“So here's what we've got overlaid on that. My brother, my sister-in-law and my niece are in this crash. My niece survives, my brother and sister-in-law die. The kid that befriended my niece turns up dead weeks later, under very suspicious circumstances. So again, here is my question for you. Do you think someone could want to kill Ron because of his work?"
"You expect me to have an answer?”
"Yeah. What’s the answer?"
"First, I have no idea if a lot of what you just said is true—I mean besides what we definitely know. I didn’t know anything about this kid’s death—Amanda’s friend. But I don’t think this stuff has anything to do with Ron’s work.” Alex says.
“I am not asking you to be sure. But is there a reason to wonder? You wouldn’t be violating any security clearance to tell me that much….”
"Let me just speak in hypothetical terms. Biological breakthroughs are important to the U.S. economy. We don't want our competitors to own bio-genetic technology that we could have developed because we want the income. Did you know that if the U.S. government funds part of the research it earns some of the patent licensing fees?”
"No, I never knew that." Andy says. “Are you saying the U.S. sponsors your company’s research?”
"No, but the U.S. puts up grant money for various projects, which is the same thing. You know I’d tell you if I knew something that would help."
Actually, Andy isn’t sure about that at all, after attending a couple legal seminars discussing the micro-expressions of testifying witnesses. Micro-expressions can be telltale signs of lying or deception, and some of Alex’s expressions belie his words.
“Alex, tell me the truth about your trip to Easter Island.”
“This conversation is heading down trouble lane. I told you I can’t breach security or I’ll be toast." Alex pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and slaps it down on the table.
"I have to go. You’re not listening. It’s bad enough trying to deal with your brother's death. It's worse having you try to pry information out of me that I legally can’t disclose. I think you are trying to connect dots that simply don’t connect."
Alex gets up from the table and starts walking out of the bar. Andy gets up and follows him. Neither of them pays any attention to the young couple in the booth beside them who have been keenly interested in their conversation.
"Wait. One more question. Do you think the government or someone else could kill someone over what my brother was working on?"
They’re both standing at the foot of the stairway heading up from the lower level bar to the ground level. Alex turns and looks at Andy.
"Andy, I've told you everything I can. Do you understand how much corporate espionage there is over medical and biological technology? Better ways to ensure that the blood donated is safe for operational use and transfusions. Better ways to analyze or screen transplant tissue. This stuff is big business. Do you have any idea how much money companies make on patented medical technology? Millions, maybe billions. So are the stakes big? Yes."
"So is that an answer or a background statement?"
"I don’t know. Whatever you think it is."
"Do you think someone could get killed over Ron’s research?" Andy asks one last time.
Alex starts walking up the steps. Andy tags along behind him and pokes him at the top of his shoulder blade. Alex turns around, completely pissed off.
"Leave it alone,” his friend barks.
Alex wheels back around and continues up the steps. Andy stares up from the bottom of the stairwell for several seconds before walking back to the booth. He slumps back into the seat to nurse the few remaining sips from his beer mug.
Andy returns from a quick lunch the following day, still obsessing over everything he and Alex discussed. Sitting down at his desk he scans through his emails of the last hour or so. He sees an odd one with a return address that he doesn’t recognize and a subject that says "Read this now." Andy immediately figures it’s spam, but something keeps him from deleting it. He decides to click into the email. There is no greeting.
They know we met. Can't meet anymore.
Andy looks, but there's no name on the email. The only person who could possibly be the sender is Alex Erickson.
"Andy, it's Mrs. Allsop calling about the status of her case, can you talk to her?" Angie asks over the speakerphone. Andy knows he should take the call. But he wants to look a few things up on the Internet.
"Please cover for me and send me an e-mail with the details. I'm in the middle of some serious research."
Andy walks to the kitchen to make a cup of green tea while mentally outlining a quick research plan. Surfing on the Georgetown website he finds the Department of Biochemistry and Molecular and Cellular Biology. The webpage trumpets collaborative studies between the National Institutes of Health, the U.S. Department of Defense and other government research institutions. Hmmm.
Then Andy punches in the name of the company Ron worked for, "Biological Blood Services," and finds their website. It’s fairly limited, but mentions that the company collaborates with major private companies and U.S. government institutions on biological research, biochemistry and cellular biology. The website indicates the company is a leader in the screening of blood, micro-fluidics, and the handling of human tissue. It's weird. In all the time Ron worked at this company, Andy realizes he never really had any idea what the hell he did there. And not once did Andy ever visit him at work.
Last, he considers Easter Island, a place he knows nothing about. Wasn't that where they tested some nuclear bombs underwater and the mushroom cloud could be seen hundreds of miles away in the 1950s? He types "Easter Island" in the browser and learns it is a Polynesian island in the middle of the southeastern Pacific Ocean. It’s 2400 miles west of Chile, is only 69 square miles, and has only 2500 permanent residents who are considered the most remote population on the planet. The first recorded European contact with the island was in 1722 when a Dutch navigator visited for a week.
What would blood biologists be looking for there? There is discussion of the Polynesian rat, which apparently played an important role in the disappearance of the indigenous Rapanui palm tree. A number of other trees have also become extinct. A massive seabird population, perhaps the world's richest. Amazing petroglyphs, caves, unique stone platforms.
Then, eureka. Andy finds it:
* * *
"The immunosuppressant drug sirolimus was first discovered in the bacterium Streptomyces hygroscopicus in a soil sample from Easter Island. The drug derived from this bacterium is also known as rapamycin, named after Rapa Nui, the native name of the island.”
* * *
As Andy follows the footnote for more information, he notices goose bumps on his neck.
* * *
"A peptide that was first isolated in 1975 from the bacteria strain Streptomyces hygroscopicus was found on Easter Island. Rapamycin has been found to have a number of interesting properties, including a novel mechanism of immunosuppression. May help prevent rejection of organ transplants, may be effective in the treatment of cancer…."
* * *
Andy continues to follow footnotes and finds a number of journal articles, all reporting within the last several years on studies of the properties of rapamycin. He quickly copies and pastes abstract summaries and citations to the journal articles into an e-mail he sends to Angie.
He presses his speakerphone button. "Are you there?"
"Yeah, where else would I be?" Angie replies sarcastically.
"I just sent you a bunch of cites for medical journal articles. Can you go down to the Georgetown medical school library and get the complete articles copied for me please?"
"When do you need them, and what case am I billing it to?"
"This afternoon or tomorrow morning at the latest. As for the case, uh, no case yet, just general legal research."
Andy contemplates driving over to Alex and Natalie's house that evening, then decides it would be a bad move. H
e contemplates just what the right move may be.
Chapter 67
Demi-vierge
It’s the third time David has banged on the door at the farmhouse. He hears music from inside. He finally cracks open the unlocked door.
“Hello? Amanda! Amanda!”
He realizes the music is coming from the bedroom so he raps on the bedroom door. Still no answer. He goes in and the pungent smell of incense invades his nose. A couple of candles are burning and barely any natural light filters in. He can see Amanda is focused on the record player and still hasn’t turned around to acknowledge him. Her overly long guy’s button-down shirt doubles as pajamas. He walks close to her and she flinches a moment, somewhat startled.
“Hey, what’re you doing here?”
“Actually I wanna talk to you about some stuff…”
“I’m really getting into these vinyl albums that Kent collected. Some of them have some really wild notes inside. Now it’s just a tiny CD case that you can hardly fit any words inside. Did you know that these old turntables will auto-replay one side of a vinyl record too?”
Amanda flops down on the bed and turns back over the book she was reading. David leans across from the other side of the unkempt bed and looks at the book’s spine: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
“What’s the book about?”
“It’s about this crazy journalist who goes on this gonzo vacation with another guy to Las Vegas. Hunter S. Thompson wrote it. Ever heard of him?”
“No.”
“He was crazy. Big on drugs. Ended up living in Aspen, Colorado. Eventually committed suicide. I think he was scared of getting old…”
“Amanda, can I change the subject a second? I don’t think Kent committed suicide.”
Amanda starts laughing. David is confused.
“What’s so funny?”
“This part in the book. It’s just insane.”
“I just told you that I don’t think Kent killed himself.”
“Well, duh… thank you Captain Obvious.”
Amanda never takes her head out of the book. Led Zeppelin is blaring. David likes the music blaring. Anyone listening won’t hear his conversation. He lays down on the bed, angular to her, but their heads aren’t far apart.
“Now, I was thinking also about how you’re the only survivor of the plane crash…”
Amanda never looks up. David’s head rests on top of his closed hands under his chin.
“What if the reason you survived that plane crash wasn’t just good luck? Do you remember when you had that problem with your back when you were about 12 years old?”
“You know I can’t remember. What problem?”
“You had to stop playing soccer because you had incredible back pain. Your parents sent you to an orthopedic doctor who said you wouldn’t play soccer for at least a year.”
The music continues to vibrate the room.
“But you were playing again in three months. What if there was a reason that you recovered so fast?”
Amanda never responds.
David touches her shoulder.
“What?” she says.
“I just asked you something.”
“What…what did you ask?”
“Don’t you see? I’m wondering if there’s a reason you got better so fast.”
“And I’m the one who supposedly has brain damage. What are you talking about?”
“About your dad. What if…like…what did he do where he worked?”
“I don’t know. He was a biologist, you know that. They analyzed blood, did what biologists do…”
“What if his work had something to do with why you survived?”
“You’ve lost your mind.” Amanda dog-ears a page of the book and closes it up. The record has stopped playing on the turntable. She walks over to it and lifts the record off of the turntable and places it back in its protective sleeve. She puts on another album.
“Do you know ‘Wild Horses’? The original Rolling Stones version?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it.”
Amanda begins to sing along, “I saw her today at the reception…Glass of wine in her hand…”
“I wanna find out what your dad did in biology. Will you help me?”
Amanda again doesn’t reply and seems content back inside the Fear and Loathing book.
“Hey, are you listening?”
She gets up and changes the record back to the Led Zeppelin album. The up-tempo song “Black Dog” pulsates through the room and David’s body.
David again gets near her ear.
“Someone had Kent killed. I’ve done some homework. I also think this house is bugged, so I’m glad the music is blasting.”
Amanda looks over at David, confused. “That’s outrageous. Kent didn’t kill himself, for sure. But for you to be right, there has to be bad guys. Really serious bad guys.”
“If you saw something like this on TV, you would be saying, whoa, those things can’t all be an accident, there’s some connection. It’s all too coincidental.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Prove me wrong. Get your doctor’s records. You’re 18, so you can.”
The song “Stairway to Heaven” has begun playing. Amanda climbs up off the bed and begins slowly dancing to the song with one arm stretched toward the ceiling and her other arm out in front of her. She begins turning slowly, swaying her hips. While her trancelike dance continues, she sings along, “And she’s buying the stairway…to heaven.”
“David come dance with me,” she demands.
David has come to expect this kind of erratic behavior from her, and he gets off the bed and stands a few feet in front of her. She reaches her right hand out and takes his and they begin dancing together. She leads, he follows.
“Have you done it yet?” she suddenly asks him.
“What kind of question is that?” he says, amazed that she could move from the stuff he just told her to this.
“Do you know if I’ve done it? You’re good friends with Jonathan, did he tell you? Come on, ‘fess up.” Amanda prods, maintaining her rhythm and moving closer. Her breasts just graze David, and he tries to get the hang of dancing with her in this odd setting. He feels relieved he didn’t have to tell her he’s never gotten laid, although he has gotten to third base with a couple girls.
“He never told me. I swear.”
“You were always around us; do you think we did it?”
“I can say something happened. I just don’t know exactly what. Why do you want to know?”
“Charlyne told me Amber has been making moves on him.”
“I know she’s been after him, that’s old news. Jonathan misses you. He’s told me so. Why won’t you see him?”
“I don’t mean to be nasty, but it’s not going to happen. Break the news to him however you want,” Amanda says without hesitation.
“I’m not going to tell him anything.” David says.
“Alright. Doesn’t matter. The funny thing is I don’t really care about Amber and Jonathan because I don’t remember feeling anything for him. It’s weird, there can’t be envy without recall. Maybe that’s the first good thing to come from losing my memory.”
Their dance continues.
“I think I’m technically a virgin anyway,” she practically shouts over the music that has grown louder.
“Technically?”
“Being a virgin means doing it your first time. I can’t remember whether I did it before or not so, yeah, I say I’m technically a virgin. I’m like a demi-vierge. Like halfway a virgin.”
“Huh?”
“I looked up stuff on virginity online and learned that a demi-vierge is sexually promiscuous, she does everything except…”
“She won’t go all the way?”
Suddenly, Amanda lifts her blouse up and over her head and tosses it on the bed, leaving just a sheer bra on.
“David, undo my bra please,” she shouts over her shoulder, backing up toward him, still swaying to the
music.
David is stunned and not sure what to do.
“What?” he manages to say. He has always worshipped Amanda, but something like this just can’t be happening.
“Do it, David. Undo it.”
So he does, and then Amanda shakes the bra forward and tosses it with one hand onto the bed.
“Do you think I’m attractive?” She asks, dancing toward him with both hands up until she is close enough to graze him with her nipples, which are erect. David’s eyes fix on them as they sway along with her body.
“Well?” she demands.
“Hell yeah, of course.”
Amanda wraps her arms around David and presses her naked breasts against him. She moves her body languidly left and right, accentuating the contact, in a sensual slow dance. She feels he is excited also. Sliding her left thigh between his legs, she feels him against her down there. Emboldened, she rakes her right hand down his chest and then plunges it past his navel and inside the front of his loose jeans. She finds his manhood.
“What?” He asks after the rapid-fire maneuver.
“I want to please you,” she whispers just by his ear.
David’s heart is beating like a drum. He enjoys her caressing and fights to maintain his composure.
The long Led Zeppelin song finally ends. She removes her hand from his jeans and gives him a big hug, awkwardly holding it a couple seconds longer than natural. David enjoys her closeness and her feminine scent, but before he can even decide how to react, Amanda has flopped back down on the bed with the Hunter S. Thompson book, still topless.
His arousal fades away as he considers her virtually nonexistent reaction to his big disclosure to her. Didn’t he just spill to her his thesis of Kent being killed, and the whole deal about her dad’s work and her survival? Did she hear any of that?
“Do you remember the stuff I told you?” he asks, not wanting to make mention of specifics since the music is not playing.
Taming the Telomeres, a Thriller Page 22
