Mutation

by Robin Cook

  “May I take your coat?” Edith asked. “How about some coffee or tea?”

  “Tea would be nice,” Marsha said. She followed Edith into the living room.

  Mr. Blakemore, who had been sitting by the fire with the newspaper, got to his feet as Marsha entered. “I’m Carl Blakemore,” he said, extending his hand. He was a big man with leathery skin and dark features.

  Marsha shook his hand.

  “Sit down, make yourself at home,” Carl said, motioning to the couch. After Marsha sat down, he returned to his own seat, placing the paper on the floor next to his chair. He smiled pleasantly. Edith disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Interesting weather,” Carl said, attempting to make conversation.

  Marsha could not rid herself of the uncomfortable feeling she’d gotten when Edith had first looked at her. There was something stiff and unnatural about these people but Marsha couldn’t put her finger on it.

  A boy came down the stairs and into the room. He was just about VJ’s age but larger and stockier, with sandy-colored hair and dark brown eyes. There was a tough look about him, and the resemblance to Mr. Blakemore was striking. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

  “You must be Richie,” Marsha said, shaking hands with the boy. “I’m VJ’s mother. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Marsha felt an exaggeration was in order.

  “You have?” Richie asked uncertainly.

  “Yes,” Marsha said. “And the more I heard, the more I wanted to meet you. Why don’t you come over to our house sometime? I suppose VJ has told you we have a swimming pool.”

  “VJ never told me you have a swimming pool,” Richie said. He sat on the hearth and stared up at Marsha to the point that she felt even more uncomfortable.

  “I don’t know why he didn’t,” Marsha said. She looked at Carl. “You never know what’s in these children’s minds,” she said with a smile.

  “Guess not,” Carl said.

  There was an awkward silence. Marsha wondered what was going on.

  “Milk or lemon?” Edith asked, coming into the room and breaking the silence. She carried a tray into the living room and put it on the coffee table.

  “Lemon,” Marsha said. She took the cup from Edith and held it while Edith poured. Then she squeezed in a little lemon. When she was finished, she settled back. Then she noticed that the other three people were not joining her. They were just staring.

  “No one else is having any tea?” Marsha asked, feeling progressively self-conscious.

  “You enjoy it,” Edith said.

  Marsha took a sip. It was hot, so she placed it on the coffee table. She cleared her throat nervously. “I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this.”

  “Not at all,” Edith said. “Being a rainy day and all, we’ve just been relaxing around the house.”

  “I’ve wanted to meet you for some time,” Marsha said. “You’ve been awfully nice to VJ, I’d like to return the favor.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” Edith asked.

  “Well, for one thing,” Marsha said, “I’d like to have Richie come over to our home and spend the night. If he’d like to, of course. Would you like to do that, Richie?”

  Richie shrugged his shoulders.

  “Why exactly would you like Richie to spend the night?” Carl asked.

  “To return the favor, of course,” Marsha said. “Since VJ has spent so many nights over here, I thought it only natural that Richie come to our house once in a while.”

  Carl and Edith exchanged glances. Edith spoke: “Your son has never spent the night here. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Marsha looked from one person to the other, her confusion mounting. “VJ has never stayed here overnight?” she asked incredulously.

  “Never,” Carl said.

  Looking down at Richie, Marsha asked, “What about last Sunday. Did you and VJ spend time together?”

  “No,” Richie said, shaking his head.

  “Well, then, I suppose I have to apologize for taking your time,” Marsha said, embarrassed. She stood up. Edith and Carl did the same.

  “We thought you’d come to talk about the fight,” Carl said.

  “What fight?” Marsha asked.

  “Apparently VJ and our boy had a little disagreement,” Carl said. “Richie had to spend the night in the infirmary with a broken nose.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Marsha said. “I’ll have to have a talk with VJ.”

  As quickly and as gracefully as she could, Marsha left the Blakemore house. When she got into her car, she was furious. She sure would have a talk with VJ. He was even worse off than she’d thought. How could she have missed so much? It was as though her son had a separate life, one entirely different from the one he presented. Such cool, calm deceit was markedly abnormal! What was happening to her little boy?

  11

  Saturday Afternoon

  VICTOR regained consciousness gradually. Through a haze, he heard muffled noises he couldn’t make out. Then he realized the noises were voices. Finally he recognized VJ’s voice, and the boy was angry, yelling at someone, telling them that Victor was his father.

  “I’m sorry.” The words carried a heavy Spanish accent. “How was I to know?”

  Victor felt himself being shaken. The jostling made him aware that his head hurt. He felt dizzy. Reaching up, he felt a lump the size of a golf ball on the top of his forehead.

  “Dad?” VJ called.

  Victor opened his eyes groggily. For a moment the headache became intense, then waned. He was looking up into VJ’s icy blue eyes. His son was holding his shoulders. Beyond VJ were other faces with swarthy complexions. Next to VJ was a particularly dark man with an almost sinister expression on his face, heightened by the effect of an eyelid that drooped over his left eye.

  Closing his eyes again and gritting his teeth, Victor sat up. Dizziness made him totter for a moment, but VJ helped steady him. When the dizziness passed, Victor opened his eyes again. He also felt the bump again, only vaguely remembering how he’d gotten it.

  “Are you all right, Dad?” VJ persisted.

  “I think so,” Victor said. He looked at the strangers. They were dressed in the typical Chimera security uniforms, but he didn’t recognize any of them. Behind them stood Philip, looking sheepish and afraid.

  Glancing around the room to orient himself, Victor first thought he was back in his lab because he was surrounded by the usual bevy of sophisticated scientific instrumentation. Right next to him he noticed one of the newest instruments available on the market: a fast protein liquid chromatography unit.

  But he wasn’t in his lab. The setting was an inappropriate combination of high-tech with a rustic background of exposed granite and hewn beams.

  “Where am I?” Victor asked as he rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his index fingers.

  “You are where you aren’t supposed to be,” VJ said.

  “What happened to me?” Victor asked as he tried to get his feet under him to stand.

  “Why don’t you just relax a minute,” VJ said, restraining him. “You hit your head.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Victor was tempted to say. He reached up and felt the impressive lump once more, then examined his fingers to see if there was any blood. He was still confused but his head was beginning to clear. “What do you mean, ‘I’m where I’m not supposed to be’?” he asked as if suddenly hearing VJ’s comment for the first time.

  “You weren’t supposed to see this hidden lab of mine for another month or so,” VJ said. “At least not until we were in my new digs across the river.”

  Victor blinked. Suddenly his mind was clear. He remembered the dark figure who’d clobbered him. He looked at his son’s smiling face, then let his eyes wander around the unlikely laboratory. It was as if he’d taken a step beyond reality where mass spectrometers competed with hand-chiseled granite. “Exactly where am I?” Victor asked.

  “We
are in the basement of the clock tower building,” VJ said as he let go of Victor and stood up. VJ made a sweeping gesture with his hand and said, “But we’ve changed the decor to suit our needs. What do you think?”

  Victor swallowed and licked his dry lips. He glanced at his son only to see him beaming proudly. He watched as Philip nervously wrung his hands. Victor looked at the three men in Chimera security guard uniforms—swarthy Hispanics with tanned faces and shiny black hair. Then his eyes slowly swept around the high-ceilinged room. It was one of the most astounding sights he’d ever seen. Directly in front of him was the yawning maw of the opening into the sluice. A slime of green mold oozed out of the lower lip with a trickle of moisture. Most of the opening was covered with a makeshift hatch made of heavy old lumber. The huge wooden trough that used to carry the water through the room had been dismantled to serve as raw materials for the hatch, the lab benches, and bookshelves.

  The room appeared to be about sixty feet across and about a hundred feet in length. The largest of the old paddle wheels still stood in its vertical position in the center of the room like a piece of modern sculpture. A number of the laboratory instruments were pushed up against its huge blades, forming a giant circle.

  At both ends of the room were several heavy doors reinforced with metal rivets. The walls of the room on all four sides were constructed of the same gray granite. The ceiling consisted of open joists supporting heavy planking. In addition to the largest of the paddle wheels, most of the old mechanical apparatus of huge rods and gears that had transmitted the waterpower were still in their original places, supported from the ceiling joists by metal sheaths.

  Just behind Victor was a flight of wooden stairs that rose up to the ceiling, dead-ending into wooden planks.

  “Well, Dad?” VJ questioned with anticipation. “Come on! What do you think?”

  Victor rose to his feet unsteadily. “This is your lab?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” VJ said. “Pretty cool, wouldn’t you say?”

  Wobbling, Victor made his way over to a DNA synthesizer and ran his hand along its top edge. It was the newest model available, better than the unit Victor had in his own lab.

  “Where did all this equipment come from?” Victor asked, spotting a magnetic electron microscope on the other side of the paddle wheel.

  “You could say it’s on loan,” said VJ. He followed his father and gazed lovingly at the synthesizer.

  Victor turned to VJ, studying the boy’s face. “Is this the equipment that was stolen from Chimera?”

  “It was never stolen,” VJ said with an impish grin. “Let’s say it was merely rerouted. It belongs to Chimera, and it’s still on Chimera grounds. I don’t think you could consider it stolen unless it left the Chimera complex.”

  Walking on to the next laboratory appliance, an elaborate gas chromatography unit, Victor tried to pull himself together. His headache still bothered him, especially when he moved, and he felt quite dizzy. But he was starting to think the dizziness could be attributed as much to the revelation of this lab than the blow to his head. This was something out of a dream—a nightmare. Gently touching one of the chromatography columns, he assured himself it was real. Then he turned to VJ, who was right behind him.

  “I think you had better explain this place from the beginning.”

  “Sure,” VJ said. “But why don’t we go into the living quarters where we’ll be more comfortable.”

  VJ led the way around the large paddle wheel, passed the electron microscope, and headed for the end of the room. When he got there, he opened the door on the left. He pointed to the door on the right: “More lab spaces through there. We never seem to have enough.”

  As Victor followed VJ, he noticed over his shoulder that Philip was coming but the security guards paid them no heed. Two of them had already sat down on a makeshift bench and started playing cards.

  VJ led Victor to the room that indeed looked like living quarters. Rugs in various sizes and shapes had been hung over the granite walls to provide a warmer atmosphere. About ten rollaway cots with bed linens cluttered the floor. Near the entrance door was a round table with six captain’s chairs. VJ motioned for his father to have a seat.

  Victor pulled out a chair and sat down. Philip silently sat down several chairs away.

  “Want something to drink? Hot chocolate or tea?” VJ asked, playing host. “We have all the comforts of home here.”

  “I think you’d better tell me what this is all about,” Victor said.

  VJ nodded, then quietly began. “You know I’ve been interested in what was going on in your lab from the first days you brought me to Chimera. The problem was nobody let me touch anything.”

  “Of course not,” Victor said. “You were an infant.”

  “I didn’t feel like an infant,” VJ said. “Needless to say, I decided early on I needed a lab of my own if I were to do anything at all. It started out small, but it had to get bigger since I kept needing more equipment.”

  “How old were you when you started?” Victor asked.

  “It was about seven years ago,” VJ said. “I was three. It was surprisingly easy to set the lab up with Philip around to lend the needed muscles.” Philip smiled proudly. VJ went on: “At first, I was in the building next to the cafeteria. But then there was talk about its being renovated, so we moved everything here to the clock tower. It’s been my little secret ever since.”

  “For seven years?” Victor questioned.

  VJ nodded. “About that.”

  “But why?” Victor asked.

  “So I could do some serious work,” VJ said. “Watching you and being around the lab I became fascinated with the potential of biology. It is the science of the future. I had some ideas of my own about how the research should have been conducted.”

  “But you could have worked in my lab,” Victor said.

  “Impossible,” VJ said with a wave of his hand. “I’m too young. No one would have let me do what I’ve been doing. I needed freedom from restrictions, from rules, from helping hands. I needed my own space, and let me tell you, it has paid off beyond your wildest dreams. I’ve been dying to show you what I’ve been doing for at least a year. You’re going to flip.”

  “You’ve had some successes?” Victor asked hesitantly, suddenly curious.

  “Several astounding breakthroughs is a better description,” VJ said. “Maybe you should try to guess.”

  “I couldn’t,” Victor said.

  “I think you could,” VJ said. “One of the projects is something that you yourself have been working on.”

  “I’ve been working on a lot of things,” Victor said evasively.

  “Listen,” VJ said, “my idea is to let you have credit for the discoveries so that Chimera can patent them and prosper. We don’t want anybody to know that I’m involved at all.”

  “Something like the swimming race?” Victor asked.

  VJ laughed heartily. “Something like that, I suppose. I prefer not to draw attention to myself. I don’t want anyone to pry, and people seem to get so curious when there’s a prodigy in their midst. I’d prefer you to get the credit. Chimera will get the patent. We can say I’ll offer you my results to compensate for space and equipment.”

  “Give me an idea of what you’ve turned up.”

  “For starters, I’ve solved the mystery of the implantation of a fertilized egg in a uterus,” VJ said proudly. “As long as the zygote is normal, I can guarantee one hundred percent implantation.”

  “You’re joking,” said Victor.

  “I’m not joking,” VJ said somewhat crossly. “The answer turned out to be both simple and more complicated than expected. It involves the juxtaposition of the zygote and the surface cells of the uterus, initiating a kind of chemical communication which most people would probably call an antibody-antigen reaction. It is this reaction that releases a polypeptide vessel proliferation factor which results in the implantation. I’ve isolated this factor and have produced it
in quantity with recombinant DNA techniques. A shot of it guarantees one hundred percent implantation of a healthy fertilized egg.”

  To emphasize his point, VJ pulled a vial out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of his father. “It’s for you,” he said. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win a Nobel Prize.” VJ laughed and Philip joined in.

  Victor picked up the vial and stared at the clear, viscous fluid within. “Something like this has to be tested,” he said.

  “It’s been tested,” VJ said. “Animals, humans, it’s all the same. One hundred percent successful.”

  Victor looked at his son, then at Philip. Philip smiled hesitantly, unsure of Victor’s reaction. Victor glanced at the vial again. He could immediately appreciate the academic and economic impact of such a discovery. It would be monumental, revolutionizing in-vitro fertilization techniques. With a product like this, Fertility, Inc., would dominate the field. It would have worldwide impact.

  Victor took a deep breath. “Are you sure this works in humans?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” VJ said. “As I said, it’s been tested.”

  “In whom?” Victor asked.

  “Volunteers, of course,” VJ said. “But there will be plenty of time to give you the details later.”

  Volunteers? Victor’s head reeled. Didn’t VJ realize he couldn’t blithely experiment with real people? There were laws to think of, ethics. But the possibilities were irresistible. And who was Victor to judge? Hadn’t he engineered the conception of the extraordinary boy he had before him now?

  “Let me look at your lab again,” Victor said, pushing away from the table.

  VJ ran ahead to open the door. Victor returned to the main room where the security men were still playing cards, talking loudly in Spanish.

  Victor slowly walked around the circle, gazing at the instrumentation. Impressive was an understatement. He realized his headache seemed suddenly better. He felt a growing sense of elation. It was hard to believe that his ten-year-old son was responsible for all this.