The anti-aging advocacy organizations, physicians, and scientists were driven by one simple premise: aging might not be inevitable. The profound new mindset created an opportunity for new possibilities. For the first time, pioneers viewed aging differently, as a collection of degenerative medical conditions. Osteoarthritis, cancer, heart disease, type II diabetes, and Alzheimer’s were once thought to be part of the natural aging process. Today each was known and a treatable disease process.
The anti-aging field was more than ready to introduce a game changer. Jack Bellow was the best at reading the signs. He understood scientific progress: stem cell study, genetic engineering, regenerative medicine, nanotechnology, and therapeutic cloning. He read a third of the 3,000 peer-reviewed articles on anti-aging presented in the National Library of Medicine. Jack saw a new future in the making. Anti-aging medicine was the new specialty struggling to survive, unsupported and unrecognized by the American Medical Association, American Board of Medical Specialties, and just about all established peer groups. That meant real opportunity!
He was a successful independent businessman who believed in free market enterprise. All companies had the same objectives: find customers and keep them. It was the best model on Earth for the accurate determination of relevance and value. When it came to trailblazing, Jack Bellow had little interest in the views of the AMA, ABMS or the FDA, the self-appointed gatekeepers and protectors of standards of care. The successful innovators must be strong enough to take the beating as they dragged these gatekeepers kicking and screaming into the future . . .
Aubrey de Gray—the forward-thinking Cambridge geneticist—said, “At the moment, we’re stuck with this awful fatalism that we’re going to get old and sick and die painful deaths. There are 100,000 people dying each day from age-related diseases. We can stop this carnage. It’s simply a matter of deciding that’s what we should be doing . . .”
The Anti-Aging Medicine specialty became a mega-trend. It got so far ahead the status quo got stuck in a perpetual denial mode. The new consumer base already created a $96 billion global industry without permission from the gatekeepers. Jack Bellow knew Aubrey de Gray was right. The anti-aging field was fertile, ready for a game changer. It was why Jack had made the trip to Vegas. He was ready for the ultimate challenge of his career. After climbing many high-tech corporate mountains, he was looking for his Pikes Peak of breakthroughs. Jack Bellow’s due diligence suggested Dr. Enrique Medino might be the one to give it to him.
The elderly, large-bellied Latino American gentlemen walked down Las Vegas Boulevard toward the Venetian Resort Hotel and Casino. He stopped several times along the way. It was hotter than he had expected for a late afternoon, and he was weaker than expected.
Wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt, white Bermuda shorts, sandals with socks, Panama hat, and carrying his orange backpack, he looked like any other retired tourist out for a stroll in Sin City. But Enrique Medino was much more than a wandering tourist. Today he was working. The trip was about him and his loving wife of forty-five years, and his discovery, a quantum leap for mankind. It would change everything. It was their turn to be millionaires.
The last round of chemotherapy had been rough. He had lost the rest of his hair, including eyebrows and eyelashes, and was too dizzy to read. He could live with the night sweats, burning diarrhea, and vomiting on the hour, but not the inability to look through a microscope or look at his lab notes. To his surprise, a few days before he was to book his flights, the dizziness went away. Enrique saw it as a sign.
Now none of it mattered. He was in Vegas focused on his discovery. It was too big for most to comprehend. But for those who could, Enrique knew some would try to take it. That was why he needed help. A meeting with Jack Bellow—the savvy entrepreneur—was his best plan.
Enrique had methodically gathered the skills to serve his genius mind in a lifelong quest to unlock the deepest secrets of the double helix—DNA. Through high school and college, he immersed himself in cellular biology and organic chemistry. He graduated medical school and opened an obstetrics/gynecology clinic in Pecos, Texas before going to Dallas to pursue a master’s degree in molecular biology and Tennessee for a doctorate in genetics at Vanderbilt.
Since their inceptions, Enrique had been involved with the American Academy of Anti-Aging Medicine, American Society of Longevity Medicine, and the Academy of Successful Aging and, the Board of Anti-Aging and Regenerative Medicine. He served on their committees, participated in their studies, shared research, and supported educational programs. Enrique did everything asked of him, but over the years he was overused and under-recognized. The enormous loss for the anti-aging medical field was their colossal failure to recognize the biogenetic genius among them. Enrique’s introverted personality in the egotistical world was enough to keep him a secret.
He never withheld his knowledge. His peers either failed to ask the right questions that would reveal his genius or they did not listen. Enrique was so far ahead he was unable to put his research into words. He had invented his own scientific language to deal with the new world of genetic breakthroughs in 1995. Enrique reconfigured the tools of interpretation to make his journey possible.
Serving over twenty years as Director of Molecular Biology and Genetic Research at Vanderbilt University Medical School, Dr. Medino met the terms of his contract. All university research projects were completed on schedule and under budget. National awards were bestowed, and budding geneticists flourished under his tutelage. Each chancellor who served over Medino’s twenty-year tenure was honored to have the demure doctor on staff. Each put forth a great effort to accommodate his timid and withdrawn nature by providing the low-profile work environment outside the spotlights.
At the time it had seemed harmless. There were no other changes to the agreement proposed. The extra provision stipulated all research facilities of the school would be available to Dr. Medino for his personal and private use after normal hours. The privilege would be provided without obligation of sharing intellectual property rights associated with his private research. The university would only be given recognition as a site where Medino’s research was conducted. The contract provision was agreed to by the university twenty years ago. It would prove to be a costly accommodation.
Enrique never wanted an audience, encouragement, or recognition. His world was a mystery to most. Few people would grasp basic genetics, and molecular biology was a foreign language. In the early days, his research at Vanderbilt interested his friends and family. They understood enough to know he was working on the genome project, but interest soon waned—long test cycles, small successes, and continuous failures. People failed to see the value of each piece to his puzzle. Enrique lost the rest of his audience—students, faculty and peers—when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The irony of a terminal patient searching for the genetic secrets of life dampened the allure. Medino did not have the personality, the inclination, or the time to explain. The genetic genius was on a mission only he could comprehend.
On the steps to the Venetian, he started to think the walk was a bad idea. The desert air should be good for him, but he felt like a sock was stuck in his throat. As he climbed the unending steps sweat poured from every pore. But he had a point to make. Arriving for his meeting with Jack Bellow in his present state was pivotal. Enrique could not help but think how ironic it would be to croak in front of a casino with the knowledge he carried.
By the time he got to the lobby he was officially late. After mopping his face and arms and catching his breath, he made his way to the TAO Lounge. Enrique stepped in the door. All heads turned to see the walking dead man. Only the tall man by the windows had a smile—Jack Bellow.
Enrique walked slowly, careful to navigate the tables and eyes and whispers. Unbelievable, the likeness is amazing except for length and color of the hair, he thought. But it was “Gilgamesh” thirty years ago. Jack was a child back then. He would remember nothing and Enrique would leave it that way for now.
Show me you can do this. Show me you are ready.
Twenty
“I just don't think immortality is possible.”
Sherwin Nuland – Professor of Surgery, Yale
* * *
“I am working on immortality.”
M. Rose – Professor of Evolutionary Biology, UCI
* * *
The gorgeous waitress stood behind Enrique in all her splendor. After Jack and Enrique shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, she tapped his shoulder and he stepped aside. They immediately appreciated her Venetian apparel that left little to the imagination. Following the drink order and flirtatious banter, they enjoyed her magnificent exit. Enrique looked back at Jack and winked. Jack nodded in agreement. The ice was broken.
Jack Bellow had presence. He projected confidence and adventure. Enrique Medino was a very sick man. He looked as if he could die at any moment. The TAO Lounge was ideal for the private discussion in wide-open spaces. They were isolated in one of several intimate conversational niches, each furnished with a teakwood coffee table, a short, red satin sofa with gold piping, and two black and gold striped armchairs. A glass tube protruding from the ceiling from twenty feet above delivered soft light that added to the overall sense of privacy.
Jack stood long enough to allow Enrique first choice of comfort. Enrique struggled to get out of his backpack; one complete rotation and he was free. He plopped it onto the coffee table and sat on the edge of the sofa with his knees spread like a kid sitting on a bucket at a fishing hole.
Jack took the armchair and picked up the remains of a drink he was nursing. Enrique fumbled through papers, pamphlets, and spiral notebooks he had squirreled away in his backpack. Jack watched patiently. They smiled politely. For the brief moment, they gathered first impressions that would prove important later.
“I hope it was not too difficult for you to get here, Dr. Medino,” Jack said. He knew he’d have to work to hide how stunned he was by Medino’s deteriorating health—a walking skeleton. The cancer had taken him over, the battle in year two of a three-year prognosis; pancreatic cancer was one of the worst.
Enrique perched on the edge of the sofa pulling papers from his backpack as if each was a wonderful surprise. His shiny white head was sparsely populated with long strands of unruly black and gray hair he was determined to preserve.
His head was halfway inside the backpack when he spoke. “Please, let’s go by first names.” He popped out with a smile and a crumpled piece of paper. “All this doctor stuff and etiquette really means very little to me. I have wasted too much time on the wrong things in life—titles, recognitions, being polite to people I don’t like, wearing a tie—you know what I mean.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Jack said with a sincere smile. They shared a short laugh as the drinks arrived; scotch for Jack, a fruit drink, strawberry, and little umbrella for Enrique. They clicked glasses, and with polite appreciation watched their Venetian beauty depart once again—a show she undoubtedly enjoyed often.
Enrique began. “Jack, please allow me to start with an obvious update. Since we last spoke on the phone, my wealthy oncologist advised I have one year left to crawl around the planet, assuming I have some success with the treatment regimen for my kind of cancer.”
“Enrique, I’m really sorry to hear that.” He goes right to the tough stuff and tells the truth, no sugar coating, Jack thought.
“Yes, so am I.” Enrique stirred his drink with the ridiculous, tiny straw as he watched Jack’s reaction to the news. “I hope your investigation of me was as enjoyable as mine was of you. I am impressed with your success as a biotech entrepreneur.”
“It was, and I try.”
“You are very successful at the ripe age of thirty-six. I have lab coats older than you, young man.”
“I’ve been fortunate, good genes I suppose,” Jack said with a slight smile.
“As a geneticist and physician, I agree. Good genes, possibly a more accurate observation than you realize at the moment.” Enrique sipped his drink through the silly straw, his nose in the glass.
He pulled another wad of crumpled papers from his backpack and unballed them with a confident smile. “Your resume is quite impressive. Thank you for sending it to me.” He flipped to the last page of the stapled mess. Jack got a kick out of the coffee stains on his expensive stationery.
Lab geeks are all alike. You gotta love these special people. Then Jack noticed scribbled notes on the back page. It was a molecular structure with labeling at the intersections. There were recognizable chemical bonds and a three-dimensional octagon surrounding a double helix spiral. The reddish-brown stain obliterating the label had to be old ketchup or new pizza.
“I see here you did undergraduate work at Yale, got your MBA at Harvard School of Business, and then went for your PhD at Stanford—focus was operations, information systems and technology. Was that last one helpful in running your companies?”
“I probably could have stopped with the MBA, but the opportunity presented itself when I was bringing up a company on the west coast. At the time, I was encountering operational challenges in certain emerging markets: Brazil, Russia, India and China. The time was right to gather a few more weapons for future battles. I suppose the short answer to your question is yes and maybe no.” They both smiled.
“Your ventures have taken you into several biotech arenas: orthopedics, cardiovascular, neurological, plastic surgery, transfusion medicine and oncology. I like the versatility.” Enrique’s eyes were sharp even though his body was weak.
Jack was uncomfortable talking about himself. He preferred to focus on less personal things, like business opportunity. However, he was sensitive to the importance of letting others get comfortable their way. At the moment he was interviewing for a technology opportunity probably more than Enrique was interviewing for a business partner.
“Thank you, Enrique. I’ve been moving fast most of my life, always able to learn quickly. The sciences grabbed me at ten and I stayed with it for the next twenty-six years. Along the way, the business bug bit me. I merged interests. I see biology as a perfect science and technology as an imperfect effort to navigate the world. Biotechnology seemed the place I needed to be to make a difference.”
“I see success with four of your companies over the last fifteen years.”
“Those successes were possible because of good people and good ideas.” Jack waved to their waitress bending over a nearby table. Jack smiled with the appropriate appreciation and held up two fingers. She returned a playful kiss with a mischievous smile and swung her hips toward the bar with a suggestive thrust. Jack winked, nicely done. He looked back at Enrique who was staring at him with a benevolent smile.
“Are you involved with your companies today?”
“I’ve sold two and consult as a contract courtesy. It’s unlikely they will seek my guidance since I am now a potential competitor. I gave my third company to the management team and serve on the board; a good group of people. My fourth company went public against my wishes, a hostile takeover by investors. After the IPO I exercised my options and exited.”
“Number four sounds a little messy.”
“Let’s say I learned some new tricks from some greedy investors, people who—in their minds—will never have enough money or control.”
“I see.” Enrique stared awkwardly and fidgeted with papers in his backpack.
Jack saw distress in his eyes, a look he had seen before, the brilliant scientist outside of his laboratory. And Enrique was a sick man with a big secret. Jack was as curious as a kid on Christmas morning.
“Would it be helpful for me to expand?” Jack asked.
“Would you? I know my way around the laboratory but the corporate world is a mystery.” Enrique leaned forward.
“And your world will forever be a mystery to me. But those two realities are important because that is why it all works.”
“It is?” Enrique leaned even closer.
“E
verything begins with a breakthrough. Without people like you, people like me have nothing to do. And your breakthrough has no value until it successfully moves from concept to practice. Without people like me, your baby could die, be stolen, or be lost forever. We need each other. It is the perfect storm.”
Enrique pushed his backpack to the side so nothing was between him and Jack. “In the laboratory I search for solutions to problems. I begin with a hypothesis and test it in a controlled environment. When I step out of my lab, I see nothing but chaos. I see uncontrolled variables everywhere.”
“In business, we learn how to operate with most things out of our control,” Jack said.
“And this is what makes me most nervous.”
“I understand. But it is how the world functions. We engage human resources—variables. We have production processes that are variables, too. Regulatory hurdles are always moving and markets and distribution around the world change constantly.”
“My feelings are correct, yes?”
“Not completely. If we have game-changing technology, we not only have the variables, but we also face the greatest obstacles of all.”
“That is going the wrong way, Jack.”
“Game-changing technology threatens to make obsolete the most entrenched interests in the world, the established profit streams. Battle lines are drawn. Market leaders will do anything to hold positions.”
“This is a problem.” Enrique slouched back on the sofa.
“There are sharks in my world. They are big and they are always circling the entrepreneur’s boat. The killer sharks are the corporations with business risk, and there are the private interests of investors and governments around the world.”
“Sometimes my lab seems to be the safest place to be. I have heard these stories. How would you get my idea to market in this difficult world?”
The Bluff City Butcher Page 11
