't take up too much of your time."