The Trailer: The door to the trailer slaps open, and Grant storms in. The trailer serves as the dig's office. There are several long wooden tables set up, every inch covered with bone specimens that are neatly laid out, tagged, and labeled. Farther along are ceramic dishes and crocks, soaking other bones in acid and vinegar.
There's old dusty furniture at one end of the trailer, and a refrigerator. A man roots around in the refrigerator, his back to us. grumbling about the contents which are mostly beer. His hand falls across a bottle of expensive champagne in the back.
John Hammond, seventy-ish, eccentric billionaire, is sprightly as hell, with bright, shining eyes that say "Follow me!" He is also Grant and Sattler's main sponsor. Grant stares incredulously at Hammond, holding his champagne bottle without an invitation. John pops open a bottle of champagne. The cork comes flying at Grant and he ducks.
Grant: Hey, we were saving that.
Hammond: For today, I guarantee it.
Grant: Who in God's name do you think you are?
Hammond: John Hammond. And I'm delighted to meet you finally in person, Dr Grant.
They shake hands and Hammond blows dust off his hand. Grant is struck silent, staring dumbly. Hammond looks around the trailer approvingly, at the enormous amount of work the bones represent.
Hammond: I can see that my 50,000 a year has been well spent.
The door slaps open again and Ellie comes in, just as pissed off as Grant was.
Ellie: OK, who's the jerk?
Grant introduces Ellie to Hammond.
Grant: This is our paleobotanist, Dr...
Hammond: Ah hah!
Grant: Ellie, this is Mr. Hammond.
Hammond: Forgive the dramatic entrance, Dr Sattler.
Ellie [apologetic]: Did I say jerk?
Hammond: Come on, sit down, sit down.
Hammond begins to walk into the kitchen, making himself at home. As Hammond moves, they notice he walks with a slight limp and uses a cane - - for balance or style, it's hard to say which. Ellie follows him and tries to help.
Hammond: No, no, no I can manage this. I know my way around the kitchen.
Ellie goes around towards Grant. They look at each other, taken aback by this guy's bravado. Hammond dries the glasses.
Hammond: I'll come right to the point. I like you, both of you. I can tell instantly about people. It's a gift. I own an island, off the coast of Costa Rica. I've leased it from the government and I've spent the last five years setting up a kind of biological preserve. Really spectacular, spared no expense. It'll make the one I've got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo. And there's no doubt, our attractions will drive kids out of their minds.
Grant: What are those?
Ellie: Smaller versions of adults, honey.
Hammond: And not just kids. Everyone. We're going to open in the Fall, that is if the lawyers don't kill me first. I don't care for lawyers, do you?
Grant [together with Ellie]: Oh, we... don't really know, really.
Hammond: Well, I do I'm afraid. This particular pebble in my shoe represents my investors. That they insist on outside opinions.
Ellie: What kind of opinions?
Hammond: Well, you're kind not to put too fine a point on it. I mean, let's face it... in your particular field you're the top minds. And if I could just persuade you, to sign off on the park, give it your endorsement, maybe even pen a wee testimonial, I could get right back on shedule, er... schedule.
Ellie: Why would they care what we think?
Grant: What kind of park is this?
Hammond: It's right up your alley. I tell you what. Why don't you come down, just the pair of you for the weekend? I'd love to have the opinion of a paleobotanist as well. I've got a jet standing by at Choteau.
Grant: I'm sorry Mr. Hammond, but that's impossible. We just dug up a new skeleton...
Hammond: I could compensate you by fully funding your dig...
Grant [wavering]: And this is a very unusual time.
Hammond: ...for a further three years.
Alan and Ellie celebrate with a hug.
San Jose, Costa Rica - Café: Dennis Nedry is in his late thirties, a big guy with a constant smile that could either be laughing with you or at you, you can never tell. He sits at a table in front of a Central American cafe, eating breakfast.
Nedry looks up and sees a man get out of a taxi - - Lewis Dodgson, wearing a large straw hat and looking almost too much like an American tourist. Dodgson clutches an attaché case close to him and scans the cafe furtively. Nedry laughs, shakes his head, and waves to him, calling him out by his name.
Dodgson hurries over to the table and sits.
Dodgson: You shouldn't use my name.
Nedry [loudly]: Dodgson, Dodgson, we've got Dodgson here! Nobody cares.
Nedry: Nice hat. What are you trying to look like, a secret agent?
Dennis grabs Dodgson's hat off his head. Dodgson ignores that, sets his attaché case down next to the table, and slides it towards Nedry, "Seven fifty." Nedry smiles and pulls the attaché closer to him. Dodgson assures Nedry fifty thousand more for every viable embryo, on delivery.
That's one point five million, if Nedry gets all fifteen species off the island. Nedry needs a way to transport the embryos. Dodgson pulls an ordinary can of shaving cream from a shoulder bag he carries and sets it on the table. The bottom screws open; it's cooled and compartmentalized inside. There's enough coolant gas for thirty-six hours.
Nedry presses the top of the can and real shaving cream comes out, necessary to get past security. He grins, impressed. While Dodgson talks, Nedry looks around for somewhere to wipe the shaving cream and ends up dumping it on top of a piece of pie on a dessert tray next to him.
They discuss pick up time, Nedry assures Dodgson he will beat security, and his company catches up on ten years of research. The waiter places the check on the table, Nedry gives Dodgson a look.
Nedry: Don't get cheap on me, Dodgson. That was Hammond's mistake.
Dodgson begrudgingly picks up the check.