Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

De Cremonese thought long and hard. It was clear he struck a nerve, and confronting Mulder now might just close him up even more. “When we spoke a few months ago, we discussed the consequences of your, um, experiments on humans.”

“I asked you, as a scientist and man of the cloth, your professional opinion on how you thought the church and the government would react to my experiments. If you thought I should go public or not.”

“And I told you then, and I will tell you again, I think that what you’re suggesting is unethical, and I think the public will think so too. But what I came for was to find out if there was any connection between the kidnapping and your experiments.”

“What are you suggesting?” Mulder snapped again.

“I’m not suggesting anything. I just thought that if what you told me about your experiments got out somehow, it might be connected to the kidnapper’s opinion of you playing God.”

“Only a handful of people know about my plans, and I trust all of them explicitly.”

“You trust me?” De Cremonese asked.

The corner of Mulder’s mouth curved up. “I trust you enough that you won’t break the seal of confession.” He looked at his watch. “Now, if that’s all? I expect the police any minute now to inform me about the status of the investigation.”

De Cremonese rose from his chair. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I will,” Mulder replied. “I trust you’ll find your way out?”

Chapter 19 – Number Twenty-Six

Reserva Indígena Mashco-Piro, Peru, Three Months Ago

The missionary station had been abandoned since the late 1990s, when the Peruvian government decided the so-called “controlled contact” was no longer in the best interest of the Mashco-Piro tribe members. The station—about a mile from the Mashco-Piro shabono—now served as basecamp for Mulder’s expedition. It was the ideal location from where to operate, since the Mashco-Piro avoided the place like the plaque. To them, it was a place of the Jáahuipirácaná, the dog, as they had called Father Ignatius, after he tried to approach them several times, at the shabono and the riverbed. At first, the locals were curious, but days later, Father Ignatius was driven from the shabono with spears and bows and arrows. After another month of trying, the government revoked the permit, and “the dog” left the country.

The three cabins, built for Father Ignatious and his servants, now offered a workplace for Logynous employees. One cabin served as a kitchen as well as flight-control center for the drones that roamed the skies day and night. Another cabin was furnished with lab equipment, complete with a DNA sequencer, mass spectrometer, a flow cytometer, imaging systems, microtomes, surgical instruments and histology equipment. The third cabin functioned as sleeping quarters for the three scientists working the location.

“So, what do you think?” Mulder asked, after giving Jennifer a tour of the location.

“It’s cozy,” Jennifer replied, taking a water bottle from her backpack.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get your own sleeping arrangements.” Mulder pointed to a small open space next to the three cabins, where locally contracted native Peruvians were building floors and setting up tents. “Did you already get your daily physical?”

“I did,” Jennifer replied. “Cotrina is nice and thorough.”

“I know. I’ve worked with Dr. Ahlström for almost four years. She’s one of the brightest neuroscientists in the world and a wonderful person. I’m incredibly happy I was able to convince her to abandon her position at the Stockholm Brain Institute to come work for me. I know I said it before, but I’m thrilled you decided to join me.”

“I am too,” Jennifer replied.

“Follow me, please.” Mulder started walking. “So, these are the three main cabins,” he pointed out. “Lab, kitchen slash flight control center and sleeping facilities. Oh, and very important. Follow the path over there.” He pointed behind the place, where the tents were being set up. “There you will find the bathrooms and toilet facilities. Mucho más importante,” he joked, as they walked into one of the cabins. “This is the drone control center,” he explained. “From here, we monitor the movements of all tribe members. But who am I to explain?” He turned to a blond, freckled man in his thirties, wearing a T-shirt, shorts and sandals. “If you please?”

“It’s my pleasure,” the man spoke in a German accent. “I’m Martin Stromberg, expedition leader.”

“Jennifer Porter.” She shook his hand.

“I know. Your reputation precedes you. How are you now? Any special feelings?”

Jennifer smiled. “Nothing specific.”

“If you don’t mind?” Mulder stepped away. “I will leave you alone with Martin for a moment. I have some business outside. Martin and I go way back, so I’m sure you’ll be fine in his capable hands.”

Jennifer nodded.

“I’ll see you later.” He left the cabin.

“So, what do you do here?” Jennifer asked, looking at a row of computer screens.

“We watch and analyze,” Stromberg replied. “Mainly, we watch from the skies and analyze poop.”

“Yuck.” Jennifer curled her nose.

“It sounds dirtier than it is. We use any measures possible to analyze the Mashco-Piro without invasion or letting them even know we’re here. Fortunately for us, they don’t use a toilet but like the bears they, um... well, you understand. So, we gather the feces from the woods and analyze it in our lab in one of the other cabins. We have a small but excellent equipped mobile lab set-up.”

“And this?” Jennifer pointed at the row of monitors.

Stromberg pushed a key on one of the keyboards, and all the monitors came on. “From here, we monitor the movement of a series of individual tribe members. We have drones in the air over the area of the shabono most of the day and night. The drones are equipped with the most sophisticated cameras and sensors money can buy. You see here?” He pointed to the first monitor. “Here you see a live image of the shabono.” The screen displayed a crisp image of the shabono’s round rooftop.

“Are those....”

“Indeed, they are,”