Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton Read Free Book Online Page A

the other end of the trailer, paying no attention to them. "You're probably wondering why I'm here."
        Grant nodded. "It's a long way to come, Mr. Morris."
        "Well," Morris said, "to get right to the point, the EPA is concerned about the activities of the Hammond Foundation. You receive some funding from them."
        "Thirty thousand dollars a year," Grant said, nodding. "For the last five years."
        "What do you know about the foundation?" Morris said.
        Grant shrugged. "The Hammond Foundation is a respected source of academic grants. They fund research all over the world, including several dinosaur researchers. I know they support Bob Kerry out of the Tyrrell in Alberta, and John Weller in Alaska. Probably more."
        "Do you know why the Hammond Foundation supports so much dinosaur research?" Morris asked.
        "Of course. It's because old John Hammond is a dinosaur nut."
        "You've met Hammond?"
        Grant shrugged. "Once or twice. He comes here for brief visits. He's quite elderly, you know. And eccentric, the way rich people sometimes are. But always very enthusiastic. Why?"
        "Well," Morris said, "the Hammond Foundation is actually a rather mysterious organization." He pulled out a Xeroxed world map, marked with red dots, and passed it to Grant. "These are the digs the foundation financed last year. Notice anything odd about them? Montana, Alaska, Canada, Sweden . . . They're all sites in the north. There's nothing below the forty-fifth parallel." Morris pulled out more maps. "It's the same, year after year. Dinosaur projects to the south, in Utah or Colorado or Mexico, never get funded. The Hammond Foundation only supports cold-weather digs. We'd like to know why."
        Grant shuffled through the maps quickly. If it was true that the foundation only supported cold-weather digs, then it was strange behavior, because some of the best dinosaur researchers were working in hot climates, and -
        "And there are other puzzles," Morris said. "For example, what is the relationship of dinosaurs to amber?"
        "Amber?"
        "Yes. It's the hard yellow resin of dried tree sap-"
        "I know what it is," Grant said. "But why are you asking?"
        "Because," Morris said, "over the last five years, Hammond has purchased enormous quantities of amber in America, Europe, and Asia, including many pieces of museum-quality jewelry. The foundation has spent seventeen million dollars on amber. They now possess the largest privately held stock of this material in the world."
        "I don't get it," Grant said.
        "Neither does anybody else," Morris said. "As far as we can tell, it doesn't make any sense at all. Amber is easily synthesized. It has no commercial or defense value. There's no reason to stockpile it. But Hammond has done just that, over many years."
        "Amber," Grant said, shaking his head.
        "And what about his island in Costa Rica?" Morris continued. "Ten years ago, the Hammond Foundation leased an island from the government of Costa Rica. Supposedly to set up a biological preserve."
        "I don't know anything about that," Grant said, frowning.
        "I haven't been able to find out much," Morris said. "The island is a hundred miles off the west coast. It's very rugged, and it's in an area of ocean where the combinations of wind and current make it almost perpetually covered in fog. They used to call it Cloud Island. Isla Nublar. Apparently the Costa Ricans were amazed that anybody would want it." Morris searched in his briefcase. "The reason I mention it," he said, "is that, according to the records, you were paid a consultant's fee in connection with this island."
        "I was?" Grant said.
        Morris passed a sheet of paper to Grant. It was the Xerox of a check issued in March 1984 from InGen Inc., Farallon Road, Palo Alto, California. Made out to Alan Grant In the amount of twelve thousand dollars. At the lower corner, the check