by Dan A. Baker
He looked at them both for a minute, realizing they were subdued.
“Soup no good?” he asked.
“Long day in the mines,” Will said, turning slowly. Jasmine was too exhausted to say anything, still thinking about Darla’s imminent death.
“The Father of molecular biology is asleep on the green couch,” Jasmine said. “We’ll explain the whole thing later.”
“Cool,” he said, turning his head to listen to a truck coming down the hill. “Hope my 928 parts are on the truck today,” as the Fed Ex truck turned into the parking lot. Jasmine turned suddenly to Will and reached for his hand.
“Behlen?” the driver asked.
Will looked down at the small Styrofoam box and pointed to the address in Dallas. Jasmine squeezed his arm and turned to him. “I’ll prep her,” Jasmine said softly, turning away and walking up the stairs to the MRI trailer.
Will quickly slipped the small plastic bag with Easton’s blood on it into a shipping envelope and handed it to the driver. “Contents?” the driver asked.
“Famous scientist,” Will said, turned, and walked down the path.
The next few days passed quickly. Jasmine nursed Darla in a cot by the MRI. She was subdued for a few days, but quickly regained her inquisitiveness.
“But what does it look like?” Darla asked Dr. Easton as they lay beside each other, with IVs flowing into both arms.
“Well, it’s kind of a milky substance. Not really impressive.”
“No! I mean, under a microscope! Don’t the genes have color? Aren’t they little shiny balls on a long string or something?” Darla persisted.
“No, you can’t really see them, they’re molecules!” Dr. Easton said.
“But what if you could? Are they blue, green, yellow, or what?”
“You can see the telomere region on the chromosome with a microscope”
“What color is it?” Darla asked.
“Green,” Dr. Easton said, “kind of a yellowish, sickly green.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Darla quipped.
Jasmine laughed softly, finally turning to Will. “I knew they’d get along.”
“More history,” he said. “You can actually see the stem cells flowing into her body. See it in the change in her skin color,” he said.
“I wonder what will kill them,” Marjorie said.
“Probably a defective protein somewhere in the cluster,” Jasmine said.
“Probably a modulation cycle that freezes,” Will said.
“We’ll have the dog data in another four months. Maybe we’ll see it there and have time to fix it, or modulate the cluster,” Jasmine said, as Barney licked her hand. She reached into her pocket and gave him a dog biscuit, which he snapped out of her hand. “Barney!” she said almost laughing.
The dogs were starting to move around now, and were so ravenous they chewed Barney’s old red plastic food dish in half. They went wild when Rammy gave them big bloody soup bones. They not only chewed them, they cracked them loudly, and did not stop chewing until the food dishes filled.
“Here we go,” Will said, looking into the eyes of the smallest female. “Her cataracts are almost gone, she stopped dragging her back leg, and her gums are pink. The first cascade looks like it’s expressing perfectly. We’ll do their first MRI’s tomorrow.”
“The data will be extremely exciting,” Jasmine said.
“I like exciting,” Will said with a silly smile on his face.
Turning into the driveway in a shower of gravel, blaring loud rap music, Koji’s silver Audi TT stopped just a few feet from Jasmine, its bright blue wheel covers still spinning when it stopped. Koji got out smiling, and helped his new girlfriend out.
“Dr. Jasmine Metcalf, Veta Morrison,” Koji said, bowing slightly.
The pretty, young brunette was almost a caricature of a pixyish bright young Bay Area woman, Jasmine thought. She was a little too tall, with a boyish body and a warm smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about your Nobel nomination and your work on birth defects. I just couldn’t believe they would cancel human trials on something that important!” she said in a rush of words.
“They’ll be conducted in the UK, now,” Jasmine said, suddenly realizing she hadn’t spoken to anyone outside the boathouse in awhile.
“I would very much like to spend some time with you and hear your views on your project, especially if they give me the tech beat,” she said.
“The tech beat?” Jasmine asked.
“Yeah, I’m a reporter for the San Mateo Times. I’m on the police beat now, which I hate, but I think they’re going to put me on the tech beat pretty soon,” she said.
“Oh.” Jasmine responded, glancing over to see if the door to the control console was closed.
“What are you doing down here?” Veta asked.
“I’m resting or recovering, I guess you could say. My husband died recently, and it’s very restful here,” Jasmine said.
“You must have suffered terribly in the accident. I am so, so sorry for you,” she said.
“Here’s the data I have from the satellite feed,” Koji said, handing Jasmine a portable hard drive. “Most of it hasn’t been decrypted yet, but I think it’s just corporate rubbish. Anyway, I have a new scanner.”
“Thank you, Koji. I’ll take a look at it next week,” Jasmine said, trying to sound uninterested.
“There must be a cell tower near by here,” Koji said, looking down at his digital scanner.
“A cell tower?” Jasmine said.
“Then there’s a satellite receiving station,” Koji commented again.
“I have no idea,” Jasmine said. “Rammy would know, but he’s not here.”
“It’s sat uplink, I’m sure of it,” Koji said. “It’s transmitting now.” He turned his new scanner display to Jasmine then turned the square horn until it pointed at the big container. “It’s just there,” he said.
“What’s just there?” Jasmine asked.
“The transmitter - it’s just there, on that container. Wait. Now it stopped. That’s funny,” Koji said.
“What’s in the container?” Veta asked Jasmine.
“It’s some of Rammy’s experimental computer equipment. He did some important work in bioinformatics several years ago,” Jasmine said, again biting her tongue. She just could not force herself to be circumspect, and Koji’s scanner was beeping constantly, which distracted her.
“It stopped transmitting now,” Koji said.
“Transmitting?” Jasmine questioned.
“Yes, transmitting and…” Rammy’s sudden appearance at the driveway in his Porsche interrupted Koji. He slid the Carrera to a noisy stop in front of Koji’s silver Audi TT.
“Nice sled!” Rammy said, as Koji walked over to him.
“What a nice Carrera! It must be new!” Koji yelled.
“Yeah, it’s new,” he said. “Let me see your TT.”
Veta walked a short distance away and made a cell call. Rammy and Koji took the TT out for a short drive. Jasmine walked over to the large shipping container and found an old wooden ladder. She climbed up on the roof and looked into the stack of blue plastic milk cartons that were wired together. Inside was a grey metal dish, pointed to the south.
She watched Veta carefully. When she finished her call, she jumped down and put the ladder back next to the hedge.
“Well, I’ve got the tech beat! I now have the tech beat! When can we start?” she asked excitedly.
“I’ll… give you some background information, and maybe we could get together next week sometime?” Jasmine said.
“We couldn’t start now, could we? My editor is very excited, and interested in what you’re doing in Santa Cruz,” she said, pulling a reporter’s notebook out of her black nylon sling purse.
“I really couldn’t, today,” she said quickly. “I’m very tired.”
“But I thought you were resting here,” she asked, cocking her head and turn
ing to face the parking lot, where a police car had just turned in.
Jasmine froze as the young tanned police officer got out of the car. Veta stood back slightly as he approached Jasmine.
“We got a report that there was a traffic accident here,” he said, pointing to the VW van. “Was anyone injured?”
Jasmine was stunned. “I believe a friend of the man who owns this house slid into this steel container when the brakes failed on the VW van,” she said hurriedly, “but no one was injured.” The police officer crossed over to her, looking right at her.
“No one was injured?” he asked.
“No, everyone is fine,” Jasmine lied so badly she winced.
“Who is everyone? Who’s van is that and who was driving it?” he asked.
“I don’t know his name. They left for New York an hour ago,” Jasmine said.
“No one was bleeding here at this address?” he asked again, looking right at her.
“No,” Jasmine said, looking down.
“Well, since this is private property, they don’t have to file an accident report but I would like your name for my report,” he said.
Jasmine quickly gave him her name and he drove off, but first he walked past both containers, looking carefully at the big cables.
“Hope that’s not a meth lab,” he said. “We frown on meth labs in Santa Cruz.”
Veta was right behind her as she turned to walk on the beach.
“What did happen to the van?” she asked.
“I think the gas pedal stuck,” Jasmine said as Koji’s TT tore into the parking lot and did two complete donuts, throwing gravel all over the shipping containers and the MRI trailer. Koji and Rammy were laughing hysterically.
“First time anybody made me sea sick!” Rammy said, passing Jasmine and Veta. Koji turned off his new scanner and put it in the TT.
“I have to go now, Jasmine. Just give the hard drive to Malia and she’ll bring it over to my flat,” Koji said, getting into the TT.
“I’ll call you next week, Dr. Metcalf, and thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me!” Veta said. “And good luck on your Nobel!”
Jasmine went into the big container and found the wire that lead to the dish on top of the steel box. She began to cut it with a bread knife, but stopped. For the first time in her life, she realized the importance of being circumspect.
She sat down at the control console and copied the entire gene assembly set onto ten data DVD’s. Then she wrestled the spare tire out of her Volvo wagon and put them under the spare.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Of course, yes of course!” Easton said, as Jasmine scrolled through the master gene treatment. “My God, you’ve done beautiful, elegant work here! It will work! Of course it will work! With the dog trials and the cross species data, you will know! Know at least some of the things that will blow up in your face, anyway,” he said, ending on a note Jasmine did not expect.
“We should have most of the data in ninety days,” Jasmine said, finally recovering some of her strength. The last few days had been very hectic. Roy was slower to recover than they expected, and nursing Darla was a full time job. Darla actually screamed for more protein smoothies and corned beef hash with poached eggs.
“I have to eat! I feel like a hungry monster! Oh my God!” she said repeatedly, as she worked on painting the MRI tube. “It’s kind of a Star Gate thing,” she said, smearing bright blue paint around the tube with her thumb.
Jasmine had tried a little meditation that morning, just for a few minutes, and it helped her now. It helped prevent a maelstrom of confusion as he walked up to her. The infatuation was still there and a sharp jab of sexual desire jolted through her stomach, but she simply smiled and held him for a few moments.
“We looked at the video,” he said. “They treated five patients in Cuba. They all died around 320 days.”
“And,” Jasmine said softly.
“The data is interesting.”
Jasmine did not respond, which surprised Will. Instead, she sat down and looked at the female Labrador carefully.
“Darla looks good,” Jasmine said.
“This is the easy part. It’s just the first phase.”
“I know,” Jasmine said.
“I suppose you want some answers,” Will said.
“I only want to know what you want to tell me,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“I’ll tell you later, in Lake Havasu.” “When are you leaving?” she asked.
“When are we leaving, you mean?” he said.
“Easton?” she asked.
“He was spotted this morning by a jogger. It just so happens that the jogger is in biotech, in Scott’s valley. When I walked out Easton was speaking to a crowd of about ten people. We have to get them out of here, and now.”
“Now?” Jasmine asked.
“Yeah, we’ll rent a house for them and the dogs. No one will recognize him down there. Everyone’s old and weird in Havasu,” Will said.
“We need to follow Easton, Darla, and Roy very closely. If any of the genes don’t express right, we need to modulate them or silence them within hours. They have to be close to an MRI at all times,” Will said.
“What am I to you?” Jasmine asked.
“An ally,” Will said, without hesitation.
The word resonated for a few minutes, as Jasmine watched Darla showing her sketch to Easton. He looked at it carefully, then slowly turned it upside down, and handed it back to Darla.
“Let’s get going,” Jasmine said, after you show me the video from Cuba.”
The video was very dark and grainy. There were five subjects, all videotaped nude against a white background in frontal, side and rear poses. The age range was from seventy-three to eighty one. Data monitor windows ran in each frame with height, weight, vital signs and a short health bio. They videotaped every week for forty weeks.
The first noticeable difference was stature. The patients began standing up straighter, their skin began to shine, and their bodies seemed to shrink as the muscles began to tighten around the bones. The darkness at the root of their white hair was very striking, and unmistakable. Aging spots began to disappear on the skin, and lines in the face began to fade.
A flushed, almost embarrassed look began to appear about three months post treatment, and the eyes shone with energy and vitality. Sexual activity was noted repeatedly. The patients seemed to stretch all the time, and were ravenous for protein, especially fish and chocolate.
“I can’t believe they tried this,” Jasmine said.
“Watch this,” he said.
At about seven months, the secondary sexual characteristics returned. The breasts of both women appeared to regain their shape and suppleness. Jasmine assumed they were treated with hormones, but she discovered a note that indicated the ovaries were producing hormones at almost normal levels. Facial features changed dramatically. Ears became smaller, noses smaller, and the skull size actually expanded as the bones re-calcified. The patients complained of headaches and were given pain medication, and very large doses of Ibuprofen, the notes said.
“I wonder what they were thinking. They must have been held in some…”
“Military hospital in Maguey,” he said.
Jasmine began to notice signs of weakness and lack of energy on the patients at about 230 days post treatment. There were several cartilage problems, especially in the knees.
“Victor must have had the Cuban government behind this,” Jasmine said.
“You’re right about that,” he said flatly.
There was a gap of about three weeks, followed by the appearance of several skin cancers on the legs of all the patients, swelling in the belly, and the unmistakable signs of leukemia. All five patients died within two weeks of massive cancers. For some reason, only two of the patients were scanned, and this data was missing.
Jasmine looked down at the control panel and saw Koji’s portable hard disk drive. “Was there anything else on the d
isk?” she asked.
“That was all the video,” he said. Jasmine looked at Rammy briefly, who was petting his new seagull. He said nothing.
Jasmine agonized for a long moment. She had carefully considered the possibilities, and concluded that the work on the 9900 was being ported by the satellite dish. Rammy must have installed the dish, and if Rammy knew about it, so did Will. Why didn’t he tell her?
“Will, the 9900, our data, our work, Marjorie’s work…”
Rammy stood up and left quietly.
“I know,” she said finally.
“You know?” he asked tentatively.
Jasmine’s cell phone chimed in her little black fanny pack. She looked at Will searchingly, and pressed the small green button.
“Roy is throwing up blood everywhere,” Jonelle said in a terrified distant voice.
“Oh no,” Jasmine said, as she handed the phone to Will.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“There’s no way out,” Will said, tapping the key to advance Roy’s MRI images.
“I didn’t think we’d see this,” Marjorie said.
“Neither did I,” Jasmine said, standing behind Marjorie, as the brightly colored images opened and closed.
“The regeneration is running out of control. The stem cells are working better and faster than we thought. Roy is literally digesting so much cell debris that it’s killing him, and killing him fast,” Will said. “That surprises me. I didn’t see this in any of my patients.”
“None of your patient’s had the overwhelming cell damage Roy has,” Marjorie said gently.
“There’s a surprise in every box,” Jasmine said, mortified at the MRI data.
“Twelve hours, tops,” Will said, looking at Roy’s blood chemistry. “I can take out the ASCO, but it won’t make any difference.”
The comment stopped the conversation.
“You treat him with the master gene therapy, or he dies,” Will said, finally pushing his rolling chair away from the console.
“We can’t treat him yet!” Jasmine almost screamed. “We haven’t run the key proteins at Berkeley, and we have no data from the dogs!”
