Taming the Telomeres, a Thriller

by R. N. Shapiro

  Chapter 75

  Cut Run

  David concocts a tall tale about getting Amanda out of her funk by taking her to visit the Smithsonian Museums. After clearing the day trip with Aunt Barb, he picks her up around noon and they head to the Fairfax-GMU metro station.

  "I didn't say much in the farmhouse because I think somebody’s bugging it," David says once they are seated on the subway.

  "You're kidding. Where do you come up with this stuff?"

  "Someone was bugging your hospital room too. I hope you believe me.”

  "Why should I?” Amanda asks.

  David takes some papers out of his backpack.

  “I detected the bug at the hospital with computer equipment that’s pretty foolproof. But I couldn’t tell you about it because right after the accident you were saying anything to anybody. I also thought Kent was doing it, and you’d never believe that. After he died I changed my mind, and now I know for sure it wasn’t him cuz I reviewed the search history on his laptop.”

  “Wait, how did you get the laptop?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Kent was researching stuff about your dad’s job and his cancer patent, stuff like that. I think he stumbled on something, so that’s why we’re heading to the patent office now.”

  “So who bugged my room? And what for?”

  “I dunno, but I do think it’s got something to do with your dad and what he was working on,” David whispers as he sizes up the two commuters behind him and those standing in the aisle.

  “But what does that have to do with me? I don’t know anything about his research, especially now.”

  “Maybe someone’s worried about something you might do, or something you might know. Do you remember anything about your dad's patent, the one he got for the cancer screening stuff?"

  "Nope, but I’ve been having flashbacks about some things."

  “Like what?”

  “I remember something about my dad’s home office and lightning bugs. About four Dorothys like from the Wizard of Oz, except they were all little and one was me. And I remember my little brother Justin. Right, I don’t have a brother, I know, I know. But I see myself reading to him. He even played with my car keys. You and everyone else think it’s all just a dream, but it’s not. It’s all vivid, not like a dream at all.”

  “Played with your car keys? That would mean it was like, in the last year before the crash. I hate to tell you this…”

  “David, listen to me. I think NDEs are real. I don’t think the flashes are dreams, they’re stuff that really happened. Wanna hear something else weird? I remember seeing the doctor drilling into my skull when they were installing my halo.”

  “What? How can that be?"

  "Exactly. I don't think we can explain what happens in NDEs. I know I saw them, like, looking down from above. But how could I know what they were doing or how could I smell them drilling if I was knocked out? I agree with Dr. Lucent. There are just some things we can't explain. Do you think everyone has a soul?”

  "I guess I believe in having a soul, but I've never pondered whether it can really leave my body. Or, if it’ll exist after I die. Maybe some of that stuff means you’re prying memories out of the recesses of your brain or something.”

  “Do you think I’m crazy? Like about Justin?”

  "No. I can’t judge anything with what you’ve been through. Let’s switch topics for a second. Here's a copy of the patent your dad got for cancer diagnosis and tumor control techniques. And from what I understand, based on the date and everything, he got that before he even went to work for BBS. Then, I did some research and I found out that he apparently filed for another patent that had to do with something called 'suppression and manipulation of mTOR activity to inhibit or exhibit cell replication.' I have no idea what it means. But when I went to the U.S. patent database, where I found his first patent, there was no reference to this other patent application at all. We need to find out why."

  After switching trains at Rosslyn to the blue line, they get off in Alexandria at the King Street stop closest to the patent office, a tall, new, sparkling building of reflective steel and glass. Amanda looks up at the office tower as they approach the entrance, wondering if they’re searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

  Chapter 76

  Examiner Frankel

  After showing their drivers’ licenses they get temporary IDs and pass through the metal detector.

  “I didn’t think about having to show our IDs to get in. Hopefully no one will find us.” David says.

  “You can’t seriously think someone followed us here, do you?”

  “Who knows?”

  David stops at the first information desk they see inside the cavernous public search room.

  "We're looking for a patent examiner."

  "Which one?" the information desk assistant asks.

  "Arthur Frankel, it says here he's with Art Unit 124."

  The assistant looks through a list and says "He’s in Building Four, fourth floor, room 433. That's a couple buildings west of here, but you need an appointment.”

  David looks quizzically at the assistant and over at Amanda.

  "Aren't they here every workday? What's it take to get an appointment?"

  "Some patent examiners work from their homes part of the week, some don’t. I can call and see if he’s available." The assistant picks up the phone and dials. After a brief conversation she places the phone back in its cradle.

  "You’re in luck. He’s there and says he can meet you as long as you get over there within the next 15 minutes."

  Once they’re in the right building and on the appropriate floor, another assistant tells them to head down the hall, make a right and they’ll see Room 433. They follow the directions and David taps on the closed door until they hear a voice bark to come in.

  Opening the door, they see huge stacks of paper covering a government-issue metal desk and an older fellow with half a head of gray cropped hair and thick reading glasses down at the tip of his nose.

  "What can I do for you? You caught me just before my lunch break."

  Amanda pipes up. “My dad is Ron Michaels, an inventor. We want to know if he filed any patent applications besides the one we already know about. You were the examiner listed on it."

  “Why don’t you just ask him if he’s your father?” Frankel asks rather brusquely.

  “Uh, well, because he died not long ago.”

  “Well, I see. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Frankel offers, softening slightly.

  "We wanted to find out what happened to another application that we believe he filed after his first patent was granted. We can't find it listed in the regular patent database," David tells him. He pauses to glance at a piece of paper in his hand, then continues.

  "It's titled 'Suppression and Manipulation of mTOR Activity to Inhibit or Exhibit Cell Replication,' and when I did a search I saw it was filed. But it's not in the database. Why is that?" David asks, placing the paper he printed out with the basic application information on Frankel’s desk.

  Frankel glances at the paper and swivels around in his chair that noticeably squeaks as it turns. He taps several keys on his computer.

  "Give me that full inventor name again."

  "Ron Michaels, Reston, Virginia."

  Frankel scrolls through several screens on his monitor.

  "Uh, that application was withdrawn and sealed."

  "What does that mean, withdrawn? Does an inventor withdraw it, or who does that?" David asks.

  "Uh, it says it was withdrawn under 35 United States Code Section 181."

  "I'm sorry, we don't know what or who makes that decision," Amanda says.

  “National security. Applications can be sealed for a number of reasons but this was national security. That means even if I could find the application I couldn’t give you any information.”

  "What’s that code number again?"

  "35 USC 181."

  Dav
id jots down the numbers on the paper on Frankel’s desk.

  "Who can have an invention sealed for national security?" David asks.

  "I’m not sure," Frankel says. "There's something in the law about which officials can do it, I’m just not familiar with it. But once it’s sealed, there’s no further public access. That explains why you couldn't find it in the database. Can I do anything else for you?"

  “So you still decide if it’s a new invention, but the public can’t find out?” David asks.

  “Well, yeah, it still gets reviewed, but even if it’s granted, the public won’t know.”

  Amanda looks at David, crestfallen.

  “Wait, but since my dad died, what if the invention gets developed or used?”

  “I can’t give you any advice on that. You’d have to consult with a patent attorney.”

  "Wow. Thanks for your, uh, assistance." Amanda says, her voice soaked in sarcasm.

  They both walk out of Frankel's office.

  Later they are seated on a bench waiting for the subway.

  "Now what?" Amanda asks David.

  "Well, I think your dad was venturing beyond cancer research. Cell replication also has to do with cell death and cell life. But I don’t get how it would affect national security."

  Once they grab two seats on the train, David opens his laptop. “Here's the law Frankel was talking about."

  * * *

  35 U.S.C. 181--Secrecy of certain inventions, withholding of patent.

  Whenever publication or disclosure by the publication of an application or by the grant of a patent on an invention in which the Government has a property interest might, in the opinion of the head of the interested Government agency, be detrimental to the national security, the Commissioner of Patents upon being so notified shall order that the invention be kept secret and shall withhold the publication of an application or the grant of a patent therefor under the conditions set forth hereinafter.

  * * *

  David speed-reads through several other provisions that follow.

  “It says here that a government official has to renew the request every year.”

  "Wow, that’s pretty spooky. We should talk to my uncle about this, right?”

  Chapter 77

  Foggy Bottom

  After they get back on the blue line, Amanda pulls a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket, unfolds it, and looks at the address: 2151 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, Apartment 3-D, Foggy Bottom stop, blue or orange line. She folds it back up.

  "We’re on the blue line, right? I'd like to stop at Foggy Bottom and see a friend of mine. Okay?"

  David looks over at her like she is ruining his well-laid plans.

  "You know I don't like surprises. Why didn't you mention it before?"

  "I wasn't sure I wanted to do it then. It'll only take us 15 minutes."

  "What is this sudden mystery stop?"

  "She’s a potential tutor. I texted her yesterday saying I might stop by sometime in the afternoon once I knew we were going." Amanda leaves a lot out on purpose.

  "So, she might not even be there? Is that what you’re saying?"

  "She said anytime in the afternoon was good."

  The escalator carries them to street level, and they head north on 22nd Street, up to Pennsylvania Avenue, then turn right.

  They look at the street addresses as they walk. Pennsylvania Avenue is one big study in motion, rushing cars separated by honking yellow taxis, serious-looking people who don’t even take time to look to their right or left. Everyone seems to know exactly where they are going, except for the two of them.

  "Can it be in that building over there?" David says pointing to the modern office building on the opposite side of the street.

  "It's on this side," Amanda says, as they walk past a small Chinese restaurant called Hunan Café. Right next to it is a Thai restaurant called Mehran Restaurant. Amanda sees a partially propped-open door to the left of Mehran Restaurant with “2151” above it.

  "This must be it."

  They walk in and notice the old-style resident mail slots in the entry with the residents’ names organized in rows. Amanda sees “3-D, Brittney Hayes” and says, "This is her." They look for a button, but there is none.

  "I guess we just go up." David says, and they start climbing the dirty stairs, passing a Siamese cat curled up on a ragged welcome mat. “Awww…” Amanda says.

  . Once they reach the third floor, they find 3-D and Amanda knocks. No response. After she knocks a second time, the door opens a crack revealing the security chain and a young woman inside. Amanda recognizes her immediately.

  "Brittney, hi, it's me, Amanda.”

  "Okay, hey, come on in.” The door closes momentarily as she frees the chain, then the door opens wide, revealing a ramshackle, dirty apartment. As soon as they enter David takes in the clothing, food and other random stuff everywhere. The waif identified as Brittney stands between the door and a stained plaid outdated couch. There’s also a guy inside wearing a faded GW hoodie, and he’s shaped like a bean pole.

  "Oh, this is my friend Jimmy. He was just on his way out."

  "Whassup? Just headin’ out." Jimmy slowly strides toward the door with a ratty looking backpack slung over one shoulder.

  "Catch you later, Britt."

  "Have a seat." Brittney says.

  Amanda and David both hesitate because the sofa looks so awful.

  "You never said goodbye. You left so quickly." Brittney says, sitting in a small chair facing the ratty sofa. David sits on a bar stool by the kitchen counter dividing the small cooking area from the living area.

  "I didn't want to stay there any longer than I had to. You did tutor GW students, right?"

  "Oh yeah, physics, math, chemistry, and since I double majored at GW, some English too.”

  "Listen, if you could get to Middleburg, I might want you to tutor me, because I've already missed a lot of school, and I’m not sure I’m going back anytime soon. Could you tutor a high school senior?"

  "Sure. I tutored mostly college freshmen, but some high school seniors too,” Britt says with a tone that is the opposite of reassuring to David.

  "Are you still…uh, using? You look kind of like you haven’t slept lately.”

  Without answering, Brittney ambles over to the messy kitchen. David concludes that Brittney is one of the biggest slobs he has ever encountered. The place looks like it belongs to someone who has decided trashcans are optional.

  "That guy Jimmy. Who is he? He isn’t a dealer or something is he?" Amanda asks.

  "Look, he's a good guy. Occasionally he comes through for me. What about it? It’s really not your business."

  "Well, it may be if you tutor me. You told me you were over meth. It looks to me like you’re not." Brittney looks around, nervously rubbing her left hand across the top of the kitchen counter.

  “Look, I can do it. Just tell me when you want me to start. I promise I’ll get it together, really.” Britt says, tapping her fingers in a pattern on the counter, pinky to index, and then back to pinky again.

  "Look, I'll give you a chance, but only if you clean up. I'll call you again in a few days."

  "How much would you pay me an hour?"

  "I dunno. What do tutors earn?"

  "Like $40.00 an hour. How many hours a day would you need help?”

  "Well, it depends on if I just need to catch up with what I’ve missed already, or if I stay out of school awhile longer."

  “Look, don’t worry. I’ll get clean.”

  David pipes up. "Brittney, why don't you give me Jimmy's phone number. I've got an idea on how to help you. And it’ll work."

  "What? Who are you exactly?"

  "I'm David, I'm one of Amanda's classmates."

  Brittney looks down at her cellphone on the counter. She is thinking about it.

  "I'll put it this way. If you want to tutor Amanda, give me his number. You won’t get the job otherwise." He walks over to her with a pen and piece of paper he
's pulled from his backpack.

  She recites the phone number for David after scrolling to it on her phone.

  "Amanda, we need to get out of here."

  "Brittney, I'll get back to you soon. My uncle thinks he may be able to settle my airplane crash case. Get your act together girl, I mean it."

  “Wait a second. You’re that girl! Hey, you never told me you were her, uh, halo survivor girl…”

  “You were high on paxil and who knows what else. And I wasn’t looking to make new friends in the psych ward.”

  “You’ve really been through some heavy stuff,” Britt says, still moving and fidgeting along the kitchen countertop with her fingers.

  “I’ll get back to you soon, Einstein.”

  “What?” Britt asks.

  “You don’t remember telling me you were smarter than Einstein?”

  “No, when did I say that? Really? You must be kidding.”

  “Forget about it. We’ve gotta go. I’ll call you.”

  They hear the door lock behind them as they walk back into the dingy hall that smells of mildew mixed with musk.

  Once they are briskly walking down Pennsylvania Avenue David unloads.

  “You’ve got to be out of your mind! She was in the psych ward with you? You hardly know her. You probably don’t even know if she attended GW or was really a tutor.”

  "Sometimes I just go with my gut. It’ll work out, I know it will. What are you going to do with her dealer's phone number?"

  The subway doors open at the station and they get in after letting the passengers exit. As soon as they are seated near the doors, David breaks out his laptop, and begins searching. Amanda relaxes, tilting her head back against the vibrating wall of the car, taking in the chatter of several folks talking with each other or on their cell phones. She daydreams about her trip to Paris with Kent. The picture he took of her with the sprinkles from the candied apple.