Rage over the incident had made him a bitter and vindictive man. Still, GenSys had recognized his bush-based organizational skills, his knowledge of animal behavior, and his heavy-handed but effectual way of dealing with the indigenous African personality. They thought he was the perfect individual to run their multimillion-dollar African operation.

“There’s another wrinkle with the bonobo operation,” Bertram said.

“Is this new concern in addition to the weird worry of yours that the apes have divided into two groups?” Siegfried asked superciliously.

“Recognizing a change in social organization is a damn legitimate concern!” Bertram said, his color rising.

“So you said,” Siegfried remarked. “But I’ve been thinking about it, and I can’t imagine it matters. What do we care if they hang out in one group or ten? All we want them to do is stay put and stay healthy.”

“I disagree,” Bertram said. “Splitting up suggests they are not getting along. That would not be typical bonobo behavior, and it could spell trouble down the road.”

“I’ll let you, the professional, worry about it,” Siegfried said. He leaned back in his chair, and it squeaked. “I personally don’t care what those apes do as long as nothing threatens this windfall money and stock options. The project is turning into a gold mine.”

“The new problem has to do with Kevin Marshall,” Bertram said.

“Now what in God’s name could that skinny simpleton do to get you to worry?” Siegfried asked. “With your paranoia, it’s a good thing you don’t have to do my job.”

“The nerd has worked himself up because he’s seen smoke coming from the island,” Bertram said. “He’s come to me twice. Once last week and then again this morning.”

“What’s the big deal about smoke?” Siegfried asked. “Why does he care? He sounds worse than you.”

“He thinks the bonobos might be using fire,” Bertram said. “He hasn’t said so explicitly, but I’m sure that’s what is on his mind.”

“What do you mean ‘using fire’?” Siegfried asked. He leaned forward. “You mean like making a campfire for warmth or cooking?” Siegfried laughed without disturbing his omnipresent sneer. “I don’t know about you urban Americans. Out here in the bush you’re scared of your own shadow.”

“I know it’s preposterous,” Bertram said. “Of course no one else has seen it, or if they have, it’s probably from a lightning storm. The problem is, he wants to go out there.”

“No one goes near the island!” Siegfried growled. “Only during a harvest, and it’s only the harvest team! That’s a directive from the home office. There are no exceptions save for Kimba, the pygmy, delivering the supplementary food.”

“I told him the same thing,” Bertram said. “And I don’t think he’ll do anything on his own. Still, I thought I should tell you about it just the same.”

“It’s good that you did,” Siegfried said irritably. “The little prick. He’s a goddamned thorn in my side.”

“There is one other thing,” Bertram said. “He told Raymond Lyons about the smoke.”