Hamilton continued with only the faintest air of superiority. Apparently he knew he'd overplayed his hand and had quickly and gracefully retreated to a pedantic analysis of the theory. He could have been teaching a biology class at a university.
"Further, I have no idea how, in according with the laws of genetics as I understand them, such a thing would be possible." He hesitated, as if someone might offer an idea. "DNA, under perfect conditions, may sustain its molecular structure for two or three thousand years," he continued. "And, in fact, there are documented instances in which it has. However, if I am correct, this is a creature which Dr. Tipler presumes to be from the Pleistocene epoch, which dissipated an incredible ten thousand years past. Now, that is an amazingly long period of time for DNA to withstand destruction. And to be brutally frank with you and Mr. Hunter and, of course, Dr. Tipler, whom I hold with respect, I find it inconceivable that DNA, or even heme units of blood, could survive half that time."
He shook his head, as if estimating.
"No," he added firmly, "think what you will of me, gentlemen. I know that you hold me in suspicion of untoward activity. And, in a sense, your suspicions are correct. There are, indeed, some classified purposes of these research stations which I cannot reveal. Why else do you believe its supervising administration is secreted at Langley?" He smiled warmly before continuing. "However, there is nothing that involves the scenario I have perceived from Mr. Hunter. The most I can do for all of you is offer my opinion on the probability of such an event transpiring, and I would have to say that it is beyond calculation. It would be odds of one against many tens of billions that heme units would survive such a period of time. Then, again, it would be odds of trillions against one that these units could be reconstituted in some speculative, and probably quite immoral, adventure of science with such startling success. No, I begrudge Mr. Hunter nothing. We had a disagreement of minds, and for that I apologize. I will admit that, with a rude presumption of my own superior learning in the sciences, I treated you with arrogance. I am a man disposed to such arrogance, something I must constantly guard against. But to imagine such a phenomenon is…well, it is simply beyond me, gentlemen. I am at your disposal to assist in whatever means are necessary. But I cannot in good conscience agree with a theory for which I do not have verifiable evidence or even theoretical explanations."
Hunter half-smiled, shook his head. "And then there's common sense, Doctor."
Turning his head, Hamilton again appeared to raise an invisible guard. "Common sense," he said. "And why, Mr. Hunter, would common sense lead me to believe that something which I believe is scientifically impossible could occur?"
Hunter tilted his head toward the window where a gathering dark had already activated automatic security lamps on the wall. It would be another thirty minutes before it was dark enough for the gigantic spotlights that would sweep the compound through the night. He looked back at Hamilton without emotion.
"In the last week, Doctor, you've lost three one-million-dollar installations. Several hundred personnel. Some creature — and it's not an animal — has been searching one research station after another, looking for something that you have. Now, common sense tells me that these research stations are important to it. And so far, Doctor, you're the only one who has told me that these installations aren't so important. Why is that?"
Hamilton's anticipated line of retreat was more polished on its execution. "Mr. Hunter, I know you are not a fool. You are a learned man, a philanthropist, an expert on ecology, and an internationally respected survival expert. I am none of those. I am simply a scientist — nothing unique or special — who operates under a policy of full disclosure to the Senate Intelligence Subcommittee. To whom I report four times each year. You have theories, and they may be good theories, and you may even be correct. But the simple truth — if you accept that as common sense — is that I personally find your theory inconceivable and therefore honestly voice my disagreement." He accented it with a stare. "If you had one shred of evidence to support such a fantastic proposal, I would listen most passionately. However, you only have a suspicion for which I find no verification. We may not practice full disclosure, Mr. Hunter, but we are not mad scientists conducting some irresponsible genetic experiment gone so terribly wrong that it cost several hundred innocent men and women their lives!"
Hunter said nothing, and Hamilton's expression revealed that he was finished, both listening and expounding. After a moment of dull silence he turned to Chaney. "Do you currently have any questions for me, Marshal? I came to ensure the welfare of Dr. Tipler, who appears to be recovering nicely. If you do not, then I shall return to the lab. They are conducting classified experiments which require a supervisor for verification."
"Just a couple," Chaney replied. "But I'll make it quick. How many floors are there to this complex, Doctor?"
"Well, there are three floors aboveground and one below, Marshal. It is only a storage area, or warehouse, you might say, for the facility. All of the scientific equipment is located on this floor, and the other floors are dedicated to offices and barracks for the military personnel and medical…uh, I mean, staff personnel."
"I'd like a tour of the basement," Chaney said. "I want to see what kind of equipment you're housing."
"Of course, Marshal. I have nothing to hide. I can also provide you with a tour of the barracks and science facilities if you so desire. I assure that you will have no suspicions afterwards." He lifted his wrist to examine his watch. "I still have a little time. If you like, we could do it now and get it over with."
"Right now is fine."
Hamilton exhaled, as if he were dealing with children that he must reluctantly indulge. "Very well, then. Though I doubt that you'll be able to conduct a full inventory. No matter; we can complete it tomorrow." He raised an arm to invite the tour. "We can begin now if you wish."
Chaney walked forward.
Hunter caught a momentary grimace on the doctor’s face. A flash — less than a tenth of a second — that was subdued by the friendliest of smiles. "It will no doubt be brief because there is nothing to see," he added. "Unless, of course, you enjoy skulking about seemingly endless rows of cardboard boxes filled with computer equipment, food, blankets, or replacement parts for vehicles. You can understand that, up here, so far into the mountains, we must remain quite self-sufficient. It is necessary to keep at least a six-month supply of everything available at all times." He focused with the air of a busy man too long detained. "Could we begin immediately, Marshal?"
"That's fine with me." Chaney nodded and looked at Brick. "Get a feel for the place. I can handle this."
Hunter turned his head to Ghost: "Guard."
Ghost rose on hind legs and put both paws on Tipler's bed, staring down, panting. The old man laughed, and the great black wolf began pacing back and forth before the door opening. Nothing mortal was coming inside without permission.
Hunter turned to Chaney. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go along. I wouldn't mind taking a look around that place myself."
"Got no objections at all," Chaney said, lifting the Weatherby .454 from the desk. He snapped open the breach to make sure two mammoth brass shells were chambered and closed it with a sharp iron click. Holding the weapon midway, in perfect balance, he said, "Let's go, Professor. You're the tour guide."