Next: A Novel (44 page)

“That is why when an individual donates tissue to a doctor for a research study, it is not the same as donating a book to a library. It never will be. If the doctor or his research institution wishes later to use that tissue for some other purpose, they should be required to obtain permission for this new use. And so on, indefinitely. If magazines can notify you when your subscription runs out, universities can notify you when they wish to use your tissues for a new purpose.

“We are told this is onerous to medical research. The reverse is true. If universities do not recognize that people retain a reasonable, and emotional, interest in their tissue in perpetuity, then people will not donate their tissues for research. They will sell them to corporations instead.

And their lawyers will refine documents that forbid the universities to use so much as a blood test for any purpose at all, without negotiated payment. Patients are not naive and neither are their attorneys.

“The cost of medical research will increase astronomically if physicians and universities continue to act in a high-handed manner. The true social good, therefore, is to enact legislation that enables people to maintain disposition rights to their tissue, forever.

“We are told that a patient’s interest in his tissues, and his right to privacy, ends at death. That, too, is outmoded thinking that must change. Because the descendants of a dead person share his or her genes, their privacy is invaded if research is done, or if the genetic makeup of the dead person is published. The children of the dead person may lose their health insurance simply because contemporary laws do not reflect contemporary realities.

“But in the end, the Burnet case has gone awry as it has because of a profound and fundamental error by the courts. Issues of ownership will always be clouded when individuals are able to manufacture within their bodies what the court has ruled someone else owns. This is true of cell lines; it is true of genes, and of certain proteins. These things cannot reasonably be owned. It is a standing rule of law that our common heritage cannot be owned by any person. It is a standing rule that facts of nature cannot be owned. Yet for more than two decades, legal rulings have failed to affirm this concept. Patent court rulings have failed to affirm this concept. The resultant confusions will only increase with time, and with the advances of science. Private ownership of the genome or of facts of nature will become increasingly difficult, expensive, obstructive. What has been done by the courts is a mistake, and it must be undone. The sooner the better.”

Alex turned to Bob Koch. “I think this judge had help,” she said.

“Yeah, could be,” Bob said.

CH090

Rick Diehl was trying to keep it together, but everything seemed to be falling apart. The maturity gene was a disaster. And worse, BioGen was getting sued by a lawyer in New York who was smart and unscrupulous. Rick’s attorneys told him to settle, but if he did, it would bankrupt the company. Although that would probably happen anyway. BioGen had lost the Burnet line, they had failed to replace it with cells from Burnet’s kid, and now it looked like a new patent interfered with their product, rendering it worthless.

At Diehl’s request, his wife had come out of hiding and returned to town. The kids were at her parents’ house in Martha’s Vineyard for the summer. She was going to get custody. His attorney, Barry Sindler, was himself facing a divorce, and didn’t seem to have time for Rick these days.

There was a big uproar over all the gene testing being done for custody cases. Sindler had been widely denounced for pioneering the practice, deemed unethical.

There was talk in Congress of passing laws to limit genetic testing. But observers doubted Congress would ever act, because the insurance companies wanted testing. Which was only logical, given that insurance companies were in the business of not paying claims.

Brad Gordon had left town while awaiting trial. It was rumored he was traveling around the West, getting himself into trouble.

Rodriguez’s law firm had presented BioGen with the first part of their bill, for more than a million dollars. They wanted another two million on retainer, in light of all the pending litigation the company faced.

Rick’s assistant buzzed him on the intercom. “Mr. Diehl, the woman from BDG, the security company, is here to see you.”

He sat up in his chair. He remembered how electrifying Jacqueline Maurer was. She radiated sexuality and sophistication. He felt alive just being with her. And he hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Send her in.” He stood up, hastily stuffed his shirt into his pants, and turned to the door.

A young woman of thirty, wearing a nondescript blue suit and carrying a briefcase, came into the room. She had a pleasant smile, a chubby face, and shoulder-length brown hair. “Mr. Diehl? I’m Andrea Woodman, of BDG. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet with you earlier but, gosh, we’ve been so busy with other clients the last few weeks, this was the first I could come. I’m so glad to make your acquaintance.” She held out her hand.

He just stared.

CAVEMEN PREFERRED BLONDES

Anthropologist Notes Rapid Evolution of Light Gene Are Blondes Really Sexier?

A new study by Canadian anthropologist Peter Frost indicates that European women evolved blue eyes and blond hair at the end of the last Ice Age as a way to attract mates. The hair color gene MC 1R evolved seven variants around 11,000 years ago, he notes. This occurred extremely rapidly, in genetic terms. Ordinarily such a change would take close to a million years.

But sexual preference can produce rapid genetic change. Competition by women for males, who were in short supply due to early death in harsh times, led to the new hair and eye color. Frost’s conclusions are supported by the work of three Japanese universities, which fixed the date of the genetic mutation for blondes.

Frost suspects that blondes have sexual appeal because light hair and eyes are a marker for high estrogen levels in women, and hence greater fertility. But not everyone agrees with this view.

Jodie Kidd, 27, the blond model, said, “I don’t think being a blonde makes you more ripe for sexual activity…Beauty is much deeper than the color of your hair.”

Professor Frost’s theory appeared in the journal Evolution and Human Behavior . His research was corroborated by a WHO study that predicted the demise of blondes by 2202. Subsequent reports contested the results of the WHO study after a UN panel denied its accuracy.

CH091

Frank Burnet walked into the starkly modern offices of venture capitalist Jack Watson shortly after noon. It was as he had seen it on previous visits. The Mies furniture, the modern art—a Warhol painting of Alexander the Great, a Koons balloon sculpture, a Tansey painting of mountain climbers that hung behind Watson’s desk. The muted phones, the beige carpets—and all the stunning women, moving quietly, efficiently. One woman stood beside Watson with her hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, Frank,” Watson said. He did not stand. “Have you met Jacqueline Maurer?”

“I don’t believe so.”

She shook his hand. Very cool, very direct. “Mr. Burnet.”

“And you know our resident tech genius, Jimmy Maxwell.” Watson nodded to a kid in his twenties, sitting at the back of the room. The kid had thick horn-rim glasses and wore a Dodgers jacket. He looked up from his laptop and waved to Burnet.

“How ya doing?”

“Hi, there,” Burnet said.

“I asked you to come in,” Watson said, shifting in his chair, “because we are very nearly finished with the entire business. Ms. Maurer has just negotiated the license agreement with Duke University. On extremely favorable terms.”

The woman smiled. A sphinx-like smile. “I get on with scientists,” she said.

“And Rick Diehl,” Watson continued, “has resigned as the head of BioGen. Winkler and the rest of the senior staff have gone with him. Most of them face legal troubles, and I am sad the company will not be able to assist them. If you break the law, the company’s insurance policy does not cover you. So they’re on their own.”

“Unfortunate,” Jacqueline Maurer said.

“So it goes,” Watson said. “But given the present crisis, the BioGen board of directors has asked me to take over, and put the company back on its feet. I have agreed to do so for an appropriate equity adjustment.”

Burnet nodded. “Then it all went according to plan.”

Watson gave him an odd look. “Uh, yes. In any case, Frank, nothing more prevents you from returning home to your family. I am sure your daughter and grandson will be happy to see you.”

“I hope so,” Burnet said. “She’s probably angry. But it’ll work out. It always does.”

“That’s right,” Watson said. Still seated, he extended his hand, wincing a little.

“Everything all right?” Frank said.

“It’s nothing. Too much golf yesterday, I pulled something.”

“But it’s good to take time off from work.”

“So true,” Watson said, flashing his famous smile. “So very true.”

CH092

Brad Gordon followed the crowds that swarmed toward Mighty Kong, the huge roller coaster at Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. He’d been visiting amusement parks for weeks now; this one was the biggest and best in America. He was feeling better; his jaw was almost completely pain-free now.

The only thing that bothered him was he had had one conversation with his lawyer, Johnson.

Johnson seemed smart, but Brad was uneasy. Why hadn’t his uncle paid for a first-rate attorney?

He always had before. Brad had the vague feeling that his life was on some sort of knife-edge.

But he pushed all those thoughts aside as he looked at the track far above him, and the people shrieking as their cars went by. This roller coaster! Mighty Kong! With more than four hundred feet of drop, it gave plenty of cause for people to scream. The line of eager ticket-holders buzzed with anticipation. Brad waited, as was his custom, until two very cute young girls got on line.

They were local kids, raised in a milk bottle, healthy and pink-skinned, with little budding breasts and sweet faces. One girl had braces, which was just adorable. He stayed behind them, happily listening to their high-pitched, inane chatter. Then he screamed with the rest of them, as he took the fantastic drop.

The ride left him shivering with adrenaline and pent-up excitement. He felt a bit weak as he climbed out of the car and watched the girls’ round little buns as they walked away from the coaster, toward the exit. Wait! They were going again! Perfect! He followed them, getting on line a second time.

He was feeling dreamy, catching his breath, letting his eyes drift over the soft curls of their hair, the freckles on their shoulders, revealed by their halter tops. He was starting to fantasize about what it would be like with one of them—hell, with both of them—when a man stepped forward and said, “Come with me, please.”

Brad blinked, guilty from his reverie. “I’m sorry?”

“Would you come with me, sir?” It was a handsome, confident face, one encouraging him, smiling. Brad was instantly suspicious. Often cops acted friendly and polite. He hadn’t done anything with these girls, he was sure of it. He hadn’t touched them, hadn’t said anything—

“Sir? Please? It’s important if you would step over here…Just over here…”

Brad looked and saw, to one side, some people wearing what appeared to be uniforms, maybe security uniforms, and a couple of men in white coats, like people from a sanitarium. And there was a television crew, or a camera crew of some kind, filming. And he suddenly felt paranoid.

“Sir,” the handsome man said, “please, we very much need you—”

“Why do you need me?”

“Sir, please…” The man was plucking at Brad’s elbow, then grabbed it more forcefully. “Sir, we get so few adult repeaters—”

Adult repeaters. Brad shivered. They knew. And now this guy, this handsome, charming smooth-talker was leading him toward the people in the white coats. They were obviously onto him, and he tugged free, but the handsome man held on.

Brad’s heart was pounding and he felt panic flood through him. He bent over and pulled his gun from its holster. “No! Let go of me!”

The handsome man looked shocked. Some people screamed. The man held up his hands. “Now take it easy,” he said, “it’s going to be—”

The gun in Brad’s hand fired. He didn’t realize it had happened until he saw the man stumble and start to fall. He clutched at Brad, hanging on him, and Brad shot again. The man fell back.

Everybody was screaming all over the place. Somebody shouted, “He shot Dr. Bellarmino! He shot Bellarmino!”

But by then he was very confused; the crowd was running away, those cute little buns were running; everything was ruined; and when more men in uniform yelled to him to drop his gun, he fired at them, too. And the world went black.

CH093

At the fall meeting of the Organization of University Technology Transfer officers (OUTT), a group dedicated to licensing the work of university scientists, philanthropist Jack B. Watson gave the stirring keynote address. He struck his familiar themes: the spectacular growth of biotechnology, the importance of gene patents, keeping Bayh-Dole in place, and the necessity of preserving the status quo for business prosperity and university wealth. “The health and wealth of our universities depends on strong biotech partners. This is the key to knowledge, and the key to the future!”

He told them what they wanted to hear, and left the stage to the usual thunderous applause. Only a few noticed that he walked with a slight limp and that his right arm did not swing as freely as the left.

Backstage, he took the arm of a beautiful woman. “Where the hell is Dr. Robbins?”

“He’s waiting for you in his clinic,” she said.

Watson swore, then leaned on the woman as he walked outside to the waiting limousine. The night was cold, with a faint mist. “Fucking doctors,” he said. “I’m not doing any more damn tests.”

“Dr. Robbins didn’t mention anything about tests.”

The driver opened the door. Watson climbed in awkwardly, his leg dragging. The woman helped him in. He slumped in the back, wincing. The woman got in on the other side. “Is the pain bad?”