Trispero Page 10

  “Oh yeah, she was really tall and pretty. They seemed a bit mismatched: the nutty professor and college basketball player.”

  “Well I found out he was working on the project that I got busted for looking up today, and...., and he recently had a stroke. He’s in a nursing home, Deb!”

  “Oh my God! Nate, what’s going on?”

  “I wish I knew. I’m going to have a somewhat secret meeting with Missy tonight.”

  “Will you be home for dinner?”

  “Ya, I’m just gonna talk to her for a while around six. Should be home for dinner though.”

  Nate looked down at his cappuccino, lost in thought for a few moments. How had things gotten so crazy? He knew things were tense, but there was something about this that didn’t make any sense. Debbie was happily enjoying the last sips of her coffee with most of her pastry still sitting on her plate. Debbie knew him better than anyone and tended to be much better at figuring out people than Nate. Her insight had proven invaluable before, so he would trust in her instincts again.

  “Why don’t we talk after you meet with her tonight? You have lots of options, so you don’t owe the Gibson guys anything. If things get serious we have enough money in savings that we can get by until you find a new job. It’s not like I can’t help either.” She got up from her chair. “I need to head back to work. So we’ll talk later, okay?”

  Nate looked at her and slowly replied, “Okay.”

  Nate knew Debbie was not fulfilled working at the university hospital part time writing grants for some of the researchers, but he knew she liked not being tied down right now. She had a remarkable skill with computers, but was not ready to pursue that part of her life yet. He wasn’t sure how long this job would play out for her and knew she didn’t want to put down too many roots.

  Nate had a few hours to blow before meeting with Missy. The parking had been so bad at Zingerman’s that he was considering going home and riding his bike back to town just so he wouldn’t have to park. At this point Nate needed some time to think before he met with Missy. After going home, he didn’t even bother going inside. They lived a few blocks from the arboretum, which was a great place to walk and think. Nate had walked this route so many times he was able to let his feet do the work as his mind wandered. Occasionally he would come back to his present walk and take into account the huge trees and beautiful rolling hills.

  What was that project I was locked out of, project immune boost? That sounded strangely similar to what we are trying to do except with influenza instead of cancer. I would know about it if it had been successful. If it was unsuccessful then the information would be invaluable. So either the project is ongoing and they don’t think it’s applicable to what I am doing, or something went wrong and it being kept buried. There is too much to gain from what I am doing now to keep it a secret from me. So, what went wrong?

  Nate looked up just in time to see that he had come down to the river. He looked down at his watch. He had about thirty minutes before he needed to head back in to town if he was going to meet Missy. The step down to the river made a great place to sit. The river was low enough that he could sit on the bottom step and put his feet on some river rocks without getting wet. The sun was low enough now that the light was filtered as it came through the trees reflecting off the ripples in the water as it flowed over the rocks. It was important for a scientist to be able to sit down and occasionally be amazed at the beauty of nature, so that he could be reminded how little he really understood. He knew the process for acquiring knowledge was intimately connected to the world around him.

  Riding his bike downtown was infinitely easier for Nate then trying to park, unless it was snowing or raining. There didn’t seem to be any danger of that today. Nate locked his bike right at the corner in front of Sweetwater’s Café and looked down at his watch. He had a few minutes. Even though he loved coffee, he elected to have the ginger lemon tea instead. By 6:05, he was sitting in a corner sipping on the ginger lemon tea thinking about how Debbie had tried to get the recipe. Apparently it was a secret. Debbie had tried on repeated trips to find out to no avail. He didn’t know what Missy would be wearing, so he tried to keep an eye out at the front entrance. Through the large paned front window he caught a glimpse of a tall woman jogging up to the front of the café wearing bright green shoes, running shorts, and one of the running hoodies with the hood up and wires from her headphones running down to her front pocket. She could have been eighteen, but Nate knew it was Missy.

  Missy immediately recognized Nate. As he brought his attention toward her she looked away and waved her hand to indicate he was not to notice her. Nate seemed to understand her signal and returned to his tea. Missy often stopped here toward the end of her run for an iced tea, so she knew this would not be suspicious. She got her tea and surveyed the café. If it was full she had planned to walk back and have Nate meet her on the walk home. Fortunately, it was empty in back so she pulled up a seat in the back and grabbed a book off the shelf she could pretend to read. She walked past Nate and got his attention by pointing to the table behind hers. Nate looked a little confused but he stood up, went to the front, had his tea cup refilled, then sat at the table behind Missy’s.

  Missy spoke softly while looking into her book. “Thanks for coming. I know this seems odd, but I have a lot at stake. I have to be careful.”

  “I’m sorry for all of your troubles. I heard some of what’s happened to Randal.” Nate tried to keep his eyes forward, but it was hard to have a quiet conversation with a woman pretending to read a book.

  “What have you heard happened to Randal? I’m curious as to what they’ve told people.”

  “Julie told me that he had a stroke, he can’t talk, and he’s now at Glacier Hills.”

  “Do you want the truth of what’s going on? Because if you do, there’ll be no going back. I hate to be so cliché, but this is really your last chance. I think you know based on what’s happened so far, things are not what they seem. When Randal interviewed you he’d already done a lot of research on your background, and I don’t just mean your research. I know much more about you than you do about me. Sorry for the monologue.”

  “I’d love to say no, I don’t know what’s going on and go home, but I don’t think I can do that now.”

  “First off, Randal didn’t exactly have a stroke. He’s a victim of Gibson’s latest project with the herpes virus. I’ll talk a little more about that in a minute. Have you heard of the project immune boost?”

  “That’s what got this started this morning. I created a security alert when I accidentally came upon it. Before that, never heard of it.”

  Missy put down her book and moved over toward Nate. It was clear what she had to say couldn’t be done through whispers and it didn’t appear that there was anyone else in the café to overhear them.

  “I can’t explain it as well as Randal, but here it goes. Project immune boost was originally a receptor they isolated off of people in China who survived the initial assault of the deadly strain in the influenza breakout before our most recent disaster. It appeared to be something that stimulated T cells, similar to what you’re doing with cancer right now. The newer strains of influenza would mutate so fast they didn’t think that the standard vaccines would be enough. So as part of the vaccine, they designed a retrovirus that would insert that immune boost into the patient. The early animal studies looked great. The World Health Organization was so worried about the impending pandemic that they okayed the early trials of the vaccine. The early trials of the vaccine went very well, so it was released into general distribution. About three months before the start of the flu season that year, and before Gibson could announce that they had saved the world from the bird flu, things changed.”

  “Changed?”

  “I didn’t know any of this at the time. This is all stuff I learned before Randal’s recent medical issues. It started with the animals. None of the animals from the early trials acquired the flu, but several had c
ontracted unusual infections not typically seen in healthy mice. The so-called opportunistic infections were happening at a far greater rate than could be explained by chance alone. Randal immediately asked to pull the vaccine from distribution, much to the dismay of Gibson. He threatened to go public if Gibson didn’t concede. Gibson was furious and refused to inform anyone outside Gibson Labs as to the real reason why the vaccine had been pulled. The company line was that there was a problem with the viral strains and contamination so they had to pull the vaccine. By the time Gibson was ready to go, the flu season was over, and, fortunately for the world, Gibson was not the only company with a vaccine. Gibson Labs was left with a black eye, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

  “So, some mice got sick and they pulled the vaccine. Sounds like a bad deal but that doesn’t exactly explain today.”

  She scanned the room then leaned forward. “Only then it became clear that the immune boost was the problem. The retrovirus did exactly what it was supposed to do about 75% of the time. Unfortunately, 25% of the time it affected the T cell function in a way that the mice had impaired immune function similar to AIDS. However, it gets worse. That immune dysfunction is then incorporated into the DNA and passed down as a recessive trait. So, out of the surviving animals, 10% or so of the offspring have this immune dysfunction.”

  “What about the people who received the immunization?” he asked.

  “Good question. We don’t know exactly since we don’t have the kind of follow-up we would like given the situation. Gibson is a master at the cover-up. If you look at the incidence of combined immune dysfunction in the population over the last decade, you can extrapolate that something happened roughly a decade ago that changed things. What’s worse is that the second generation is even more severely compromised. That is, the adults often survived the infections whereas the children who were affected had problems at a much earlier age and often didn’t survive. We know the incidence is much higher because we didn’t have to wait until these kids became adults to find out they were affected. To make things even worse, if that’s possible, we believe there are children who don’t show symptoms of immune dysfunction, but are carriers of the trait at a rate we don’t know yet. So, we won’t know the true extent of what we have done for a few more decades.”

  Nate looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Missy, we have been sitting here too long, we need to move before things start looking suspicious.”

  “I’ll leave and walk along Liberty. I want to meet you over by the library,” whispered Missy.

  Missy got up and put her cup in the dirty dishes bin and left. Nate sat for a few moments then did the same, being careful to go the opposite way around the building. It was getting darker since they’d arrived, but Main Street was so well lit it didn’t matter. People were parking to have dinner, or going home, oblivious to the events of Nate’s day. He walked around the block to try to catch up with Missy.

  Nate came around the block and could see Missy waiting to cross the street. He came up behind her, pretending to send a text, and whispered to her, “Missy, I’m here just behind you.”

  “Follow me.”

  He followed Missy into the library into the periodicals section. She sat down with a magazine. Nate was close behind and sat down, once again, at the table behind her. It was close enough to closing that the library was empty.

  Nate leaned in to hear her whisper: “No texts or emails to anyone. I don’t want anything documenting this conversation. As I was saying, we don’t know how bad things are yet. The realization of this became all too apparent to Randal, who’d been tracking things as best he could for all of these years. He wanted to go public so we could find out what was really going on. Gibson, as you can imagine, was not having any of it. In fact, Gibson threatened Randal. Randal told Gibson to take a flying leap and within a week, he had his so-called stroke. The last time I visited him at Glacier Hills, he gave me this message.”

  Missy passed a small, typed “best wishes” card to Nate. Inside the card was a note that read: “We are all saddened by Randal’s mysterious stroke. He seemed so very healthy. I am hopeful that something can be done about this mysterious neurologic disorder. SILENT speculation may bring about a cure.”

  “You see, Nate, whatever happened to Randal wasn’t natural. I know for a fact that they’re using different herpes viruses to direct gene therapy for central nerve injuries. They suspect Randal may have told me what was going on, so if I play ball they may be able to fix whatever they’ve done to him. If I am silent that is. What they don’t know is that when my brother was in the Air Force he was in charge of the medical care for a special operations squadron. He had friends who moved to the intelligence community after their Air Force time. Friends who are discreet and believe me when I tell them I’m in trouble.”

  Nate scanned the room. “Are you under surveillance?”

  “I think so. I’m not certain, but I am definitely feeling paranoid. The main thing is that I’m trying to get info for my friends so I can bring down Gibson. However, I can’t jeopardize the possibility that they may be able to help Randal.”

  Nate leapt up. “Missy, quiet. Someone’s coming in.”

  “We’ve talked too long already.” She slipped him a card. “Here’s the phone number of my friend. It’s a secure number that can’t be traced. When voice mail picks up just say that you’re looking for a new vet for your dog. He’ll call you back and confirm you are who you say you are.” With that, she disappeared behind a shelf of periodicals.

  Nate sat there staring at the card until he was sure Missy was long gone. He had forgotten that he’d locked his bike over by the café, so he slowly wandered back in that direction. He was a scientist, and as such liked to keep his life as organized and predictable as possible. The other part of being a scientist was a thirst for the unknown and being able to deal with the unexpected. Nate was frightened out of his mind that his world was spinning out of control, but he was excited at the prospect of whatever lay ahead. Anytime he had conflicts like this he would talk to Debbie. Debbie was his anchor.

  Oh man, Debbie. I’m late for dinner, and she’s gonna want to kill me. Nate immediately pulled out his phone and called Debbie. She had been married to Nate for long enough to know that she needed an alternate plan for dinner when he was in a state like he was now. When Nate got fixated on things he would lose track of time. As Debbie’s mom used to say, “the things you love about your loved ones are also what drives you nuts!”

  “Hey sweetheart, I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been talking with Missy.”

  “I figured as much. I ordered pizza. It should be here any minute. Why don’t you hustle your butt home so we can eat?”

  “You’re not going to believe things.”

  “Come on home and we can talk about it.”

  Nate had difficulty getting on his bike. It took him three times to get the pedals started as his body was still shaking from the excitement. He was going to need more than a little tea to help his brain work tonight. He came down the hill and could see Debbie in the living room sitting on her feet in the big comfy chair reading a book. How could sitting in a chair reading a book possibly be so beautiful? Whatever the case, it was exactly that.

  Nate was roused from his trance by a passing car. He pulled into the driveway. After putting his bike in the garage, he went in to have pizza with Debbie. Whatever tomorrow held would have to wait. Debbie was still sitting in the chair and the pizza box was on the table unopened.

  “So you didn’t want to start without me?”

  “Nah, my book was too good to stop for food. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. How did your meeting go? Did you get your secret agent badge?”

  “No I didn’t, but I probably should have though. I met with her and I don’t really know what to think. According to her there is a conspiracy. Either we need to be very worried, she’s crazy, or I guess I could be crazy. Even if I am crazy I know Gibson
was talking about Jason.”

  “There certainly isn’t any love lost with Gibson. I think you’ve had second thoughts about working at this lab for a while. How crazy are things?”

  “Missy thinks Randal found something and Gibson hurt him to keep him quiet. I know it sounds crazy. She’s really acting like some secret agent, to the point I’m beginning to believe her.”

  “I don’t know about her, but you are the most thoughtful, trustworthy person I know. If you’re worried I guess I should be, too What are you going to do now?”

  “She has some friend who apparently is well connected and can potentially help. Right now I want some pizza. Tomorrow I will think about it.

  The tall man stood in the shadows across the street from Nate’s house. He watched as Nate parked his bike and went inside before picking up his cell phone. “Sir, yes, Dr. Gibson, Amsler is home with his wife now. Yes, you were correct. He did meet with Mrs. Lemay. I’ll give you a full debriefing when you arrive tomorrow, sir.”

  15

  SEATTLE—2014

  Jason finished speaking with the policeman on the phone. He said there was nothing he could do about a random note left in his car. Nothing was stolen, just an ominous message: “Don’t forget what is important to you, Dr. Roy.” The policeman gave him a direct number if anything else were to happen. Normally Jason’s mind was full of genetics research and Lily’s activities for the day. That was typically enough to fill anyone’s thoughts, but today Jason’s thoughts were overwhelmed with speculation about the letter. Who would have planted the letter? Whoever it was, he knew what the most important thing in the world was to him: Lily.

  Jason walked Lily to school this morning. It was the day after his TV interview and so he spoke with the principal of Lily’s school. She was going to request extra security, hoping for an extra patrol car from the city. On days when he felt like this, he enjoyed riding his bike most; burning some energy always helped his mind work more effectively. The road to the university was downhill, much harder on his brakes than his legs. Jason had seen too many bike accidents and had chosen his route to miss as much traffic as possible. The first hill down Crescent was very steep but there was very little traffic as he crossed 23rd Avenue to get to the bike route. It was after rush hour, which explained why things were quiet. He turned down the side street to the bike lane which was really just a narrow residential street with lots of roundabouts to keep traffic slow. Jason always watched for side streets and people backing out of driveways. As he pulled into the alley before crossing to the bridge, a flash of blue sprang into his peripheral vision. Jason instinctively pulled onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing the bumper of a large blue sedan. He was protected by one of the roundabout islands and turned to cross Lakeside Drive to get to the bridge. He heard an engine revving behind him so he peddled as fast as he could. Across Lakeside was a small road that led back to the bike route. An abandoned museum tagged with indistinguishable red paint was on his right. To his left was a house, and straight ahead was a street partially blocked so that only bikes could get through. I have to get through there. With the car coming up fast he pushed it until he shot through the street blocks. The street was dry, so he spun around a large bush that was between him and the museum parking lot. Thinking he had escaped, he slowed down to navigate the next turn when he heard the scraping of metal as the sedan scraped the pavement as it jumped the curb in the parking lot to the museum.