Trispero Read online

  “Okay, thanks,” Nate sat down and entered his information. A search screen opened. His first search was to see if there had been any gene therapy trials before Nate had started at Gibson. Pages and pages of vaccine trials starting with the HIV virus appeared. Gibson Labs started with a venture capitalist who teamed up with Gibson and a few other researchers from the University of Michigan. To this day, nobody knew how Gibson had avoided his attachment to the university but he had clearly come upon something big and separated from the university to pursue the HIV vaccine.

  The HIV project used retroviruses but not specific vectors for gene therapy. There was a tremendous amount of information about retroviruses. An hour later Nate realized he had become entranced in an article that ended up not being relevant and tried to force himself to regroup. Most of the information was on how to deactivate the virus and on the receptors for the vaccine they were experimenting with. Nate stood up and stretched for a minute. When he sat back down he noticed a footnote in the corner: “Project immune boost (PIB) reference #87.”

  Well, this is very interesting, but I think I need to move on. Nate had missed that one of the projects listed right after the HIV project involved an influenza strain. He didn’t recall there ever being anything in the news about Gibson Labs working on an influenza vaccine. There was a terrible outbreak in China and Europe sometime in 2002 from a mutant strain that resulted in a ban on air travel to several cities for almost a month while the World Health Organization figured things out. Gibson must have been involved with the flu because of the outbreak. I can’t imagine why I never heard about it.

  The file on the mutant influenza was mainly just academic info on the virus and the difficulties with creating a vaccine. Even though it wasn’t particularly helpful it was fascinating, and once again Nate found himself sucked into the exploration of influenza. Strangely enough there was very little on the actual project itself. Nate realized he had just spent another hour on influenza and was about to stand up when he noticed another footnote at the end of the influenza paper: “PIB #87.” This time, the information was highlighted in blue as a link to another project. Out of curiosity Nate clicked on the link.

  Before the page could open, a message flew across the screen flashing red from IT security: “Unauthorized access.” “Error code 4312.”

  Wow, what the heck is that? Nate tried to close the window but his terminal was locked. He got up from his chair to find the guy who was probably asleep at his terminal by now only to discover immediately behind him was a very serious-looking man in a suit staring down at him. He looked like he shopped with the Blues Brothers, but he had no sense of humor.

  The tall man in blue addressed Nate, “Dr. Amsler?”

  “Yes?” Nate tried to hide the nervous tickle in his voice.

  “We were alerted that you accessed information that is beyond your security clearance.”

  “What are you talking about? I had permission from Dr. Gibson himself to do this research.”

  The man in blue began to move into Nate’s physical space. “I don’t know anything about that. I need you to stand over here while we search your terminal.”

  What the heck? Are these guys kidding? Nate was angry, but he wasn’t stupid. He stood back while a team of IT security guys reviewed everything he had looked at for the last two hours. They hired me for this project. I didn’t come here to put up with this crap! The more Nate thought, the angrier he got. As soon as the IT guys were done, the security guy in his bad suit came over.

  “All right, sir. Everything appears to be okay. That being said, don’t ever attempt to access information you aren’t explicitly given permission to research, understood?”

  “Understood. What are you—” Nate was about to let this guy have it but thought better of it and decided to go speak with Gibson. Nate knew this was about more than his job. He could find another job. Nate was the kid who waited for the light to turn green, he was the kid who waited his turn, always. Something else was going on, and he didn’t think he would be able to let it go. Getting off the elevator outside the conference room he had been trying to avoid, he turned left toward Gibson’s office to confront him when he heard voices coming from the office through a cracked door.

  “What are you talking about? Dr. Roy has embarrassed us publicly with his interviews portraying us as evil. The bad press has already scared off some investors. This is costing us millions. This could ruin our next project.”

  “I know sir. What would you have me do?”

  “Well, we’ll have to influence him to make different choices a little more forcefully. We simply can’t afford to let him succeed.”

  Nate didn’t know who Dr. Gibson was talking to, but he knew who they were talking about: Jason, Debbie’s brother-in-law who had been married to Rachel. Waiting just outside the office ready to knock, he felt a cold sweat enveloping him and he could only think of escape. Get out of here now. He turned and was at the elevator before he heard the door open. He pushed the button to the elevator as the footsteps came around the corner from the office. How was he going to explain why he was up here? Especially after the whole security thing and yesterday’s conference. Oh man, they are almost here. I don’t want to hide in an empty auditorium. That would be a little suspicious if I were seen. The stairs, you idiot! Nate went around to the left of the elevator to the stairs. He ducked into the stairwell and dashed down the stairs at the lobby level where he ran right into the door. Oh crap, I need my badge to get out of the stairs. He fumbled for a few minutes until he found his badge and opened the door out into the lobby.

  “Hey, Dr. Amsler.”

  The elevator had arrived just as Nate exited. Gibson had seen him coming out of the stairwell.

  “Hello, Dr. Gibson,” Nate said, trying to gain his composure.

  “What on earth are you doing over here this morning, or almost afternoon I guess?”

  “I was down in the library doing some research for a different vector. You signed off on my request yesterday after the meeting, sir.”

  “I apologize. I guess I did. Well then, carry on I suppose.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  Nate walked out across the parking lot toward his building, and Gibson walked to his limo with Henry Geller at his side. He thought Geller must have been the other voice he heard so he circled behind a car to try to hear them.

  Geller spoke anxiously to Gibson. “We need to hurry or we’ll be late for our flight to Seattle, sir.”

  “It’s my plane,” Gibson answered. “I think they’ll wait for us. Don’t worry, we will be there in plenty of time for your interview with our friend Dr. Roy tonight. Did you notice that Amsler seemed a little nervous? It didn’t seem like he should have been sweating and so out of breath from coming up one floor from the library. Remind me to have security check it out when we get back.”

  Nate made it to his lab uneventfully. People were having lunch, so things were quiet. Fortunately, his ID card still worked. Part of him was thinking everything would be shut down at this point. The lab was empty except for Julie, his senior assistant, who was sitting at a terminal eating a power bar while she scrolled through different spreadsheets. Julie was a hard worker and rarely took lunch breaks, something Nate was thankful for today.

  “Julie, how long have you been here at Gibson Labs?”

  “Gosh, seven years or so I guess. Started here right after I finished my post doctorate. How was the research?”

  “Oh that, yeah well, that’s why I was asking you. I ran into some weird stuff. I didn’t realize Gibson was working on a flu vaccine.”

  “I remember that, but it was before my time. It was very short lived. I only know about it because my first work here was with Randal, before he retired.”

  “Randal Lemay? He hired me. I was wondering what happened to him. He and I worked together on a few projects before I was hired here.”

  “He was one of the original scientists brought on board when Gibson Labs was started. H
e apparently was the retrovirus specialist who was Gibson’s right hand man on the HIV vaccine.”

  “Then why would he have anything to do with the flu project? What did you work with him on?”

  “He was brilliant,” Julie answered. “I’m sure he had some role in that just because he’s a frickin’ genius. He and I worked together on a project looking at some of the receptors on the herpes virus for use in immunotherapy for people with nerve injuries. Since the herpes virus lives in peripheral nerves, it was a reasonable choice to start there.”

  Nate suddenly felt the need to move and began to pace across the room. “Wow, I had no idea you or Gibson Labs was involved with that.”

  “Yeah, that was a great project. It’s still underway, but our portion is completed. Gibson keeps the projects very separate, I think, for security reasons. That’s why you don’t know much about these other projects.”

  “What happened to Randal, Julie?”

  “He had a stroke right before you started. It was weird. He didn’t have any history of problems and all of a sudden, bam. He lives at Glacier Hills, the nursing home, now. He can barely speak, and his right side doesn’t work very well. A terrible shame, not just because it was bad for him, but like I said he was brilliant. He was one of the few people around here who had his hand in several different projects.”

  “Have you seen him since his stroke?”

  “Just once. He remembered me, but he certainly wasn’t himself. His wife, Missy, is with him almost every day. I have talked to her a few times. They didn’t have any kids, so it’s just the two of them.”

  “Thanks Julie. I’ve got a few more things to work on. How are things looking here?”

  “Good question. We are making more progress. We have a few more mice with rhabdomyosarcoma, once again; none of them have spread. I think we have isolated the oncogene as well.”

  “Good deal. I know we have a lot to get done here, but I was hoping to talk with Randal’s wife about some of the papers I looked into this morning. Do you know where they live or do you have a phone number? I can’t really just go to talk with Randal.”

  “I don’t have a phone number, but I suspect you might be able to catch Missy at home if she isn’t with him. Last I recall they lived over on Green Road. I can pull up his old address on our internal server.”

  Julie turned from Nate and typed a few commands into the computer,. “Okay, here it is: 4517 Green Road. Good luck, Nate. Will I see you this afternoon?”

  “Not sure yet. I’ll call you though.”

  Nate left the building and immediately pulled up a search for Randal Lemay’s address on his phone. Green Road. That’s right on the way home. For better or worse I have to see what’s going on.

  Green Road. Missy and Randal Lemay. Nate knew Randal was no longer there, but he couldn’t just show up at Glacier Hills wanting to talk to him. He wasn’t sure Missy would want to talk with him either, but at this point he had to take the chance. He had met her once at a dinner when they were first trying to recruit him a few years ago, but as Julie mentioned earlier, they really kept people on different projects separated. He had left her a message, so he wasn’t sure she would be home. Nate turned off of Huron Parkway onto Green Road and after driving up and down twice, he couldn’t find anything close to the street number. He thought he knew where it was so he finally gave up and fed the coordinates into his GPS map program.

  No wonder I missed it. The sign displaying “4517” was attached to a small pole; both were hidden behind an over-sized bush. He did an illegal U-turn and pulled down the private drive that started as asphalt and turned to dirt as he came up to a gate. Not a gate that you would find at a Beverly Hills mansion, but more like a low gate that you would move out of the way to get the horses out of your ranch. Nate wasn’t sure what to do. There was no phone or intercom at the gate to see if it was okay to enter. There was a mailbox so the mailman didn’t have to go through the gate. It seemed bizarre to have something like this right in the middle of town, but here it was. Nate looked around, and although he knew there were several neighborhoods within a block you really couldn’t see any other houses through the trees. It might be very different in the fall when the leaves were gone. Just on the other side of the fence was a small field, not big enough to host a football game but certainly big enough to throw a Frisbee around. The road continued on the other side of the fence and led up to a small colonial style house with white pillars that spanned the front entrance. It wasn’t huge or ornate, just nice. The brick siding—dark red and well-kept—extended into a small chimney that ran up the left side of the house. The gate was clearly not locked and there were no cars coming so Nate got out of his car to try to decide what to do.

  He walked over to examine the gate and pulled out his phone to try to call again. Before he could punch in the number, he saw Missy walking toward him wearing a light blue dress. He had forgotten how tall she was. Her dark, shoulder length hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His memory of her was a bright smile with perfect teeth and just a few wrinkles around her eyes. Even though she was probably almost sixty you would never know that. Today there was no smile, but only a sharp stare. Her index finger was motioning him to put down his phone. He looked at his phone like it was some mysterious object he had forgotten was in his hand. He quickly put it in his pocket and looked up to see that she was motioning him to come with her. My day just keeps getting weirder.

  Nate carefully stepped over the gate and walked over to her. She was motioning him toward her but had her hand on her hip and looked like she was going to kill him. He was only about a foot away from her when she spoke.

  “Hey, Nate. I’m going to pretend to yell at you and call the police. I will be going on a run and stopping for a tea break at Sweet Waters Café behind Main Street about 6 o’clock tonight.”

  Nate looked at her with as much confusion as he could muster in an otherwise bizarre day. He looked around half expecting someone with a hidden camera to pop out from the trees and start laughing about the prank they had just pulled.

  “What are you here for?” screamed Missy. The volume of her voice pulled Nate back from his daydream.

  “Isn’t it enough that he gave his life to your stupid company? Why would you want to bother me now? I am going to call the police if you aren’t out of here in ten seconds.”

  Nate wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he knew better than to stick around with a hysterical woman yelling at him that she was going to call the police. He decided to make a quick exit, but before he could turn to leave, Missy winked at him discreetly. What the heck? Nate jumped over the fence and backed his car around so he could pull down the driveway. What had seemed like a really long private road was really just a long driveway. Before he knew it he was back on the parkway heading home. Things were so strange he called Debbie.

  “Hey, sweetheart, can you meet for a late lunch over at Zingermans? I need to talk to my favorite counselor—it’s been a weird day.”

  “Sure, I’m just over at the grocery store. I can meet you there in about thirty minutes. What’s up?”

  “That’s a really good question.”

  14

  ANN ARBOR—2014

  As usual, finding a parking place during the day at Zingerman’s took longer than the drive itself. Zingerman’s was a true Ann Arbor landmark, the only deli that Nate was aware of that caused people to take a job at the university just so they could eat there. He ended up parking on the street about a block away. Zingerman’s had started in a small brick building from the early twentieth century on the corner; now it encompassed several buildings all over the block, including a bakery and coffee shop. It was long enough after the lunch rush that there wasn’t much of a line, and Debbie was already at the bread counter eyeing some farm bread. The smells from the deli counter to his left almost made Nate forget about his day, but not quite.

  “Debbie, hey, how ya doin’ love?”

  “Good. Didn’t see ya come in.
”

  “How’s your day been so far?”

  “I’ve just been working on some stuff at home. Will go in this afternoon. I need to work on editing some paperwork.”

  Nate knew she was working at a job well beneath her abilities and felt a wave of emotion flow over him at the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant woman was doing this for him. Nate could sense he was staring at her and didn’t want to worry her so he decided to speak quickly to put her at ease.

  “Can we just head next door, maybe something light with coffee? I don’t really want a large sandwich even though it smells amazing.”

  “Of course.”

  Nate led the way out of the deli into the connected café next door. On a weekend, the line would be around the block and there would be no place to sit. Today, after the lunch rush, it was still busy, but there were no long lines and there were some quiet places to sit. After ordering coffee and pastries, Nate and Debbie went upstairs to the extra seating for a quiet place to talk.

  “Tell me already, big man, what’s so special that I get a date with you today?”

  Nate looked around before replying. “It was so strange. I was doing research today and came across an article that I should have had access to but instead, it sent off every alarm known to man.”

  “That’s bizarre. What happened?”

  “Well, that’s really why I wanted to talk with you. I was so pissed off I marched up to Gibson’s office to give him a piece of my mind when I heard him talking with one of his flunkies about a scientist that was making them angry. They were planning to do something.”

  “I realize that sounds bad, but what does it have to do with you?”

  “It’s Jason. I know it is. After what happened today, I don’t trust these guys.”

  Debbie’s head was down as she held her hands to her temples. “Man, Nate, not Jason. He has already been through so much with Rachel’s death. I miss her, too. I can’t imagine.”

  “I know it has to be him. Oh, and I forgot, the guy that helped hire me. I don’t know if you remember, but we had dinner with him and his wife, Missy.”