He opened the first of a double set of locked doors; as soon as they had stepped inside, the doors automatically closed behind them, sealing them in the antechamber. A moment later the second set of doors was released. Then they were in the lab itself. Jerry did his best to explain what was going on, but when the talk began to involve DNA and genetic engineering, Blake was lost.

"And now," Jerry Harris announced nearly an hour later, after they'd left the labs and returned to the first floor, "we come to my personal favorite part of the whole installation." He pushed open a door and they stepped into a long, sky-lit room, with cages along one wall. "The animal room," Jerry said, his voice taking on a note of excitement that went beyond anything Blake had heard before that morning. He grinned like a kid. "I must come in here at least three times a day," he said. They walked slowly along the row of cages. At almost every one of them Jerry stopped to murmur to the mice, rats, or guinea pigs. When they came to a cage full of white rabbits, Jerry opened the door and carefully lifted one of the animals out. He cradled it gently in his hands, and Blake was instantly reminded of his own son. Jerry seemed to read his mind.

"It was Mark who got me started. I always liked Robb's guinea pigs, but there's something about rabbits that always gets to me. I guess they always seem so friendly or something."

Blake's brows pulled together in a puzzled frown. "But they're lab animals, aren't they?"

Jerry's eyes clouded for a moment, then cleared. "I guess I just try not to think about that," he said quietly. "I try not to get too attached to any of them, but sometimes, well-" He broke off suddenly and put the rabbit back in the cage. "Come on," he said. "Let's go take a look at the monkeys."

They moved to the end of the room where, in a large cage well equipped with rings, bars, and branches of trees, a small troop of spider monkeys chattered amongst themselves. As they approached, the monkeys fell silent, their wary eyes gazing suspiciously at the two men for a long moment, until, as if satisfied about something, their attention shifted back to one another and they returned to their grooming and murmuring.

"They recognize people, you know," Jerry said quietly. "They were looking to see if one of us was the lab tech. They always know that that means one of them is going to be taken away and not brought back. I've been thinking of having someone different do it each time, but I'm afraid if I did, the troop might become frightened of everyone."

They watched the monkeys silently for a few minutes, then Jerry Harris turned away. "Well, back to the grind, I suppose," he sighed.

They were no more than five steps from the big cage when they heard a loud screech of pure animal fury and both men spun around to see a large male-almost a third larger than any of the others-reach out and grab one of the smaller males around the neck. Its eyes glittering with rage, the larger one sank its teeth into the smaller one's shoulder, and then, as the smaller one began to scream in agony, the larger animal began shaking it.

Blake stared at the two monkeys in shock, but Jerry Harris instantly reached out and hit a button on the wall. A loud bell began to ring, the doors at the far end of the room flew open, and three attendants came running toward them.

"The hose!" Harris called. "Bring the hose!"

While two of the attendants advanced toward the cage, the third wheeled back and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he was clutching the nozzle of a fire hose that snaked out behind him.

The smaller of the two monkeys was already dying, blood spurting from the torn artery in its neck. But the bigger one, apparently oblivious to the crimson fluid with which it was being drenched, kept shaking the body of the smaller one.

Finally, the attacker dropped the limp body of its victim to the floor of the cage. Grasping the now-dead creature by its feet, he began swinging it around, maniacally smashing its head against the bars of the cage.

Fighting down a wave of nausea, Blake turned away from the gruesome spectacle, but Jerry Harris, his face ashen and his jaw tight, kept watching, directing the activities of the three attendants.

"Turn on the water," he shouted. "He'll drop it as soon as you hit him."

The blast of water nearly knocked the attendant who was holding the nozzle off his feet. But as Harris had predicted, the large monkey, still screaming with rage, dropped the corpse of its victim. Immediately he was pinned against the bars at the far end of the cage.

While the attendant with the hose kept the animal immobile with the pounding stream of water, another quickly fired a tranquilizing dart into the raging creature. Not more than three seconds later the large monkey slumped to the floor.

"Jesus," Blake breathed when it was all over. "What the hell happened in there?"

Harris hesitated a moment while he seemed to regain control of himself. As the attendants began the work of herding the rest of the troop into the sleeping quarters behind the main portion of the cage so they could remove the bodies of the two fallen monkeys, he took Blake's arm and drew him toward the door.

"It happens sometimes," he said, his voice quavering. "Something happens to an animal when it's kept in a cage. It might seem perfectly normal for years, but then, all of a sudden, it can just go berserk." He glanced at Blake. "Haven't you ever seen the big cats pacing back and forth in a zoo? Especially in the small cages? Well, I don't think they're just exercising. If you ask me, they've just gone completely psychotic. They'd be better off dead."

They were back in Jerry Harris's office before Blake spoke again. "If you feel that way," he said, "then how can you stand to know that every one of those animals back there is going to die in our labs?"

Harris managed a thin smile. "It's my job," he said, a trace of bitterness apparent in his voice. "And I keep telling myself that the research we do, and the lives we might save, are worth what we're doing to the animals."

Blake thought about it for a moment, then slowly nodded. "And what am I doing out here?" he finally asked. "From what I've seen, you don't need a marketing man at all."

Apparently relieved to have the subject changed, Jerry Harris tossed a file across his desk to Blake. "You're going to be doing a lot," he said. "You're going to know every facet of what's going on out here, and even if you don't understand the technology-which I don't, myself-you're at least going to know what we're trying to do. You've always been good with people, Blake, and whether you agree or not, that's what marketing is all about. Showing people why they need what you have. Out here, of course, you'll be doing a lot of what you might call public relations as well. And you can start with that." Harris nodded toward the file, and Blake picked it up. He opened it curiously, and was surprised to find that it was a medical file.

It was the file on Ricardo Ramirez.

Puzzled, Blake Tanner gazed questioningly at Jerry Harris.

"TarrenTechwill be picking up every one of the medical costs for that boy," Harris told him. "Whatever he needs- surgeons, specialists, physical therapists-the works."

Blake smiled cynically, certain he understood. "On the theory that it can't cost more than a lawsuit," he commented. But to his surprise, Harris shook his head.

"There won't be any lawsuit," he said. "No grounds. It was clearly an accident." He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "We're in a unique situation here, Blake," he said. "Silverdale was a tiny town when we arrived.TarrenTech came in and changed everything. Essentially, we rebuilt the town from scratch, right down to the schools and library. There was some opposition at first, but we asked the people who were here to trust us, and they did. And we've never failed in that trust." He pointed to the file in Blake's hands. "Legally, no one in Silverdale is responsible for what happened to that boy. But that isn't going to help him, is it?"