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giving boring talks at conventions full of equally boring scientists theorizing about everything except what was going on right under their nose.
    Alex decided to switch the conversation to an arena where he stood a chance.
    “So, heard from mom lately?”
    Marcus tensed, and Alex could see his reflection in the glass. Flinching. “Ironically, yes. Just yesterday.”
    “Oh, how’s her health?”
    “You know your mother, talks about everyone else’s problems. Never her own.”
    “Well, I can tell you. She’s not doing well.”
    Marcus nodded. “Kind of figured, but how would you know? All she wanted to ask about was you. Appears she hadn’t heard from you either, in a year at least.” He leveled a glare at Alex. “So, it’s not just your wayward father that you reserve your apathy for?”
    “That’s not fair.”
    Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not having this conversation, not now. I told her you would most likely turn up somewhere in custody and needing one or both of us to bail you out again. I just never imagined it would be here.” He sighed. “What the hell were you thinking?”
    “I was thinking of making the biggest point, the largest splash possible. Given the circumstance. Exposing—”
    “Yes, yes, I get it. All the corporate greed and worldwide hypocrisy, but did it have to be here? Now? You have no idea who it is that’s bankrolling this operation.”
    Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, we were quite aware. How you got into bed with someone who’s the worst kind of monster, one who claims to be a philanthropist.”
    “DeKirk is paying the bills and this… this is good work, damn it. Important work.”
    “Unlike what I do?”
    Marcus closed his eyes and shook his head. “I have no idea what it is you do, son. Other than get in trouble and drag everyone else down into hell with you.”
    The barb stung, and coming right on the heels of his guilt about leaving Tony, and Alex had no comeback. Instead, he decided to shift back to the unfamiliar arena, where at least he wasn’t a target. “So where are the others? The Cryos or whatever he called them?”
    Marcus pointed to a pair of ordinary-looking shipping containers at the edge of the pit. “Already packed and ready for their trip.”
    Alex whistled. “They were…in the same condition? Preserved?”
    “They were. Flesh-on-bones. Same strata, and I have a theory that the bites and tears what you saw on the T. rex ? Might have been from these little critters.”
    “Did you say they were sub-adults?”
    “Right, from their bone structure and general traits that’s our thinking. Only twenty feet long, a ton in weight. Early Jurassic period, the only carnivorous dinosaur discovered up until…well, our other friend down there. Cryos as you called them, have a crest on the tops of their heads, and are probably capable of color distortion for mating and battle purposes. A real amazing specimen, one I can’t wait to explore at length, if DeKirk will still allow me that honor.”
    Alex shrugged. “Sorry for almost blocking you from playing with your toys.”
    “Alex—”
    “No, listen. I…wait, what’s going on down there?” He pointed to the cranes, which were straining, then sharply rocking to one direction, and then the other. The spotlights spun and tracked down, and sharply back and forth.
    “Oh shit,” Marcus hissed, and rushed back to his desk, eying the monitors, sizing up the situation—a blur of images and faces. The winch cables straining and the body on the platform spinning out of control, as men were tossed from its side and others hung on.
    “It looks like a fight,” he said, grabbing the microphone.
    “No,” said Alex, “get your men out of there. Those are—the others .”
    “Who?”
    “The things. The Russians…”

 
    8.
     
    “I’m going out,” Marcus said, sounding hollow as he tried to follow the blurry and frenetic action on the screens. What the hell was happening down