The Jericho Deception: A Novel by Jeffrey Small Page B

right. Ethan’s laptop was open on the desk.
    “We ready?”
    “The Logos is programmed and warming up now.” Chris flipped his head, flinging blond hair from his eyes. “Rachel’s been quite helpful in organizing the apes.” His eyes lingered on her.
    “All hominids are apes, including you.” She jabbed a finger in Chris’s direction. “Ape is too imprecise a term. These are capuchins, monkeys.” Her tone was firm, but from the crinkles around her eyes, Ethan suspected her displeasure was feigned.
    “You work here?” Ethan asked her.
    “Since freshman year. I was an undergrad here too. One of the reasons I came to Yale was CapLab. I took a gap year after high school—well, twoactually—working at an animal preserve in Kenya. I’m the head tech now. I help Professor Sanchez with her research.”
    “Where is Laura?”
    Ethan respected Laura Sanchez, a fellow psychology faculty member who’d just received tenure last year. Her determination and enthusiasm had been the driving force behind establishing CapLab as one of the leading primate research centers in the nation. She’d also been helpful when he and Elijah had approached her about testing the Logos in her lab.
    “Atlanta. Conference at Yerkes. I’ve been instructed to assist you guys with anything you need.” She cast her eyes down the length of his body for a moment so brief that he wasn’t sure that it had happened.
    Did she just check me out? As a young faculty member, he’d experienced female students flirting with him before, but he’d never pursued that dangerous path, even though he’d known others—even much older professors—who had done so. Not my type anyway , he told himself. The memory of Natalie’s tall body, jet-black hair, and olive complexion popped into his head, bringing with it the familiar pang of regret in the depths of his stomach.
    A touch to his arm brought his attention back to the woman standing before him. Her hand rested on his upper arm; it was warm.
    “You’ve had your TB tests, right? We can’t risk an infection that would wipe out our whole population.”
    “We both have,” Chris rose from the chair.
    “Yes, both negative,” Ethan confirmed.
    “So, can we go in now?” Chris gestured to the plate glass window that took up most of the wall to their left.
    With his attention focused on Rachel, Ethan had failed to notice the giant window when he entered, though it was the focal point of the room. Tree branches swayed on the other side, giving the impression that he was looking outdoors—an impossibility since they were in the basement of the building. Closer inspection revealed a chain-link fence and a concrete floor covered in wood shavings that defined a large room on the other side of the window. The tree branches were bare and several ropes connected them to the ceiling and to each other. A dozen small brown monkeys played in various parts of theroom-sized cage. Some groomed each other; others climbed on the branches or swung from the ropes; a few chewed on chunks of fruit before tossing the rinds to the floor.
    “Do you have the paperwork showing the negative results?”
    “Here.” Chris picked up a manila folder from the desk and handed it to her. Ethan once again appreciated how well his graduate assistant handled the myriad regulations their research required.
    “Not trying to be a pain.” She flipped open the folder. “I don’t want the IACUC coming down on my ass because the protocols weren’t followed. Just last month we were cited because one of the monkeys was underweight. They refused to listen to us. We provide them more than enough food. He was just a lower ranking member of the community.” She tossed the folder on the desk. “Bureaucrats. Last year, they actually changed the locks on the office doors because they said it was too messy in here!”
    Ethan chuckled. The IACUC, the Institutional Animal Care Use Committee, was just as difficult as Samuel Houston’s Human Research