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Authors: Louis Kirby

BOOK: Shadow of Eden
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Chapter 72

P
resident Quin and President Dixon sat by the Oval Office fireplace. Quin’s English was workable and he made his initial presentations without his interpreter, whom he waved off.

“President Dixon—Robert,” Quin began, leaning over towards Dixon. “I want to make a special gift before we talk about more substantive issues. As you know, my wife died last year of leukemia.”

The President looked surprised and confused. “I’m sorry, I did not know.”

Resnick did not react visibly, but clearly remembered that Quin’s wife’s death was in the President’s briefing package.
Damn, didn’t he read his materials?
Vice President Sullivan had attended the funeral. But, Resnick tried to remember, was it leukemia? And where was this going?

Quin continued, “Your mother died two years ago of leukemia. Both of us suffered a terrible loss that can eventually be prevented.”

Dixon, recovered his composure and said, “Our scientists are working on cancer research. I am advised there are some promising new developments.”

Quin smiled. “We have read many of the same reports. My country recognizes your scientists as the best in the world. But can they not always use more funding? My small country has elected to support your country’s outstanding leukemia research with a donation of one billion dollars. I have with me the first annual installment of one hundred million U.S. Dollars.”

He motioned to an aide who produced an envelope and handed it to President Quin who, in turn, handed it to the U.S. President. Dixon looked stunned. His right mouth and cheek twitched several times Resnick noted with alarm. She had never seen that before today.

Quin continued, “My people give this gift to our good friends knowing you will use it well to eliminate the terrible disease of leukemia. With this gesture, my people and I wish to play a small role in the effort to stamp out leukemia in our lifetimes.” He paused to consult a note card in his hand. “May we soon stop the deaths of our mothers and fathers, of our wives and husbands and, most importantly, may we stop the deaths of our children.”

Quin looked at the President whose eyes had begun to mist over, surprising Resnick who could not recall when Dixon had ever shed tears in public.

“I . . . I . . .” Dixon began.

The Taiwanese President grasped the President’s hand and leaned over whispering so only the closest aides could hear. “This, Robert, is a genuine token between our two great nations. Use it in the noble fight against a disease that knows no borders and spares no race, religion, or political orientation.”

This was way too thick, thought Resnick, but the President seemed completely under Quin’s spell.

“Mr. President,” Dixon said softly, almost hesitantly. “I’m not sure what to say.” He wiped his cheek with his hand. “This means a lot to me. I can tell you, we will put it to good use. Then we will have you visit and meet the doctors who are working on the cure.”

He grabbed President Quin’s hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you. On behalf of the American medical community, and in the interest of the people of the world who stand to benefit from your generous gift, I thank you and God thanks you.”

Chapter 73

T
hey walked into Steve’s newly rented room at the Residence Inn. It had felt strange to hear the receptionist call him Mr. Jones. He had scrawled his new name on the registration slip as nonchalantly as he could, sure the attendant was about to yell “Imposter!”

Earlier, they had made a stop at a south Phoenix shoe store with a non-descript sign in the window that read
Passport Photos
. Inside, Valenti had arranged for Steve to get a new driver’s license, credit card, and a prepaid cell phone—a new identity.

Valenti had grabbed the key card from the desk clerk. “Let’s go, Jason.”

Steve was slow to respond.

Valenti tapped his shoulder. “C’mon. You’ll get used to it. I did.”

Inside the room, Valenti turned on the TV, tuned it to CNN, and then muted it just like he had done in his office. A true news junkie, thought Steve.

“This is your new home,” Valenti announced. “I recommend leaving it as little as possible.” He sat down in a brown Naugahyde upholstered chair. “In fact, you’re not to leave it without me. Ever.”

Steve walked around the bed and looked out the window to the courtyard with the pool and the token plats of grass surrounded by gravel desert landscaping. He looked at the room’s décor with brown plaid upholstery and the kitchenette, complete with refrigerator, range, and coffeemaker.

“I know why you’re doing this, but I feel like a prisoner.” He held up his hand. “I know, it’s the only way to keep my sorry ass alive, as you so delicately put it and, believe me, I appreciate what you’re doing.”

“I hope you value it as much as your wife does and you don’t do anything brave or foolish, which, in my book, are the same thing.”

Steve must not have looked convinced because Valenti continued. “I’m not kidding. If I were on the other side of this and I had Trident’s resources behind me, I’d have you located in about a day even if you had left town.”

“Okay, just to play along, how come so many felons escape?”

Valenti made an exasperated motion with his hands. “They don’t. Ninety-five percent get caught from stupid mistakes. They go see a friend or stay with a family member, use a credit card, go to a spot where people can recognize them, fail to leave town, call family and friends, and a hundred other things that anyone with half a brain would know could get them caught.

“Right now, I bet every phone line at your hospital and office is or was tapped. There are computers that pick your voice out of a thousand, or pick out thousands of key phrases, all monitored by one bored technician in an office deep in Cincinnati.”

“Okay, I can’t communicate with anybody, how do I work with the police and my lawyer?”

“Through me.” Valenti made Steve feel like a child getting a lecture. “Listen, Doc—”

“Steve.”

Valenti looked at him for a moment. “Okay, Steve.” He seemed to like that. “We’re going to get to know each other pretty well until this is over. I hope it breaks soon so you can get on with your life, but there is a chance it might not. I want you to know that.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I guess I knew that.” He walked into the bathroom and took the paper cap off a glass and filled it with water from the faucet. He drank the contents and filled it again. He drank that one too, and filled the glass a third time. He returned to the sitting area somewhat more settled. “Well, let’s get started. How do we nail the bastards?”

“We work with the police and keep tabs on their progress. In the meantime, I find out where the print ad came from and who the plaintiff in the lawsuit is. You bone up on Trident and Eden.”

“Valenti,” Steve said, as an idea struck him. “Let’s go to the press and tell them the whole story, you know, Eden, the attempts on my life, everything.”

Valenti looked amused, to Steve’s irritation. “Sure, Doc. How does this sound? ‘Mr. Reporter, I’ve been accused of malpractice, my wife’s left me because I screwed another woman, oh, yes, I’m being sued for sexual abuse, and I tried to commit suicide with my son in the car, and, oh, by the way, we’ve found a previously unsuspected problem with the blockbuster drug, Eden.’ Headline stuff, that.”

“You don’t think they’ll believe me?”

“It’s exactly what our friends planned. You’ve lost your credibility, pal. Look at it this way, Steve. You’re a reporter and you see some doctor, who makes four times your income, come to you with a wild story. The world’s biggest selling drug is causing people to go nuts. But the doctor who’s telling you this is getting sued by a woman who claims he dropped his drawers in front of her and maybe did more. And worse, his allegations have no shred of proof.”

Steve saw Valenti’s point. Going to the press was a two-edged sword. It cut both ways and he had no control of it. The words of Secretary Jacob Castell came back to him.
They love you today; hate you tomorrow. Keep them at arm’s length.

“So,” Steve thought aloud, “we’re stuck with no plan except to try and find clues that may lead nowhere.”

“Welcome to real life.”

“Fuck!” Steve flopped onto the bed. “Well, don’t let me stew. I need to get busy on this. Make me useful. Let’s tie all this up with Trident. Where do you want me to begin?”

“Let’s figure this out together.” Valenti’s fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. “You work on finding a link between Trident and this prion thing. While we can prove it’s Eden, Trident will deny any prior knowledge. If no one can pin any fraud or conspiracy on them, they walk. If we think they covered this prion thing up, and we do, we’ve got to prove they knew about it and covered it up. And you know how unforgiving the public is about a cover-up.”

“I’m ready. Lets get going.”

“But,” Valenti held up a finger, “Remember, your staying alive is job one. Even if we can’t pin a cover-up on them, it’ll piss Trident off.”

A strange movement on the TV caught Steve’s eye. He turned and saw President Dixon standing in front of the blue curtains of the White House pressroom. Steve watched, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then it happened again—the movement—the President’s face was twitching.

“Valenti, turn it up.”

“What?”

“The TV.”

Valenti looked blankly at Steve. “Huh, why?”

“Oh, hell.” Steve grabbed the remote and un-muted the volume. President Dixon’s voice filled the room.

“—a really generous gift from our friends in Taiwan of a billion dollars to fight leukemia through research.”

“Political bullshit.” Valenti reached over and pulled the remote from Steve’s hand.

“Wait, wait. Just watch.”

Valenti’s fat finger paused on the remote. The TV had moved in for a close up of Dixon, his shoulders and face filling the TV screen. The President’s right eyelid and corner of his mouth twitched. Just once, but it was there. Valenti frowned for a moment before realization dawned on him. “Say, aren’t those like—”

“Yes, they are—like Shirley’s.”

They listened with new intensity to the President’s words.

“We’ve seen the sharp end of China’s bayonet in the Hong Kong massacre,” Dixon said speaking in his measured political voice, “with their violent and bloody suppression of peaceful demonstrators. Their promises to leave a reunited Hong Kong alone were lies and treachery. Our good ally, the Taiwanese, in contemplating the reunification of their island with Mainland China, cannot risk the same fate that befell Hong Kong and the militarization of their peaceful island.”

He paused. “And so, in defense of our good friend, in support of freedom and in defiance of tyranny, I have committed the support of the United States of America to defend the freedom-loving, island-nation of Taiwan in its declaration of independence from China.”

The reporters murmured audibly, but the President raised his voice. “This includes the commitment of the full force and might of the U.S. military. I have already ordered the Seventh Fleet to the Taiwan Straits to assist our ally, the newest nation in the world, the Republic of Taiwan.”

Chapter 74

“I
ndependent Taiwan?” Valenti exploded at the TV, “Jesus! That’s the most stupid-ass thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, crap,” Steve muttered. “Not him.”

Valenti muted the TV and turned to face Steve puzzled. “What? You think he’s got the big bad vampire bug? Aren’t you seeing things? You’re so screwed up, everything is looking like your brain thing.”

Steve smiled patiently, ready to join the debate. “Maybe. But you saw it.”

Valenti narrowed his eyes dubiously. “I saw a twitch, so what?”

“Well,” Steve laid out his first strategic question. “What was he saying about recognizing Taiwan’s independence? I thought that was a no, no.”

“Right. A stupid move.”

“Why so stupid? Convince me.”

“OK, I’ll play your game here. China. They’ll fight over Taiwan.”

“You think so? Really?”

“Well, what would the President do if Hawaii seceded from the Union?”

“Well, ok.” Steve cocked his head at the TV. “So, this supporting Taiwan’s independence, how bad is it, really?”

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