She sipped her champagne, and her mood grew somber. “I'm sorry, but I can't help thinking from time to time of Dr. Barker and the monstrous creatures he created. It seems like a nightmare.”

“I wish it were a bad dream. Barker and his pals were very real. So were his Frankenfish.”

“What a strange, terrible man he was. I suppose we'll never know how someone so brilliant could become so evil.”

“All the more amazing when you consider that his ancestor, from all accounts, was a decent human being. The original Frederick Barker saw that the Eskimos were starving and tried to stop his fel- low whaling captains from killing walrus.”

“His genes must have been twisted during their passage from gen- eration to generation,” she said.

“Add a little God syndrome into the genetic stew and you get a mad scientist who fancies himself the personification of an evil spirit.”

“It's ironic, isn't it?” she said, after a moment's thought. “Barker was a product of genes gone wrong. It was precisely the process he used in his laboratory to create monsters from normally docile fish. I shudder every time I think of those poor deformed creatures.” An anxious look came to her eyes. “This is the end of that insane re- search, isn't it?”

Austin nodded. “Barker was a true genius. He wrote nothing down. He kept the notes for his genetic tinkering stored in his head. That knowledge died with him.”

“Still, it wouldn't prevent someone else, equally as brilliant, from duplicating his work.”

“No, but the loopholes in the law will soon be closed. Biofish will not be allowed into the U.S. The Europeans are equally determined that Frankenfish and chips will never be on their menu. Without a market, there's no incentive.”

“What about the others in the Kiolya tribe?”

“Arrested, dead or on the run. Without Barker to whip them into a murderous frenzy, I'd say it's the end of that bunch as a threat. Barker's holdings are up for grabs. The wolves are tearing his giant corporation to pieces. Now let me ask you a question. What's the fu- ture hold for you and SOS?”

“We're parting ways. I've decided that commando raids aren't my style. I've been offered a staff position as environmental counsel with Senator Graham.”

“Glad to hear you'll be around.”

The waiter carried a black telephone over to the table. “Mr. Zavala would like to talk to you,” he said.

Joe's voice came on the line. "Sorry to interrupt dinner. I thought you should know that we're going to start to make the approach soon.

“Thanks for the heads-up. How long do we have?”

“Enough for one very long dance.”

Austin smiled and hung up. “That was Joe calling from the con- trol car. We'll be landing soon.”