Miller nodded. “I presume you are going to tell us how many our mystery plant has?”
“Eighteen, sir,” was Lawton’s reply. “But the number is not all that important. What is important is the behavior of those chromosomes. My intention is not to turn this call into a biology lesson, but I thought it worthwhile to refresh everyone’s memory on a few subjects. Chromosomes are organized structures of existing DNA and proteins. They essentially package portions of DNA and control its various functions.”
“The reason for my primer is that we found something interesting regarding the chromosomal behavior of Commander Clay’s plant. As a matter of fact, ‘interesting’ wouldn’t be the right word. What we found is rather staggering, and it has to do with a very specific part of the chromosome.”
“And what part is that?”
Lawton glanced at the screen with a hint of apprehension. “Telomeres, sir.”
Langford watched Clay and Borger look at each other. “What’s a telomere?” he asked.
“Telomeres are nucleotide sequences that reside at the end of each of our cell’s chromosomes. They act as a sort of ‘cap’ to prevent problems when DNA is replicated. For example, during cell division, when chromosomes are replicated, it’s the telomere caps that protect against accidental mutation or fusion with each other. Every chromosome has them, and the telomeres grow slightly shorter with each new replication.”
Lawson continued. “About fifteen years before their discovery, a man named Hayflick discovered that there was a finite limit to these cellular divisions, after which the cells would simply stop replicating and die. It’s called the ‘Hayflick Limit.’ Telomeres were discovered to literally be the switch behind the Hayflick Limit. Telomeres grow shorter and shorter with each replication until they reach a critical point. That point or limit is the switch, which disables the ability for cells and chromosomes to replicate any further. It’s the point that we humans refer to as ‘old age.’ ”
“Over the last few decades, researchers have been trying to find ways to turn that switch off. To allow the cells to continue replicating. As it currently stands, all cell types, except for one, have these limits which force them to die and subsequently brings on the terminal decline of old age.”
The room became quiet while everyone digested Lawton’s explanation. Kathryn Lokke was the first to lean forward and speak. “You said there was one type of cell that didn’t have these limits?”
“That’s right,” Lawton nodded. “But it’s not that the cell doesn’t have a limit. It’s that its switch has been turned off. In other words, their telomeres don’t grow shorter as they are supposed to. This allows the cells to continue dividing indefinitely to a point of immortalization.” She paused and took a short breath. “I’m talking about cancer cells.”
Everyone looked at Lawton with a startled expression as she continued.
“Cancer cells have DNA that has been damaged through a process of mutation, a process that we still don’t understand. But it allows the cells to live for an extremely long time. In fact, there is one infamous line of cancer cells that never die.”
“You’re talking about the HeLa cells,” Borger said.
“That’s right,” Lawton nodded. “The HeLa cells are named after a woman named Henrietta Lacks. She died of cancer but not before her doctor took a biopsy from her cancerous tumor. It turned out to be one of the most surprising discoveries in the field of cytology. The cells from her tumor simply won’t die. In virtually any environment, they continued to replicate indefinitely. They are still alive today and are the most widely distributed cell culture in history. There was an interesting book written on the subject not too long ago.”
“Okay,” Miller said, peering into his camera. “So what does this have to do with Clay’s plant?”
“Well, not surprisingly, the behavior in cancer cells has captured the imaginations of many researchers around the world. If telomeres can somehow be intentionally deactivated to allow cell replication to continue, perhaps they can achieve what cancer cells have already managed to do: perpetual cell replication, but this time in healthy cells.”
Miller frowned, thoughtfully. “You mean, as in stopping diseases?”
“No, sir,” Lawton replied simply. “I mean as in stopping the aging process itself.”
Everyone on-screen and in the room stared at Lawton, frozen. Everyone except Borger.
Neely Lawton waited for questions but receiving none, continued again. “For some time, scientists have been trying to find a way to turn off the automatic shortening of telomeres when they replicate. Or, perhaps as in the process of telomerase, to re-lengthen them. Researchers are getting closer, but ultimately telomerase is an interventionist approach. The holy grail would be something much more holistic.” She turned and looked at Clay. “Enter Commander Clay’s plant.”
Lawton reached out to her laptop. “The plant sample Mr. Clay delivered may provide the answer. On the screen is a picture of the plant we received.” She typed a command on the keyboard and a second picture appeared on the screen. “And this is the same plant now. Less than forty-eight hours later.”
“Oh, my god,” mumbled Langford.
Lokke was equally stunned. “That’s the same plant?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lawton replied. Forcing herself to stay calm, she clicked a button and enhanced both images. “As you can see, the second picture of the plant is noticeably larger than the first.”
“Unbelievable.”
Lawton couldn’t help but grin. “This plant is the first one I’ve ever seen with the same telomere disabling properties that cancer cells have. But unlike cancer cells, it doesn’t kill the host.”
“And that’s why it’s growing?” asked Lokke.
“Actually, no.” The excitement in Lawton’s voice was now obvious. “There is something even more exciting about this plant. Not only are the telomeres disabled but, somewhere in the gene sequence, the replication schedule is wildly accelerated. This means that not only does it not have a Hayflick Limit…its genetic code is programmed to replicate much faster than that of a normal plant cell. You can see this in the picture. Not only is the torn leaf regenerating itself, but it’s actually in the process of re-growing a new stem and root system!”
This time even Borger was surprised. “Whoa!”
“I take it this never happens either,” Miller asked, rhetorically.
“Actually it does, sir. Just not this fast. Many known plant types can propagate into a new plant. But not this fast and they don’t regenerate their missing parts. In fact, if I had to guess, I would estimate that Commander Clay’s plant here will regrow itself entirely in a couple weeks, maybe less.”
Langford stared at the pictures on his screen for a long time. “So that’s what the Chinese have found.”
“And why they’ve been so secretive,” added Miller.
Lawton nodded. “You can all see now why I deemed this call urgent.”
“Commander Lawton,” Clay spoke up. “What would you say are the scientific ramifications of this?”
She took a deep breath and shook her head, considering the question. “Generally speaking, I’d say pretty darn big. As far as I know, the characteristics of this plant are something no one else has seen anywhere else on the planet. I mean just the speed at which its cells are replicating make cancer cells look slow. Theoretically, if this process can be harnessed or replicated, or even somehow distilled, I cannot even begin to imagine its possibilities. Reversing disease is one thing, but the ability to completely arrest the aging process at the cellular level is…well,” she shrugged, “into the realm of fantasy.”
“Jesus,” Langford muttered, leaning forward into his hand.
Kathryn Lokke cleared her throat. “Ms. Lawton, I know you said you haven’t had time yet to fully examine or test this sample. Is there any chance at all that we’re wrong here? I mean the picture obviously speaks for itself, but is there any chance that we’ve misdiagnosed what
’s causing this?”
“Yes, there could be other factors,” Lawton nodded. “But given the tests we’ve already run, I would be very surprised to find another explanation. What is far more important, however, is the possibility of whether these chromosomal attributes can be crossbred with other plants. Which I bet is exactly what the Chinese are thinking. If so, that is one enormous game changer!”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is we could be talking about something that virtually any country on earth would be willing to go to war to obtain. An entire agricultural system comprised of plants that never die. Imagine what that would be worth. But what’s really frightening is the question of whether these DNA attributes can be transferred beyond just plants.”
“Is that even possible?!”
Lawton stared at the screen. “I’m not sure if it is or isn’t, but considering what we’ve already accomplished with genetic engineering, it may very well be in the realm of possibility.”
On the screen, Lokke took a deep breath before turning her attention back to Langford. “Well, Admiral, I guess the only question now is what we do about it?”
Langford thought it over. “Secretary Miller and I need to make some calls. This is going to require a full cabinet briefing, and quickly. Mr. Borger, have you been able to pinpoint a location yet?”
“I believe so. It’s hard to see through the thick canopy, but I believe the source is approximately one hundred and twenty miles into the Guyana rainforest. Due south and about fifteen hundred feet in elevation. At least that’s where their trucks stop.”
Langford nodded. “Okay, I want you and Clay to continue gathering whatever intelligence you can on the location. Doctor Lokke, please continue to gather and prepare your team but remain on standby for now.” He leaned forward with a grave expression. “And Captain Krogstad, do NOT under any circumstances, allow that corvette out of dock!”
44
The damp morning chill hung in the air as Alves’ goon, Blanco, escorted DeeAnn up the grassy slope toward the helicopter. His grip around her upper arm was like a vice and felt as though it was beginning to cut off her circulation.
Still, she tried to remain calm for Dulce’s sake. DeeAnn’s hand was wrapped tenderly around the small gorilla’s, which was squeezing her hand firmly. She could sense the nervousness in Dulce’s hold.
Alves was standing near the giant helicopter, an AgustaWestland AW101. It was one of the most expensive private helicopters on the market. One look inside would explain why. It looked more like the interior of a private jet than a helicopter.
DeeAnn paid no attention to the aircraft. Instead, she glared angrily at Alves, who appeared to have changed dramatically from the man she first met. He no longer made an effort to hide his real accent, nor was there even the slightest hint of compassion in his eyes. His face now looked dark and stone-like. The transformation was truly sickening.
They reached the short set of metal stairs and were pushed forward by Blanco without pause, sending both DeeAnn and Dulce stumbling up and into the cabin. Behind them, they heard a screaming Dexter approaching. He was being toted up the hill in a cage, by one of Blanco’s henchmen.
Inside, DeeAnn hated having to put Dulce back into a cage, but she had no choice. It was for her own good, and frankly Alves and his men were no longer here to help. They were simply giving orders.
DeeAnn closed the metal door behind Dulce until it clicked shut. She then turned and sat down in the next seat, looking at Blanco and noting the large gun in his holster. DeeAnn turned away and peered out the window, back towards the large building. There was no sign of Juan. Why would there be? She didn’t expect to see him, yet it made her feel even sicker to her stomach.
As it turned out, Alves’ men did record some of the communication between Dulce and Dexter. And they knew exactly what Dexter had revealed. There was no hiding it now. That, along with Alves’ devastating admission the evening before, exposed just how little freedom she and Juan ever really had.
From the very beginning, they were there for a purpose. Any appearance of a collaborative effort was strictly intended to get them on the plane and away from Puerto Rico. Alves was after Dexter all along, for very different reasons. And DeeAnn and Dulce were little more than Alves’ bait.
Now the game had become deadly. Juan was being held until DeeAnn and Dulce fulfilled their orders. Of that, Alves was imminently clear. And he promised them that if they refused, Juan would be dead within minutes.
DeeAnn closed her eyes and tried desperately to keep it together. Dulce was on the verge of an anxiety attack, Juan was being held at gunpoint, and yet DeeAnn somehow had to get Dexter to lead them to some place that no one but the monkey had ever been before: his home in the jungle.
Dexter’s cage was lifted inside and slid in next to Dulce. The small capuchin quickly scrambled back to the far corner of his cage and fearfully wrapped his tail over his mouth.
After several more minutes, Blanco and two of his men, including the handler of Dexter’s cage, climbed in and sat in seats at the front. They watched DeeAnn and the two primates with an expression of dark ambivalence.
Alves had a word with the pilots before sitting down in a rear facing seat directly across from DeeAnn.
“Are you at least going to tell me why?” she sneered.
Alves barely reacted. “What exactly do you feel you need to know?”
“Why are you trying to find out where Dexter came from? What is so damn special about him that made you kill Luke over it?”
Shadows appeared through the cabin windows as the extra-long blades of the chopper overhead began to turn. They flashed eerily over Alves’ face as the motion accelerated.
“And I suppose you think this knowledge will somehow help you in your effort with the monkey?” Alves asked sarcastically.
“It might.”
Alves shook his head, irritated, but he relented. “Your ignorance knows no bounds. Luke knew the monkey was special. That was very obvious from his intelligence alone. But other things indicated there was something more. Things like his hair and teeth. They suggested that Dexter was much older than expected, given the normal lifespan of capuchins.” Alves paused and glanced out the window as they felt the helicopter lift off the ground. “So Luke did a DNA test. He wanted to match it against the current gene mapping for capuchins. But he found something none of us were expecting. Something that made everything else pale in comparison.”
“That he was smarter than you?”
The old Alves would have at least grinned at the insult. This Alves simply looked at her with increased irritation. “He found that the monkey’s gene sequencing was different. It wasn’t just older than normal, it was a lot older!”
The nasty look on DeeAnn’s face fell away as an innate curiosity overtook her. “How old?”
“Most capuchins live a maximum age of twenty-five years in the wild. But your Luke Greenwood was convinced that Dexter was well over a hundred.”
45
Admiral Langford kept his head against the headrest, trying to relax in the back seat of the town car. He rolled it sideways and peered out of one of the darkened windows. Even at six a.m., the traffic heading into downtown Washington, D.C., was beginning to slow with congestion. The only consolation was knowing that several others from the President’s security cabinet were having to endure the same conditions.
The folder on the seat next to him was filled with copies of pictures, diagrams, and the hasty write-up sent over by Commander Lawton after their call. Given how rapidly the cabinet meeting was put together, only the President and Vice President had an inkling of what it was about. The rest would find out soon enough.
Langford’s cell phone rang. He reached into his inside coat pocket to retrieve it. It was a number he didn’t recognize.
“Langford here.”
“Admiral, this is Caesare.”
“Caesare? Aren’t you supposed to be on a boat headed for the Bowdi
tch?”
“Yes, sir. I am. But something urgent has just come to my attention that I need to speak to you about.”
Langford looked outside again at the ever slowing traffic. “I appear to have plenty of time.”
President Carr looked up from his copy of Lawton’s write-up and back to Admiral Langford with raised eyebrows. “Is this real?”
“We believe it to be authentic, Mr. President.”
“Jesus Christ!” He put the paper down in front of him and looked at the high-resolution pictures again. “How the hell did the Chinese find out about this?”
Vice President Bailey put down his own copy. “And how did they convince Guyana to just roll over for it?”
Miller answered. “We don’t know who or how they found it. But it appears they convinced the government of Guyana the old fashioned way.”
“They bought them off,” Baily acknowledged.
Carr smirked. “You say that as if we wouldn’t have done the same thing.” He rubbed his forehead absently. “How can we be sure about the implications this Commander Lawton is laying out here? I mean, how many scientific discoveries do we hear about every day that end up meaning nothing? Not everything pans out.”
“That’s true,” agreed Secretary of State Bartman, from across the table. “If I had a nickel for every medical or technological advancement that promised to be a breakthrough, I’d be a rich man.”
Next to Miller, Langford shrugged. “The fact is, sir, we don’t know.”
“How long have we been testing this thing, forty-eight hours?” Bartman asked, with a hint of sarcasm. “Look, I’m not saying this isn’t what she claims, but how on earth can we be sure after just forty-eight hours? Other advancements have turned out to be nonviable after months, even years.”
The Admiral sat motionless, listening. Finally, he frowned and scratched his cheek. “Well, the Chinese have had months to study it, maybe longer. And they sent a warship to go get it.”
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