“That, Maggie…that point has not changed one bit. You and the Hope Center are more deserving than anyone I know, and that is the truth.”
A brilliant flash followed by an echoing boom exploded over the city as if to emphasize the point. The massive pyrotechnics display marked the beginning of the year of the horse.
* * *
The fireworks exceeded Wright’s expectations. Remnants of the light show flashed in his vision when he returned to his room in the main house and turned on the control panel next to his bed. A large-screen TV rose from the dresser, and a full-color image appeared. It was not of any late-night show, but something better—Maggie was undressing for her shower. He was pleased when Nick and Maggie had only hugged, parted, and then went straight to their respective rooms.
He trusted that the oxytocin, continuously sprayed in her room, would work. Scented with the same men’s musk cologne that he wore, it caused her brain to bond to him without her being aware of the attraction. A student of history, he loved the fact that musk was originally harvested from a small musk deer native to the mountains of the Himalayas. The gland sac contained a liquid that attracted mates. His tincture was much more sophisticated and potent.
His marketing executives at Zelutex called the company’s oxytocin spray Confide. One member affectionately called it the ‘cuddling cure’ because oxytocin is naturally released in the human brain by touching and hugging. It’s secreted in high amounts during sex, speeding up the attachment to one’s partner—stimulating the brain to remember and bond with the smell, voice, and eye color.
Oxytocin took longer than the feel-good hormone, dopamine, to be released, but it achieved a deeper, safer, and longer lasting effect. Zelutex’s research showed that their artificial oxytocin in Confide created the same relaxation and arousal in both men and women.
He could create the same level of trust and closeness in Maggie without touching her. He looked over at his nightstand at two pictures he held dear—the same picture that his Grandmama cherished of his mother, and a picture he had enlarged from Maggie’s application. The two women looked like they could be sisters—two Indian princesses.
CHAPTER 15
THE HUNTSMAN RETURNS
Robert’s seniority and financial security allowed him to work as the butler at the Zelutex Research Center only when Master Paul was present. He had taken the weekend to catch up on his duties as chief of their longhouse and drank a bit too much tuak, socializing with the other elders. Now he woke from a terrifying dream drenched in sweat. His heart pounded violently, and he struggled to catch his breath. Was it real? His body did not know the difference, and his mind tried convincing it that the terror was simply a nightmare. He gripped the sides of his hammock and wiped his brow. A dream. It was only a dream.
He tilted his head so his ear could capture any sound in the longhouse beyond the drumming of his heart. It was silent. Even the insects and the toads were silent. He lifted his head from the hammock and looked toward his wife’s bed. She slept, and in the pitch black, he could hear the deep breathing of her slumber. He smiled to himself—how he loved that woman. Sixty-three years of marriage and they had never spent a night apart. He was sixteen and she was fifteen when they married.
When Master Paul bought the piece of land from him, Robert’s first purchase was a soft mattress for his love. He still preferred the hammock except for those scarce nights of intimacy. They were getting rarer now that he was almost eighty.
He glanced around the rest of the room and could see and hear nothing. Their seven children were all long gone and lived on their own.
He rested his head back on his pillow not sure he wanted to think about the dream, but it had unsettled his spirit. It reminded him of the old days when all of life’s actions and decisions spun around divination, augury, and omens. Before he was a Christian, he would have called this sort of dream a warning—an ominous, petrifying forewarning. But he knew now that Jesus in him was greater than the evils lurking in the shadows and around the dark corners of his mind. The missionaries of long ago had taught him that. He no longer had to fear every cloud formation, or a bird sitting on a post, or a deer licking at a tree. He remembered all the chanting, all the sacrifices, all the rituals, and the offerings that took up most of their days to appease their gods or ward off the evil spirits ready to devour them at any moment.
But still, he could not help but worry. He believed, like his ancestors before him, that there were good spirits ready to help him and evil ones eager to harm him. The missionaries had different names for them—the Holy Spirit and the demons. Even the missionaries told him that God still speaks to his people in dreams. Is your Spirit talking to me, Father?
As a Christian, he believed, like his ancient people, that he had a soul that would live on after death. His eternal life would differ little from his existence in the flesh, except he would be with God, the Father—the one his ancestors called the supreme God, Bunsu Petara.
Robert reached up and wiped his face, trying to rub out the image of the creature he saw. In his dream, he was still the chief of a great longhouse, the tuai rumah, and he lay in his hammock. The nightmare started with a faint sound like the rustle of the wind at their apartment door. He stood to investigate. He opened the door to one of the longhouse dogs wagging its tail. As he let the dog in, the dream morphed like only dreams can, and the dog mutated into a hideous beast—a lizard with the head of a dragon and putrid breath of rotting flesh. It dragged its deformed body into the apartment. The beast was covered in large scales that were sloughing off, exposing decaying tissue. His hind legs were useless, and they trailed behind like balls and chains. It had the tongue of a snake that flickered in and out, searching out its next victim. The creature’s tongue wrapped around his leg and Robert lunged toward a large machete hung by the door. The dream ended there, and he woke up in sweat, not knowing if he had slain the beast or not.
The more Robert thought about the image, the harder his heart throbbed in his chest, giving him chest pain. He called out the name of Jesus, and he felt his body relax.
He thought of a story he had not pondered for years. His grandfather terrified him with the story of the evil Huntsman. Grandfather went on and on about Telichu and his younger brother Telichai. The brothers were mighty hunters, spending many days in the jungle away from the comfort of the longhouse. Telichu turned to evil, and his physical appearance changed until he transformed into a hideous demon—an antu gerasi, a demon that hunts the unfortunate souls of their people who disobey the warning revealed to them in dreams and omens.
The people banished Telichu from the longhouse, but before he left, the brothers divided up their hunting dogs. Those that went with the older brother into the demons’ world turned into pasun—hideous lizards. Many Iban, even to this day, conclude that if they hear this pasun lizard nearby, the Huntsman is not far away. Robert tried not to believe. By ancient tradition, he should burn the bark of the lukai tree, but now that he was a Christian, he knew to pray. There was an evil approaching, and he didn’t know what.
He was praying and almost back to sleep when the still of the night broke.
“AAAAAGH!” A woman’s cry thundered through Robert’s slumber. The shout turned into screams. As the cries grew louder and more desperate, the mongrel dogs howled, and the longhouse sprang to life in the darkness. Robert leaped from his hammock. He sprang for the entry, grabbing a flashlight and machete and flung open the door. He was not the first into the shared hallway of the longhouse, and flashlight beams bounced around the space as the screams grew louder and a crowd formed. Robert raced down the common area to the sounds of the anguish.
As he bound through the door to the last apartment, he pushed his way past the people. A woman held a man in her arms. It was his granddaughter holding her husband. Blood was everywhere, and the man’s head decapitated.
CHAPTER 16
PHARMA
The helicopter rides were almost tolerable for Nick, especia
lly when he realized what a fantastic tool it was for the rich and powerful to move from one spot to another. It was a beautiful day to fly from Singapore to Sarawak on the island of Borneo and besides, Wright was a competent and careful pilot. The only time Nick’s anxiety returned during the flight was when Wright swooped down to show them a superpod of dolphins cruising through the South China Sea. Nick had given up the copilot’s seat to Maggie so she could enjoy the view next to Wright. She seemed to be enjoying herself.
Wright had explained again that Borneo was shared by three countries, Malaysia, Brunei and Indonesia, making for a strange geopolitical region. They landed in the Malaysian portion of Sarawak after flying over the third largest city, Kuching. The total population of Borneo was slightly over twenty million people, Wright had explained. As the helicopter flew east, it rapidly left civilization, flying over a vast and ancient rainforest until it came to a huge lake. Landing at the research facility felt like dropping down into the Jurassic Park complex.
The Zelutex Research Center was everything Wright had described. They met Dr. Amy in the magnificent three-story atrium that overlooked the Batang Ai Lake with the sun illuminating the space.
“So, what do you think?” Wright asked.
“Amazing,” Nick said. “Especially for being in the middle of the jungle. Is the only way to get here by helicopter?”
“Well, it’s the fastest, but there is a road from Kuching,” Wright said.
“If your back can stand the bumpy five-hour ride,” Dr. Amy added.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’ve taken the trip too many times,” Wright said and laughed. “You should get your pilot’s license, Dr. Amy.”
Nick wasn’t sure if Wright was strictly teasing the doctor, but it was something he had always thought about doing. He wondered if it would temper his fear of flying if he were in control. Maybe with this break from medicine, it was a good time to fulfill that dream. He wasn’t so sure he would pass the physical with his eye condition.
“What do you do here?” Maggie asked, looking at a massive sculpture in the middle of the atrium of two hands holding a brain.
Wright held out his hand to Dr. Amy to explain.
“Developing a new medication takes years,” Amy said. “It obviously begins with the initial idea and then the test-tube work.”
“That is done mostly at our facility in Singapore,” Wright added.
“Once we establish the compound and develop it in the lab,” Amy said, “we start with preclinical research such as animal testing to answer basic safety questions. That is done initially on mice, and then on orangutans.”
“Orangutans’ genetic makeup is similar to humans’,” Wright said. “We share 97 percent of the same DNA. So they make splendid test subjects, plus the fact they are fun to be around.”
“Once we determine that the drug is safe, we begin clinical trials,” Amy said.
“They are given to humans?” Maggie asked.
“Yes. We start with minimal doses, increasing them gradually. The patients are monitored carefully for any adverse effects.”
“Isn’t that scary?” Maggie asked.
“Not really. We are confident in the results of the animal testing,” Wright said.
Maggie laughed. “I meant for the patients.”
“Yes, of course.” Wright seemed slightly embarrassed. “The patients are well compensated, so they are very cooperative.”
“Do you do the clinical trials here in Sarawak?” Nick asked.
“Yes, here and in South Africa,” Wright said. “The regulatory laws are much more lax, and it keeps our costs down. To do the advanced clinical trials that we do for each drug would cost around fifty million US dollars. We can do it in Borneo or South Africa for half that. You have to understand that a new drug like Welltrex costs 250 million dollars…a quarter of a billion dollars to develop,” he said.
Nick whistled through his teeth. “Wow, I had no idea.”
“Yes, you and most of the medical community. However, most pharmaceutical companies report that it costs over two billion dollars to launch a new drug, so that estimate is a bit overinflated.”
“A bit?” Nick asked.
“Well, they roll in all their costs for doing business. New buildings, payroll, marketing and such. Still, 250 million dollars is a lot of money.”
“So, if it cost fifty million for the research, what about the rest?” Maggie asked.
“That’s the sad part. A good third of that, around a hundred million, goes to all the regulatory work…getting approvals in all the different countries…and the lawyers.”
“Don’t you simply have to get approval from the FDA?” Nick asked.
“For the States, yes. But every country has its own regulatory body, and they all want their cut. And did I mention the lawyers? They’re like sharks circling fresh bait.” This caused everyone to laugh. “Once we get regulatory clearance from the governing bodies, we launch the product.”
“When it goes to the general public, we start an intensive monitoring program for any side effects. It’s called post-marketing surveillance,” Dr. Amy said.
“We have to be careful during this phase because the regulatory bodies would love to find a problem with the drug. We might be forced to expand studies or design further research and then reapply all over again so they can require you to pay more money…did I mention lawyers?” Wright added.
“So how does your company make any money after all that?” Maggie asked.
Wright nodded and looked like he was trying to decide how to comment, then looked Maggie in the eye and confided, “We do okay. Welltrex is expected to be a two-billion-dollar drug.”
“But if you spent a quarter of a billion to develop it and two billion to run the company, how does that work?” Maggie asked.
Wright smiled at her. “Two billion in profits…a year,” he added. “And we got a nice bump in the stock market this morning after the launch. Zelutex is up 10 percent.”
Maggie mouthed a wow and nodded in understanding.
“Gross profits,” Nick said under his breath. “The grosser, the better.”
* * *
The section with the mice looked like any advanced university laboratory in the States, boring and a bit smelly. They passed through the area without stopping.
Soon Nick and the rest of the group stood in an area that was nothing like he could have imagined. He had seen orangutans in a zoo, but this experience was like being transported to another time and space—the planet of the apes. The group gathered on an observation deck overlooking a jungle full of the large orangish-red, shaggy-haired beasts.
There were no concrete floors, tire swings or ropes. No fake ponds or food boxes. Just massive trees and plants—a thick jungle habitat full of orangutans looking as much at home as if the group had stumbled across them on a jungle trek.
“I would ask that you whisper out here. They know we’re here, but we try the best we can to not disturb them,” Wright whispered.
Within the large troop mothers fed their babies and juveniles raced and chased, making a racket. Two of the orangutans faced off and fought over a tree limb. The squabble only lasted a minute when the larger of the two snatched it away and headed for the top of the trees while the other complained loudly.
“Must be siblings,” Maggie said.
“As a matter of fact, you’re right. Only one year apart. We have five main families of orangutans,” Wright said. “Maggie, do you know what you call a group of orangutans?”
Maggie shook her head.
“A congress.”
“Really?” she whispered.
“Yeah, take a trip to Capitol Hill in Washington,” Nick said, “And you’ll see the resemblance.” He covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“I think our congress is smarter,” Wright added.
The biggest orangutan, with an enormous flat face, sat at the bottom of a giant tree eating a banana, oblivious to all the activity until a fe
male nonchalantly strolled by. She stopped before passing completely and thrust her heinie in the air at the great ape. The male reached out to grab her buttocks, but the female slapped his hand away, bellowed loudly and ran off into the trees.
Nick covered his mouth again with his hand to keep from laughing. When the urge subsided, he whispered, “You’re right; we’re not much different.”
“That’s our oldest male, we named him King Louie after the Jungle Book character,” Wright said. “We’re very proud of what we have accomplished here. We have around two hundred apes on over a hundred acres of wild habitat. Our breeding program is the most successful in the world, and we have been able to release hundreds more into the wild.”
“That’s wonderful,” Maggie said.
“We think of them as our co-researchers. Besides helping us, we are protecting these great friends of the jungle and ensuring their survival. Borneo and Sumatra, an island to our west, are the only remaining places in the world where the orangutans have survived. They were almost hunted to extinction.”
Wright pulled his phone from his front pocket and looked at it. “Please, you all must be starving. Let’s go have some lunch, and we can finish our discussion.”
* * *
Before sitting down for lunch, Dr. Amy gave Maggie and Nick a quick tour of the clinical area. Decked out as completely as some of the world’s most advanced health centers, it had amazing capabilities—the latest generation CT scanner, MRI imaging and even a Positron Emission Tomography unit. Dr. Amy explained to Maggie that the PET scanner used radioactive tracers able to map the brain in highly detailed images.
They finished their tour and Wright invited them to sit at a table in the third-floor conference room overlooking the lake on one side and the rainforest on the other. Situated like a sentry tower, the room sat on top of the complex, overlooking the jungle canopy teaming with aviary life. The view was magnificent, and the table they sat around appeared to be carved out of one of the trees of the ancient wilderness.
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