The Leaves in Winter (43 page)

“No!” she yelled, rushing to his side. She shook him and turned him over. Her trembling hands felt his face and lifted his head. His mouth hung slack, his eyes were closed, no breath was evident.

Their bodyguard rushed into the private box and knelt at
Eugene
’s side. He checked for pulse at the side of the neck then put ear to chest to listen for a heartbeat.

Leah crumbled back, sitting on the floor next to
Eugene
. Her cries of shock and grief reverberated throughout the hall. Some in the audience were on their feet. All eyes turned to the box location near the stage. The performers stood stunned, frozen between the drama they were pretending and the drama unfolding.

The bodyguard pulled out his phone and called for help. Ushers from the Royal Theater arrived to assist. A doctor from the audience ran up the short flight of stairs and entered the booth. He loosened
Eugene
’s tie and opened his shirt. He checked for vital signs but found none. Eugene Mass was dead.

Leah was helped up from the floor and into her seat by the bodyguard. She sat silent and shivering and stared down at the motionless form that was her husband.

The doctor lifted Mass’ eyelids and then opened his mouth wider before glancing back at the bodyguard. “This man may have been poisoned. Proper toxicology should be done. Finding the source would be helpful. Look around.”

Leah overheard. Her eyes shifted to the champagne bucket at her side. She reached forward and grabbed the open bottle from the ice.

“Check this,” she ordered. “It was the last thing he had.”

A razor chill of realization shot through her – the champagne was meant for both of them. If not for her momentary aggravation at
Eugene
, she might have accepted a glass of the rare vintage when he offered it to her. The difference between living and dying was so thin and chancy. Experiencing it close up was terrifying.

A commotion out in the hallway announced the arrival of paramedics. As the bodyguard took possession of the open bottle, Leah stood and watched as
Eugene
was lifted by two men and carried away. She stepped after them.

“I’m going with you.”

A uniformed attendant was polite but direct. “We are taking him to Clinique Saint-Jean. You can meet us there.”

Leah’s shout echoed into the lobby. “Damn it! No! I’m going with you!” Leah followed on their heels. As she walked, she turned to her bodyguard. “Have that bottle analyzed immediately. Find out who put it here. Do whatever it takes. If this was poison, I’ll do anything to find the one responsible.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The bodyguard stayed at her side as a path cleared in the lobby’s commotion to let them pass.

The paramedics placed
Eugene
on a rolling stretcher, covered him with a sheet and blanket and secured him with straps, then hurried him outside to the open rear doors of a waiting ambulance.

Leah watched as the gurney supports folded away and
Eugene
’s stretcher was pushed onboard. She started up the step into the back of the ambulance but paused to snap at the bodyguard one last time.

“Call me as soon as you know. Remember – whatever it takes.”

For the next hour, Leah endured an agonizing wait at the hospital.

When the preliminary toxicology report came back, she felt a change in her heart. The diagnosis was poisoning, ingested with the champagne. She wanted to cry but found she was too angry for that. A short time later, the bodyguard called to confirm what she already knew. Someone had injected poison through the cork into the bottle given to them in thanks, as celebration.

A nurse escorted her to an office so she could have a private moment to sit and grieve alone. The certainty collapsed around her; life would never be the same.

Eugene and she were just starting their extended life together. Now it would never be. She was isolated and tired and deeply hurt. The crime of it would haunt her for the rest of her many years. In that instant, she wished she had never been given
GenLET
. She wished there was a way to go back to simpler, happier days.

But most of all, she wished for vengeance.

Chapter 41

Sub-Basement of Building 3

GARC,
Puerto Rico

“Your package has been cleared. It’s arrived in containment.”

Janis stuffed the phone back in pocket and looked up from her work. The message from Project security was both ominous and exciting. The FedEx Express box had no return address. Security suspected the worst and had delayed its receipt until additional scans for hazardous or explosive materials were completed.

Janis knew the package would be transported through an isolated hallway that was sectioned off from other areas of the facility. It would be taken under guard to a special BSL2 unpackaging room adjacent to the basement BSL3 and BSL4 suites. Each area was accessible only by computer-controlled biometric and RIDIS scans.

Janis hurried to a wall-mounted intercom. Through a window she could see Faye at work in a clean suit in BSL3 confinement.

“Faye, the package has arrived. I’m going to unpack it and prep it for Level 4.”

Faye raised a double-gloved hand and nodded in her helmet.

Janis hurried instructions to two assistants while on her way out into the hall. A dozen steps later she stood for a RIDIS scan and gained access to the special confinement hallway. Halfway down that hall another scan was required before she could enter the unpackaging room.

She quickly donned protective coat, mask and gloves. The mask was a basic surgical style unreliable for viral filtration but as standard procedure it serviced as a reminder not to touch gloves to face at any time.

Following Project requirements, Janis activated video capture and prepared for the annoyance of talking her way through the unpacking process to provide a verbal record of her method and what was found as it happened.

The brown box awaited her on a clear high table. She approached the box and found its top flap already slit open by security. She removed packing material until a metal cylinder was uncovered. Speaking loudly for the overhead microphones, she made her motions clear and systematic.

“The Primary container is a standard screw-top canister…”

She lifted it from the box and inspected what little markings it had. The standard agent label with biohazard symbol was just below the screw cap. Below that was the customary label for shipper information.

“Hand-printing on the agent label says
2nd Protocol.
Normal shipper information is absent; in its place are two letters –
KM
.”

She turned the canister over and found tape on the bottom. She pulled it back.

“One computer flash drive has been taped to the bottom of the canister…” She pulled the flash drive off and set it aside.

Then she unscrewed the canister cap over a metal tray.

“There’s dry ice and shock absorbent material between the Primary and Secondary containers...”

Gingerly, she removed the Secondary Container, which was a smaller canister also secured by a screw top.

“The Secondary container’s specimen record label is blank. The only other marking is a red biohazard symbol…”

Janis unscrewed the cap from the Secondary container.

“Absorbent packing material is wrapped around the Primary Culture Container…” Janis slid the final package out and into her hands. Carefully, she removed the packing material until a long tube appeared.

She examined the long clear tube. It was capped at the top and stuffed with white sponge at the bottom. The tube was internally divided into compartments with a single thin wire traversing through all levels.

“The agent is confined by a standard flexible twisted-wire transport swab…”

Behind her, the door opened and in rushed Faye and one of the assistants Janis had given instructions to. Faye quickly suited up in coat, mask and gloves and joined Janis at the table.

“How’s it going?” asked Faye.

Janis held the tube up. “Here it is…”

“Any instructions?”

Janis reached over, grabbed the flash drive and handed it to Faye. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Faye turned to the assistant. “Until we know what we’ve got, we’d better use the cabinet lab. Go shower and suit up. We’ll need you to stage it for analysis.”

The BSL4 environment was divided between suit and cabinet labs. The suit lab allowed the greatest freedom of movement but the cabinet lab provided the highest level of safety and containment. Unfortunately, it was also the most challenging and fatiguing to work in.

The containment cabinet stretched long with space for six researchers at a time. Thick stainless steel provided a formidable barrier to the pathogen but researchers could only access their work through large and cumbersome glove ports. Anyone working in either of the BSL4 suites would have to shower before entering and exiting as well as change clothes on the way in and out. Required garb consisted of a bulky containment suit kept at positive air pressure.

Janis set the clear tube down on its packing material and turned to Faye. “Let’s go see what kind of information he gave us.”

The two of them shed the protective gear and left the assistant alone to work.

The walk back to their workstations was quick but long enough for Janis to get an update on Faye’s work on sterility. The exchange was fast and technical.

“Any luck with the immunoassay?”

“Not yet.”

“Do we know any more about ubiquitin?”

“It’s a complex mixture, that’s for sure.”

“What about trying a multi-variant regression analysis?”

“The problem is: ubiquitin is used in all kinds of cellular processes. Labeling proteins for degradation and apoptosis is just one of them. Without time-consuming tests, there’s no way to tell if the effect we’re seeing is from interaction with the payload or a natural process. Whoever designed 1st Protocol hid their tracks well.”

Janis arrived at her desk and sat down.

“What if we concentrated on the E1 enzyme? That’s where the ubiquitin cascade starts. We could check out anything that influences E1.”

“We may have to go there to lock it down but I was trying to avoid indirect indicators. In the long run, they’ll be just as time-consuming for other reasons.”

Faye handed back the flash drive and pulled up a chair while Janis loaded it.

“Let’s see what the Mouse gave us…”

Janis opened the file folder to find a treasure trove of sub-directories; half of them in German and half in English. At root level she found a single video file named appropriately enough –
Play Me First
. She clicked on it and the screen filled with a complex menu. She moused over one labeled
Overview
and selected it.

For the next five minutes, voice-over narration guided them through a series of animations, graphics, and charts describing the structure and function of the 2nd Protocol agent.

Faye couldn’t pull her eyes from the screen. “My God, this is everything!”

Janis hurried back to the main menu to review other options. “We’re going to need more assistants…”

Faye wondered, “Why would they put all of this together? This is more elaborate than any documentation I’ve ever seen.”

Janis shrugged. “I guess they want a private historical record. They see themselves as the saviors of mankind. Future generations will need to know all about them.”

“If that’s so, their egotism has given us all we need.”

Janis clicked on a menu item at random and advanced the video to sample it. The animation picked up in the middle of an explanation of how 2nd Protocol researchers overcame the problems of capping lifespan at age 70.

“…
while the constraint appears arbitrary and is little understood, it is a fact that human cells have a built-in limitation on the number of times they are able to divide. This is hardwired into each human by nature and is called replicative cell senescence. Baring all negative influences of environment or lifestyle, this limitation puts a maximum value on possible human lifespan. While aging in most organisms depends in part on progressive oxidative damage to macromolecules, aging in humans also progresses in proportion to changes in the structure of telomeres located at the ends of chromosomes. As the end caps degrade, telomeres shorten. After no more than 50 cell divisions, a human cell enters a nondividing state from which it never recovers. It was assumed that an increase in CKI proteins played a role in these stopping mechanisms
…”

As they listened, the lab door opened and in walked Colin Insworth.

Janis turned and noticed him with visible irritation then turned back. She stopped the video as Faye stood to intercede. She met Colin halfway.

“What is it?” asked Faye

Colin was somber. “Something’s come up. Eugene Mass is dead.”

Janis overheard and stood to join the discussion. “Mass?”

Colin held a newspaper folded in his hands. “Yes. He collapsed at the opera in
Brussels
. The police say he was poisoned but most of the media are talking about
GenLET
.”

Janis stepped closer. “What about
GenLET
?”

“There’s speculation that Mass died after trying
GenLET
on himself.”

Faye laughed. “Last week they were all saying he was selling it underground. If he was passing it around, why haven’t other people died?”

Colin looked from Faye to Janis to read reactions. “Maybe they have.”

Janis paced. “That’s ridiculous.
GenLET
is safe.”

“Safe for many but not for all? Have there been any human trials?”

Janis grew defensive. “The primates we tested carry 98% of the same DNA as humans. Computer models mapped the differences every which way…”

Faye interrupted, “The police should know from the toxicology report. If they find a known poison in his system, then
GenLET
is cleared.”

“It won’t matter,” added Janis. “They’ll put the doubt out there anyway. It’s probably what they want.”

“What do you mean?” asked Colin.

“What’s the best way to get the common people to not want
GenLET
?”

“Make them fear it; make them think it’s unsafe,” answered Faye.

“Exactly.”

Colin asked, “Wouldn’t that make the rich fear it too?”

Janis leaned back on a desk. “The rich probably already have it.”

“One thing we know for sure. What happens to it next is up to Leah, his wife. She inherits NovoSenectus.”

Faye asked, “How much do we know about her?”

“Not much other than she’s the typical socialite,” answered Colin.

Janis asked, “I wonder how she feels about 3rd Protocol.”

Faye folded her arms in thought. “I remember seeing her at
Oxford
when Mass gave his lecture. I can’t imagine the two of them so close without also being like-minded.”

Colin frowned. “You have to wonder how much she knows. I wouldn’t put it past Mass to keep her in the dark.”

Janis saw his concern. “Why do you say that?”

He unfolded the newspaper. “Intelligence services picked up some unusual behavior. It started around the time the news of Mass’ death hit the newswires.”

“What kind of behavior?”

“Financial transactions from numbered accounts, securities passed between shell corporations, all tied to a rather peculiar name –
Goodwin Godspeed Diye III.
”

“Any record of this person?” asked Faye.

“Only that he appears to be owner of an enterprise incorporated as GGD3. We assume it’s no coincidence – there’s a rash of advertisements appearing all over the world – in newspapers, on billboards, in fifteen-second spot commercials, on the web.”

“What do they say?” asked Janis.

“They all say the same thing.” Colin opened the newspaper to show them a full page display ad. The lettering was black; the symbol was green.