The conference room at CBI headquarters in Lakewood was already packed for the debriefing when Cash entered and took a seat at the front next to Romanski, Reno, Colcord, and others involved in the Erebus investigation. The CBI’s new director, Blaisdell Holmes, stood at the podium, waiting for the hubbub to quiet down and the debriefing to begin. Holmes had been deputy director of the CBI, and her elevation to the top spot after the demise of McFaul was expected and uncontroversial.
Over the past month, the media had dragged the CBI through hell, but Holmes had handled it well, admitting fault where blame was due, quietly resisting the many unfair and inaccurate accusations, and calmly refuting the mind-boggling proliferation of conspiracy theories that arose, each one more outlandish than the last—as if the incident hadn’t been crazy enough to begin with.
When the digital clock behind the podium registered three p.m., Holmes stepped forward to the podium, tapped on the mic, and said, “I extend a warm welcome to the CBI and the Eagle County Sheriff’s Office.”
The purpose of the debriefing was to update CBI on the progress of the investigation. The crisis at Erebus was over—but the investigation itself continued.
Holmes reminded everyone that the details that would be discussed at the debriefing were confidential, restricted to law enforcement only, and that no recording was allowed. Then she placed a portfolio on the podium to refer to, opened it, and looked around the room.
“We have what we believe is a final tally on the dead and missing,” she said. “Nine of the experimental subjects are deceased. None were able to be taken alive. They were killed fighting with the Air National Guard units sent into the valley. An unknown number of experimental subjects, perhaps as many as two dozen, escaped over the mountains and are still at large in the Flat Tops Wilderness Area.”
Experimental subjects was the phrase officially adopted to refer to the Neanders. It somehow seemed less threatening. The idea that they were resurrected Neanderthals had only been accepted with the greatest reluctance and only after incontrovertible DNA sequencing had been completed. Most of the rest of the de-extinction evidence had been wiped out in the destruction of the labs. The federal government had stepped in and dropped a classification order on most of the information being recovered.
“The numbers of casualties and missing are significant,” Holmes went on. “They include Maitland Barrow, CEO of RxB, the holding company of Erebus, presumed dead; Erebus CEO, Karla Raimundo, presumed dead; security director, Andrew Maximilian, presumed dead. Missing are sixteen Erebus security personnel and fourteen other employees, presumed deceased from the explosion and collapse of the laboratory and mine complex. The chief scientist of Erebus, Marius Karman, is believed to be alive, having joined with the experimental subjects in the Flat Tops Wilderness Area. The deceased include the actor Brock Ballou; four other employees of the film company; and twelve members of the media. Five Air National Guard members died in the assault on the valley, along with six members of the Denver PD SWAT team. My predecessor, Wallace McFaul, lost his life in the incident, as did businessman Rolf Gunnerson, and of course his son, Mark, and daughter-in-law, Olivia, whose deaths initiated this investigation.”
She paused and swept the room with a grave expression. “In short, there was a shocking loss of life, not to mention the many others who were injured and traumatized. I’d like to call for a moment of silence for those victims.”
A hush fell.
Then she resumed. “I would like to acknowledge the important roles in the case played by Agent in Charge Frances Cash, Sheriff James Colcord, Forensic Services detective Bart Romanski, and forensic technician Michael Reno.”
Cash heard this and colored. She wasn’t fooled. She was in the doghouse internally, but what was worse, she blamed herself. She’d retained her job only because the CBI needed something positive to point to after the McFaul disaster, and she was that thing. Colcord hadn’t fared as well; he’d been slammed in the press, and it seemed likely he’d lose the upcoming election in November. The media, having lost so many of their own, had been hammering everyone pretty good. And then there was that filmmaker Doyle, who’d witnessed Brock Ballou’s killing but managed to escape the crazies. He was now making hay on every talk show in America. The governor had taken a big hit when it became known he’d been reluctant to close the resort and had delayed calling in the National Guard. There were no actual heroes in Cash’s mind except for the National Guard and the Denver PD.
Holmes went on, “As we know, Erebus was engaged in the so-called de-extincting of Pleistocene megafauna. They were also engaged in a secret project to manipulate the human genome as part of a commercial program offering prospective parents the ability to create designer babies with enhanced physical characteristics. They did this, apparently, through resurrecting Homo neanderthalensis, an extinct hominin species that occupied Eurasia hundreds of thousands of years ago. Erebus harvested some of their genes to insert into human embryos. The families who opted for this genetic enhancement paid many millions of dollars to receive it—without knowing their babies were getting Neanderthal genes.” She paused. “We are in the process of identifying those families and notifying them of that fact. You can imagine the news is an unwelcome surprise. The children who were born with these genetic enhancements, some of whom are as old as nine years, are being evaluated by medical professionals for any side effects or unexpected presentation of disease or infirmity. It appears there may in fact be issues with regard to a propensity toward violence—but that is beyond our purview. Unfortunately, the identities of many of these families have leaked to the media.”
She shifted another piece of paper.
“The laboratory where this work occurred was completely destroyed in an explosion and landslide. The area is still closed off and under investigation, and it will be for some time. The resort lodge burned to the ground, as did the historic mining town of Erebus, which had been converted into a movie set. The entire valley is closed as a crime scene and is being examined for evidence.”
She paused and took a deep breath.
“With regard to my predecessor—all of you have seen the media reports. It appears he shot and killed Rolf Gunnerson. That is still under investigation. His conduct has cast a shadow over the CBI, and we will need to work hard to regain the trust of the public and media. I call on all of you to undertake this task.
“The investigation is ongoing, and there is still much more to be done. The Flat Tops are being searched. So far, the experimental subjects, led by Karman, have evaded our searches. The area, although large, is finite. We do expect to eventually track them down, especially as winter closes in and they become easier to track.”
She closed her papers and said, “That is all I have to say for now. We will take your questions. I will ask those in the front row, who participated in the case, to come to the stage to be available for any questions that might arise.”
Cash, Colcord, and the rest stood up and filed onstage. Cash looked over the sea of law enforcement and Forensic Services people looking back at her. It was painful for her to think about what might be going through their minds about her role in the debacle.
But the questions were not too challenging, and if people were thinking bad thoughts, they kept them to themselves. An hour later, the room had finally run out of questions, and the meeting was adjourned.
As they filed out, Colcord fell into step beside her, and they walked out together into the parking lot.
“Well, partner,” said Colcord, “that wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
She shook her head. “Yeah.” And then she hesitated. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“Back there, when we were locked in that chamber and thought we were going to die, you wanted to say something to me—some last words. Remember that?”
He nodded. “Sure do.”
“What was it?”
He gave her a slow smile. “Ah! Now you’d like to know?”
She looked at him. “I would.”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come by my coffee shop in Eagle one of these fine days, and we’ll have a cup of joe and talk about it?”
She took in his friendly face, crinkled blue eyes, and cowboy hat. “Deal.”