3 Great Thrillers

by Churton, Alex; Churton, Toby; Locke, John; Lustbader, Eric van; van Lustbader, Eric

  ‘Just philosophy?’

  ‘Well, in science we try to deal with what is actually happening. Effects are easier to see than causes, as you know. For example, when zinc finger proteins find a gene sequence that matches their fingertips, they lock on. That’s what they do. They lock on! I can’t say I really know why. They just do. But I suppose there’s a principle at work in there somewhere! Anyhow, as the fingers go into this lock-on mode, what we call a switch molecule gets activated. The switch molecule has been trailing behind the ZFP. This molecule switches the gene on or off.’

  ‘Brilliant stuff, Sir Moses. But how does all this relate to viruses and diseases?’

  ‘You ask all the right questions, Dr Ashe. You’d have made a good pupil.’

  ‘Did al-Qasr ask the right questions?’

  ‘Al-Qasr grew frustrated with the idea of relating genes to disease. But he did cotton on to the implications of zinc finger proteins. It was his eureka moment. As it was mine, in a sense. So, yes, he asked some good questions. These questions led him into a specialised sphere.’

  ‘I’m intrigued. What is this sphere, Sir Moses?’

  ‘Rewriting genes. Actually rewriting genes. Altering the building blocks – to some extent anyway. I mean, this is what we’re about, here! We want to get right in there and see if we can use this knowledge to help the human race.’

  ‘Did Sami al-Qasr share that ideal?’

  ‘Difficult to say. There’s always some self-interest. In Sami’s case, I suppose there was more. But he was still making a contribution. We were laying the stones for what would become known as gene therapy. This reached a stable state, more or less, by the mid-eighties, but by then al-Qasr was in Iraq. And I don’t honestly know where he took the fairly limited technologies we then had at our disposal.’

  ‘It might help if you could tell me where you had got to?’

  ‘Look, Ashe, could we do all this on another occasion?’

  ‘Forgive me, Sir Moses. I understand, but this enquiry is a matter of some urgency. Lives could be at stake.’

  ‘Lives, you say? All right, Dr Ashe. Where were we?’

  ‘Gene therapy.’

  ‘Right. Conventional gene therapy compensates for a genetic fault rather than corrects it. It adds working copies of genes to cells. Viruses have ways of kidding cells to let them in. Once they’re in – well, they’re in! And there’s nothing much you can do about it. Gene therapy took the road of exploiting this cunning.’

  ‘Imitating it?’

  ‘If you like. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em! You can’t really beat nature. The aim was to get genetic material incorporated into that of the host. You’ve got to establish a virus delivery system. New genes have to be smuggled into cells. The human body is a world of covert operations – just up your street, my dear fellow!’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘When trying to cure diseases, you want to smuggle in a retrovirus engineered so its genetic material contains the correct version of a faulty gene.’

  ‘Does it work?’

  ‘Limited successes. It was a bit of a scattergun approach. The idea is not unlike the original principle of Jenner’s bacteriology. Set a thief to catch a thief. You immunise by getting the system geared up to accept the enemy – in small doses. The body can be deceived. Nature is the great deceiver – and the great deceived.’

  ‘Sounds like philosophy, Sir Moses. I’m not sure I understand yet.’

  ‘Let’s put it like this. Patients have their cells “infected”, as it were, with these manipulated viruses.’

  ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

  ‘Yes. It’s not been a complete success. Far from it, really. Scientifically, it’s been very useful, but the process is not very efficient. Only a small number of cells actually take up the new genes. The process can be unstable and you can’t be sure the right cells have been targeted. Worryingly, the new gene can insert itself anywhere in the person’s DNA. The worst case, I suppose, occurred among a group of French children undergoing gene therapy. Some scientists think the genes inserted too close to those regulating the cancer might have caused leukaemia. There was a delay in trials. But now the technique has been taken further.’

  ‘Did al-Qasr have anything to do with new developments?’

  ‘He probably has some involvement with the new technique.’

  ‘Do you think he may have developed his own techniques?’

  ‘One hears rumours. Science never sleeps. I know he’s been involved in gene editing. And this is where ZFPs come into their own: the result, I’m proud to say, of my discovery.’

  While Ashe scribbled notes, Karla leant over his desk with a memo:

  Melissa telephoned. A misunderstanding.

  Are you available today?

  Ashe smiled and scrawled ‘NO’ over it. Karla whispered in his ear, ‘On your head be it, maestro!’

  Sir Moses picked up on the interruption. ‘You got yourself a girlie in there, Dr Ashe?’

  ‘Er, no, Sir Moses. My secretary. You were explaining about gene editing.’

  ‘Can’t we discuss your secretary instead?’

  ‘I’m just trying to grasp what direction al-Qasr might be heading in.’

  ‘Speak to RIBOTech, California, though they probably don’t want to talk. To be honest, the only person who knows where al-Qasr is right now, is al-Qasr.’

  ‘In more ways than one, Sir Moses.’

  ‘I shan’t ask what you mean by that. Off the record, I’d say Sami’s involved with advanced gene editing. Hot stuff. Gene editing gets to grips with the DNA’s own repair system to correct a faulty gene. It’s like hijacking a natural function.

  ‘DNA, as I’m sure you’re aware, is the chemical instruction manual for our bodies. One unit in that system is a gene. One small fault in a gene alters the sense of an instruction. These faults or errors are called “single gene defects”. They may result in anything from sickle-cell anaemia to Huntingdon’s Disease. Some genes control how cells divide. Single gene defects here – especially in later life – cause a range of cancers.

  ‘As I said, in gene editing, zinc finger proteins really come into their own. Now I don’t know what al-Qasr’s been up to but I can tell you something about the scientists at Sangamo BioSciences, another gene research lab in California. They’ve had the decency to put their discoveries in the public domain. I can only suspect your man’s on strictly government work.’

  ‘I suspect so. Possibly military applications.’

  ‘Hmm… We have people on this sort of thing too. You might find someone to ask about it at one of the government institutions. Talk to Ran. He’s your best bet there.’

  ‘What’s happened at Sangamo, Sir Moses? I just want to grasp the principle.’

  ‘Ah, yes. As far as I can tell, the scientists there have attached a specially made ZFP to a molecule. This molecule can cut – or edit – DNA. Getting into the cell in the manner of a virus, the zinc fingers locate “their” gene. Then they splice themselves into the genetic movie, as it were. The DNA editor cuts the defective gene. The act of cutting the DNA triggers the cell to repair the damage. Because the cell needs the right bit of DNA to make a repair, fresh copies of the right gene are sent in with the zinc fingers.

  ‘And then, dear friend, by the magic of nature, the cell takes the good genes and uses them as templates for the repair operation. The faulty parts are exchanged for fresh parts. And once repaired, the cell divides normally with all the new cells carrying the correct gene. Quite something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sounds like a cross between a film editor’s suite and a commercial garage.’

  Sir Moses laughed. ‘I suppose it is. It always sounds easy after some poor slave to science has spent years sweating to make it happen! Having said that, Dr Ashe, as far as I know they haven’t reached the level of statistically verifiable certainty.’

  ‘Not fully tested yet?’

  ‘No. But they’re very close.’

 
; ‘How close?’

  ‘Six months. But even if they can test it, I’d reckon it will be only a portion of cells – maybe 15 to 20 per cent – that can have faulty genes corrected. Still, what a start!’

  ‘Would you be surprised if I suggested al-Qasr might have made a breakthrough?’

  ‘Of course it’s possible, but where’s your evidence? You’ll need to be sure of your facts. People claim extraordinary things in this field all the time. I’m sure al-Qasr will have seen some of the problems with the earlier gene therapy. He was on to my discoveries pretty damn quickly. But, like I said, he went to Iraq – out of sight, out of mind. And then, the question of motivation comes in.’

  ‘In what sense?’

  ‘Well, if you follow my line about him wanting to be the star. You’d expect him to publish his discoveries and make a great name for himself. You’d be hard pressed to keep him quiet about it – even if he was under a no-disclosure contract with the government. I mean, this kind of discovery could save millions of lives. Imagine the publicity: “Brilliant Arab Saves the World!”’

  ‘Unless…’

  ‘Unless what, Dr Ashe?’

  ‘Well, unless he had even bigger fish to fry.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can help you there. It starts to get science fiction. I mean, what happens when you fall off the cutting edge?’

  ‘Quite.’

  Ashe thought hard, trying with all his will to get into the mind of al-Qasr, trying to understand what might be driving him, pushing him, leading him. The information he’d received from Beck was painfully inadequate. What was worse, it seemed well at odds with the picture he was receiving from Sir Moses Beerbohm.

  ‘Are you there, Dr Ashe?’

  ‘Yes, there’s just…’

  ‘I think I see my friend. Yes, that’s him. I really have to go now. I’m—’

  ‘Sir Moses. A quick question.’

  ‘Is there really such a thing?’

  ‘It’s most urgent. I can’t put it more strongly than that.’

  ‘Hold on a second.’

  86

  Sir Moses left the phone to ask his friend to wait for the call to end, but returned swiftly.

  ‘Dr Ashe?’

  ‘Sir Moses, it seems you’ve something here with this retroviral penetration concept that could be turned into a weapon.’

  There was a pause. ‘Anything can be turned into a weapon, Toby. That’s true. And very frustrating it is for we scientists who prefer to remain moral virgins.’

  Ashe laughed.

  ‘I wish it were so funny, Dr Ashe. So many of our revelations turn into nightmares. But as regards your question, well, I suppose the problem here would be delivery. How do you get the virus to the target? Still… if that wasn’t a factor… I mean, yes, if you can change genetic factors for health, then you can change them for… But it’s so hit and miss.’

  ‘Like many weapons, Sir Moses. But what… what if you, for the sake of argument, wished to annihilate a race?’

  ‘Use a bomb! Much quicker!’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’

  ‘Of course. Have you heard that old chestnut that some Israeli politician was harping on about some time ago? A race-targeted weapon.’

  ‘Is that… is that really possible?’

  ‘Well Ashe, if you do more homework on the subject, you’ll soon find that race is a very complex thing and not really a question of say, a single genetic pattern. Certain races have things in common, like certain families or individuals. But there’s no common racial genetic pattern that defines a person genetically as being a member of an ethnic or racial group. We’ve pretty well all got a bit of each other in us, if you go back far enough. What’s that line of John Lennon’s? Remember him? Mad but brilliant too. Can’t recall exactly but it went something like: “I am he and you are we and you are me and we are all together.” Wasn’t he saying that from a cosmic perspective or something, he could have been a walrus? Who knows? But it kind of sums it up in a surrealist way. I mean, the idea’s preposterous really. Not just the walrus, I mean, but this whole idea of targeting a race from the inside, so to speak. And quite devilish too.

  ‘But whichever way you look at it, Ashe, it’s totally impracticable. Many Jews have some genetic components shared, as it were, with Arabs; many Arabs have Jewish or other characteristics. I mean, you might be waving different flags on the outside, but wrapping yourself up with the same one on the inside – and that flag is probably nothing like the one you’re waving! I mean, genetics does have something to say about all divisions in the world.’

  ‘A mixed message, I think.’

  Sir Moses laughed. ‘Yes, of course. But, seriously, a race-based weapon would be no weapon at all, really. I mean, why use genetics? Hitler used gas.’

  ‘But in principle—’

  ‘Well, now you’re talking principles again. Philosophy. All right, just for you. A second of speculation. Don’t quote me! You’d need… oh I don’t know, some kind of control – control specimen – or template. An original genetic map: a primary pattern from which the diversity proceeded. Then I suppose you could track the fundamental mutations. That would, in theory, be like having the key to a safe. But after the Tower of Babel, as the Bible story pictures it, all the races got mixed up.’

  ‘Don’t you mean separated, Sir Moses? Whereas before they’d been more or less a single entity, the story says after Babel – or Babylon – the peoples could no longer speak the same language.’

  ‘My dear fellow, are we discussing theology here, or science? My point is that since some unknown primordial time, gene pools have been shared around. Everyone’s been swimming in everyone else’s pool. Gets a bit murky. Our current ideas of race came very late in the day. I mean the Jews weren’t even a race before… what is it? Moses? Abraham? It was a belief that separated them, not a skin type. Now I’m only prepared to say another word if the question is strictly scientific and not speculative. My friend is in his eighties – seconds are precious.’

  ‘As they are to me, Sir Moses, believe me. If you had the template – a kind of original genetic template – of a major gene system that is fundamental to a number of races that have stemmed from it, would you be able to learn from it what constitutes the deviation from the original?’

  ‘If you had the template… it’s feasible.’ Beerbohm paused again. ‘Big question… I mean, you might then be able to target families, clans, micro-groups. But, my dear fellow, I suspect it’s quite impossible. Where could you get such a template from? It was all too long ago.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir Moses. You’ve been tremendously helpful.’

  ‘Well, I can’t see how, but good luck!’

  Ashe replaced the receiver gently, a swell of pride welling up inside him.

  ‘Karla!’

  ‘Yes, maestro.’

  ‘Tell Melissa I’m available. I suddenly feel better about life.’

  ‘Too late. Told her you couldn’t speak to her. Said she was going to Dublin with friends and had no idea when she’d be back – as far as you’re concerned, that is.’

  ‘Me and my big mouth.’

  ‘Depends where you put it. I told you not to play around with that particular young lady. You may have lost her forever.’

  ‘Lost her? I never really found her.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  87

  Autonomous Kurdish Region, Northern Iraq

  Massoud’s little house in Shariya was surrounded by villagers, all clamouring to see the relative of the Mir.

  Sinàn, a junior member of the Chols – the Yezidi royal family – was nervous. From out of the much-travelled suitcase he carefully took the three components of the senjaq and assembled the bronze pieces. A sheykh of the Qatani clan watched closely as Sinàn screwed together the large circular base, the smaller middle disc and then the bulbous, bold-breasted bronze peacock with its stunning fan-like plumage. At the end of each feather was an eye, symbolising the all-seeing lordship of Taw
usi Melek, the Peacock Angel.

  The Qatani sheykh smiled and kissed the base of the senjaq. Women outside the house in long velvet skirts and round linen turbans trilled with excitement. The senjaq, or standard, was the sacred image of the Lord of the Earth’s destiny, the invisible patron of the Yezidis, the world’s secret governor, the greatest angel of them all, given control of the universe by the highest god, whose spirit dwelled in everything. Several villagers shook with emotion to see the sacred peacock, the focus of devotion, a signifier of the divine presence, his all-seeing will. It was a symbol of continuity and of the future blessings guaranteed to faithful Yezidis, God’s special people – born to suffer, in a unique way, the miseries and trials of the centuries.

  It had been a long time since these people had witnessed the parade of the peacock through their village. Their village – as most people would understand the term – was gone.

  The inhabitants of seven villages from the surrounding mountains had been forcibly relocated to Shariya by Saddam Hussein during the seventies, obliged to start again in a unified cluster of spare, concrete nests constructed by the government on a cruelly arid plain. Yet the identities of each of the seven villages had remained intact. So much so that during this, the annual visit of the Baba Sheykh to the Yezidi villages, the spiritual guest had to stay for seven nights, with a host from each of the original seven villages.

  A Yezidi village, like the sheykh, was a spiritual as well as a physical entity. The official map said ‘Shariya’, but in their hearts the Yezidis were still linked to their own mountain pastures, with their crops and goats.

  But where was the Baba Sheykh? The villagers expected him. This was tradition and Tawusi Melek willed such things to be.

  A meeting with the Mir in Baghdad had decided the issue. News of the Baba Sheykh’s kidnap was to be withheld from the murids, or followers of the sheykhs, as long as possible. Such news could only dampen morale, already at a low ebb. Worse, the news would surely lead to rumours and then to vivid but fictional accounts; there would be cries for revenge. Someone would be blamed.