Velvet Mafia

by Lydia L Watts

  Teddy replied, “I was watching you to make sure you were not followed. I’m convinced someone is watching me.”

  “Who are they, and why would they be watching you?” Basil said as he looked into the still darkness.

  “Let’s sit, Basil,” Teddy said. “The information I’m about to share with you is very dangerous and there are people involved who will do anything to protect what I think I know from being exposed. They are not only watching me; they are also watching anyone I come in contact with.”

  “What information?” Basil said with excitement. “And was I being followed?”

  “I don’t think so, but it still doesn’t mean we’re not being watched. Once you hear what I have to say, you will understand why we have to be discreet and watch everything we do from this moment going for-ward. Is that clear?”

  “It’s like that,” he replied in obvious disbelief.

  “Yeah, it’s like that, Basil,” Teddy said. “What I have to tell you can get us both killed as well as anybody else involved.”

  As the two sat on the bench, Teddy paused to take in the cool air that seemed to walk across the trees. In that brief moment of silence, she knew that once she opened her mouth, there was no turning back.

  “As you know, Basil, for the last eight years, I have been looking for Isabella’s killers. While doing so, I have discovered some very extraordinary things. First, over the past several years there have been a number of high-ranking officials, as well as scientists, who have been either murdered or who mysteriously died, including the most recent — Clarence Whitherspoon, DC’s mayor.”

  “Okay,” Basil said, still not seeing the connection. “So, what do these murders have to do with me and the work I am doing?”

  “That’s a good question. But I need for you to be patient and let me tell you the whole story. When I’m through, I guarantee you’ll understand.”

  “Go on,” Basil said reluctantly as he sat back on the bench, hands folded and resting on his wide girth.

  “My source tells me that before Whitherspoon was killed, he was concerned with the rate of HIV in the District and was asking a lot of questions within the administration. He couldn’t understand why the nation’s capital had a rate as high, if not higher, than some areas in sub-Saharan Africa. My Intel informs me that according to one of the mayor’s most trusted allies, Whitherspoon believed AIDS was an advanced form of a biological weapon.”

  “Teddy, that’s not a new theory!” Basil said. “People have been suggesting that for some time, so where are you going with this?”

  “Well, Basil,” Teddy said, feeling a little put off, “my source also tells me that Whitherspoon’s inquiry netted him an audience with a high-ranking official in the administration who, weeks later, ended up dead. This official supposedly provided Whitherspoon with the proof he needed to support his belief that HIV was a genetically modified organism developed by several scientists working for the US government. Their objective was to eliminate all social undesirables like brown, Black, poor and gay people.” Teddy paused. “Now, here’s the kicker. I think this weapon was created in order to give birth to a powerful political movement. A movement that brought gays out of the closet and onto the world’s political stage.”

  “Now, I am really confused,” Basil said. “You had me up until that last tidbit of information.”

  Teddy stood up and began to pace as she continued to lay out her theory.

  “Just think about it, Basil. In the beginning, AIDS was considered a white gay disease. Yes, Black and Hispanic gay men were dying too, but it was the white gay community that kept the government and the public on point. People of color were in denial and women —”

  Teddy paused to light and take a puff from one of Basil’s cigarettes. Her expression told him she really believed everything she was saying.

  “Hell, Basil,” Teddy continued, once the inhaled remnants of the smoke left her full, perfectly shaped lips and filtered the air, “women didn’t even factor in as part of the equation because like everybody else, they thought it was a gay disease. While women and people of color were being placed in a position of denial, the gay community was relentless in its strategy to elevate AIDS as a national public health issue. And when it hit the national radar, the gay community and its sympathizers showed everyone watching who they were, what resources they had and what they needed to come out — and stay out — of the closet.

  “Yes, AIDS opened the door and the gay community simply walked out. Frankly, AIDS was a necessary evil. It became, for one community, a useful political and economic tool. And today, the gay community is well positioned, organized and poised to move its agenda forward. What started as a public health issue became the beginning of a new world agenda and the agenda reads like a page out of a best seller called ‘The Emergence of a Super-Minority’.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Teddy!” Basil stood and looked as if he were about to take off running. “Do you hear yourself talking? You sound homophobic, which I find hard to believe since you’re gay! Plus, if what you are saying is true, how could such a thing be pulled off and who would have the power to do it?”

  “Yes, Basil, I am gay, but what does that have to do with it? Plus, if we stay in the social context of what it is I’m saying and take the emotion out, history tells us that while we were being told this was a white gay disease, the government had documented evidence that injection drug users were just as impacted as white gay men and their modes of transmission could impact not only their drug-using partners but also their sexual partners.”

  “Again, Teddy, where are you going with this?”

  “Don’t you see, Basil? Once the gay community claimed ownership of the disease, the government support for injection drug users waned in comparison to that of the gay community? In fact, during the first generation of the disease, the government turned its back on the needs of the dope-using community and instead placed more emphasis on gay men. The way I see it, as a new growth industry, HIV/AIDS became to the health community what the dot-com revolution was to the information transfer industry. Both ended up being an economic bonanza — if you were in a position to control the product and the market.

  “Now,” Teddy continued, “to answer your question regarding how such an initiative could be pulled off. The Intel I have suggests that the first phase was initiated through the Hepatitis B experiments per-formed on gay and bisexual men during the late ’70s and early ’80s, the same time our government and its military-industrial complex were advancing their interest in developing biological weapons.

  “In an effort to gain as much knowledge as possible regarding the effectiveness of bio warfare and population control, the US government dumped a lot of resources in a special program for all land-grant universities called the Future Scientists of America. The FSA program targeted the best and brightest young scientists as part of the US recruitment process.

  “At the time, the United States had various international agreements with Russia, Germany, Britain, France, Canada and Japan. These agreements dealt specifically with population management and to meet their obligation, the US needed to increase the number of scientists working on its research. Those selected were charged at looking at the impact that certain diseases had on different populations.”

  “I remember that program,” Basil said softly, as if what Teddy had been saying finally resonated. “In fact, I knew someone who was selected to participate but something happened and it didn’t work out.”

  “Then you also know that no live subjects were used in the study,” she replied. “Instead, they used these ‘super cells’ from Johns Hopkins University known as HeLa cells. I’m not really sure why, but appar-ently these cells had something supernatural about them. Anyway, once the students had the cells, they were then assigned to research known diseases as well as — now get this, Basil — two students were asked to create diseases with specified functions.”

  “Are you sure the cells used were called HeLa
cells?” Basil said, still trying to put all the pieces together.

  “Yes, HeLa cells. Why?”

  “Well, when I was working on my doctorate, there were rumors that human cells had been cultured in a laboratory. These cells were taken from a young African American woman named Henrietta Lacks, aka HeLa, without her consent. She was a poor tobacco farmer from southern Virginia who moved to Baltimore during World War II. According to the stories, she was being treated at Johns Hopkins in the charity ward for cervical cancer.”

  “So, what was so special about her?” Teddy asked.

  “Well, back then, medical science was making great strides. And more times than not, little oversight was provided regarding the methods used to ensure client consent, especially when poor people were involved. Prior to the HeLa cells, doctors could not get human cells to grow in the laboratory. Countless other cells had died, but for some unknown reason, her cells lived and no one knew why.”

  “So, what happened to her cells?” Teddy said, feeling as if Basil was adding another missing piece to her puzzle.

  “If my memory serves me correctly, a factory was set up to massproduce the cells at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama.”

  “Shut up, Basil,” Teddy replied indignantly. “Are you referring to the same Tuskegee Institute that deliberately deprived Black men infected with syphilis of treatment just so they could document the progression of the disease?”

  “Yep! That’s the same one.”

  “That’s unbelievable, Basil. Then what happened to the cells?”

  “Well, more cells were cultured and the factory mass-produced and distributed about three trillion HeLa cells a week. These cells were sent to labs around the world.”

  “So, if I am hearing you correctly, cells were reproduced all because they lived outside her body and in a laboratory setting?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

  “Well, did anybody know why they lived?” Teddy asked.

  “No. The only theory suggested was that the interaction among the cervical cancer and HPV — together — prevented the cells from dying off. The only thing we do know is Henrietta Lacks may have lived poor and marginalized, but she was born with a greater purpose in mind.”

  “Why do you say that, Basil? She was young, Black, female and poor. And if what you are saying is true, she was a victim of medical abuse, all in the name of science and profiteering. So, please explain to me what her greater purpose was because right now, I don’t see it.”

  It was evident that the Henrietta Lacks story made Teddy even angrier than she had already been.

  “I know how you feel, Teddy,” Basil said. “In the name of science, we have traveled to the edge of destruction in hopes of creating greatness and in the course of our scientific journey, we sometimes do more harm than good. But you should know that Henrietta did have a purpose, and in my opinion, it was divinely inspired. Her cells, because of their ability to live, were used to create the first polio vaccine. Her cells were the first cells used for cloning; her cells were also used to develop cancer medications and drugs for Parkinson’s disease. They were even sent up to space. Now there’s a conspiracy for you,” he said, laughing loudly. “If it’s true that they are developing colonies in space, Black people won’t make it, but it’s comforting to know that Henrietta is already there.”

  Despite the seriousness of the subject matter, Teddy had to laugh too. Basil’s joke was right on time and for a good three minutes, whatever had made her so angry had disappeared in the simple thought that a Black woman was watching over the world from outer space.

  “I’m glad you got jokes,” she said, still enjoying the moment. “But let’s go back to what you were saying. If the HeLa cells could aid in producing vaccines, could these same cells be used to produce substances that compromise the immune system? And isn’t it also possible, if the Tuskegee Institute was capable of manufacturing and distributing three trillion cells per week, that if someone wanted to use the cells diabolically, it could be done without anyone noticing?”

  “Yes. That’s plausible,” Basil replied.

  “Well, if you think that’s plausible, do you think that someone or some entity would commit murder to keep what we just discussed buried?”

  Basil was exhausted. At every question she raised, he found himself chasing his thoughts. The information he was being forced to digest seemed to be digesting him at a rapid pace and he simply needed a break. Everything Teddy said seemed credible — with the exception of the gay agenda piece. That was just too much to consume.

  “Teddy, I am worn out,” he said. “It’s been a long night and if what you said — and you said a lot — has any merit, I need to let it sit for a while and do my own research. Let’s meet again tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Basil.”

  Basil suggested, “How about 6:00 pm at the Harold Washington Library? Is that too late?”

  “No, that’s perfect.”

  “Good,” Basil said. “I’ll send you an email with a specific location by 8:00 AM tomorrow.”

  “Basil, are you all right?” Teddy asked. “You seem so pensive.”

  “I am pensive, Teddy,” he replied. “And for the first time, I might be scared.”

  With that, they went their separate ways, Basil back to the Canterbury Hotel and Teddy back to the South Side — but only after making sure Basil wasn’t being followed.

  “Taylor, where are you?” Yeager yelled. “I don’t pay you what I pay you to have you missing in action when I need you. Where are you?” Yeager shook his head. “Damn it, Taylor!”

  “I’m here, Councilman,” Taylor yelled. “What’s wrong?” She rushed into his office as everyone stared. Yeager was known for his outbursts and if you had the misfortune to be the subject of his anger … well, it hurt. And if he saw that you couldn’t take the verbal lashing, it turned him on. Most people just tried to stay out of his way, but Taylor was different. She could take a punch as well as give one.

  “Where were you when I called you?” Yeager said. “Don’t you know my time is important and if I call you, your ass should be front and center?”

  “I was doing my job,” she said sarcastically as she placed her hands on her voluptuous hips. “Don’t you remember? Today we are interviewing the witnesses testifying at next month’s committee hearing — you know, the special meeting set up by the mayor before he died. We’re scheduled to address the no-bid contracts for HIV/AIDS services the Health Department has issued. Several agencies are concerned and some believe you had a direct role in identifying the agencies that received those contracts.”

  “Who’s making these allegations?” Yeager said. He stood up from his desk, madness in his eyes. “I want to know right now.”

  “Well, Councilman, there are at least six agencies at the table,” Taylor said calmly, unamused by Yeager’s antics. “And — oh, by the way — you should also know that Eli Edelstein is in attendance, watching our procedures. He’s in the chamber now with the witnesses waiting for me to return to the meeting.”

  “Edelstein is in the chamber now?” Yeager said, obviously surprised as he walked to the front of his desk.

  “Yes.” Taylor seemed uninterested in Yeager’s newfound attention. “Interesting!” he whispered, as he gave Taylor a smug look before turning toward the big office window looking out over the city. “Very interesting. Now this is what I want you to do.” His expression was deliberate when he turned to face Taylor. In that moment, she could tell he had concocted something in his mind that made his chest swell.

  “I want you to go back and finish the interviews, but before adjourning the meeting, let Edelstein know I would like to talk to him before he leaves.”

  “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You want me to tell Eli Edelstein, in front of everyone, that you want to meet with him privately? And you expect him to say yes?” Despite how Guy acted at times, Taylor did have his ear. So, to hear that Guy was interested in having a one-on-one with Edelst
ein piqued her interest.

  “Yes,” Yeager replied belligerently. “You heard me correctly. I want you to announce publicly before the end of the meeting that I want to talk to him privately.”

  “You know that once I do,” Taylor said, “someone in that room will tell Jones.”

  “Yes, I know,” he replied. “And that’s exactly what I want to happen.”

  Councilman Jeffries was clearly troubled. The evidence against him seemed to be mounting and the word was that his chief of staff had been operating under his direction, an allegation he vehemently denied. Based on the press so far, this was a story that was not going to die down or simply go away. In fact, it was likely he would be indicted. Guy had gone too far this time and since his rival had started it, Jeffries knew it was up to him to finish it. As he pondered the predicament he found himself in, his phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Councilman Jeffries, this is Taylor DuBois. I was wondering, sir, if this is a good time to talk. I would like to discuss something with you that might be of interest.”

  Just the sound of her voice made Jeffries quiver. This had to be another one of Yeager’s tricks. Why else would his minion be calling?

  “Taylor, what the hell are you talking about? What kind of trick are you and Yeager playing now? I know that it was Yeager and most likely, you too, behind this bribery investigation.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taylor said, sounding shocked at the accusation. “I’m calling because I thought you might want to know that Councilman Yeager is up to something big and it has to do with Blake Jones.”

  “Blake Jones?” What in the world would Guy be doing with Blake Jones? Could this be the opportunity he’d been waiting for? If so, what would it cost? And would it be worth lying in bed with Taylor DuBois?

  “What is it, Taylor? My time is very limited. What is it you want from me?”

  “Unfortunately, sir, I can’t talk right now. But, the next time we speak, I’ll have more information. Information that I believe will help you in some of your more creative endeavors. I’ll call you by the end of the week.”