The assistant put the receiver to his ear and pushed the button. “It’s not going through,” he said, while adjusting the antenna pointed at the sky. When he switched to speakerphone, they heard a tremendous sound; he hurriedly lowered the volume.
“It’s a state-of-the-art device, but you get that sometimes. It has to receive transmissions from satellites that are like little specks flying through space and send radio waves back.” The assistant was moving the antenna around, but it wasn’t going through.
“Let me do it.” Katya pushed the assistant away and sat down in front of the satellite phone. Her face was patchy with tears and dirt. She adjusted the angle of the antenna and worked the buttons and dial with practiced hands. “It’s difficult to reach a satellite. But there’s a trick to it. It should work now.” She gave Jake the receiver.
Jake looked dubious, but he took it and pushed the button. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He winked at her, turned his back, and started talking into it.
Max went to the remains of the hut where he’d left his luggage. The hut had been burned to the ground, leaving only ash and charred support posts. All the samples they’d collected had been in there. All that remained of them was whatever samples each had packed in their backpacks.
“It’s just a lump of metal now.” Katya pulled the heat-deformed storage box out of the ashes. She hesitated to open it; it contained the blood of fifty-seven villagers.
“A rescue helicopter will come for us in three hours. Please hurry up and get ready,” Jake said. “The village has been destroyed. And a whole race has disappeared from the earth. Which is exactly what the Nazis wanted.” Jake’s voice was full of anger. Just when the sun was about to go down, they heard the whir of rotors from the south.
● ● ●
IV
* * *
THE SECRET
CHAPTER 14
By the next afternoon, Max and Katya were headed to the US from São Paulo International. Max insisted they go back right away.
As he sat in a first-class seat provided by Feldman, Max read from a newspaper he had bought in the airport. “Colombian left-wing guerrillas crossed the border and slaughtered the inhabitants of an Indigenous Brazilian village. There were no survivors.” The attack on the village had made the news, but it was treated as a minor story, to be forgotten in a few days.
“Did Feldman’s group feed that information to the press?”
“It was the Nazis that killed them. This article’s not worth reading. Feldman’s group wants the world to know Nazis are still out there, while the Nazis want everyone to think they’re gone. The government says they’ll investigate, but doesn’t say when. They’ll probably never send anyone.”
“The media were quick to believe this cover-up.”
“Nazis still have power in South America. They fed the story to higher-ups of the government and the media. The world isn’t concerned about the death of some Indigenous Amazonians.” Max folded up the newspaper and jammed it in the seat pouch in front.
“And Tania died, too . . . ,” Katya murmured.
It was evening when they touched down in San Francisco. They rented a car at the airport and headed for Allon, sixty miles east of San Francisco. The city was home to genetics labs and research branches of universities. It had become known as Gene Valley, since Silicon Valley was right next door. It was past six; and the sun was setting when they arrived at the Institute of Genetics, a research facility of the California Institute of Technology.
“There it is.” Max pointed ahead with his eyes.
A modern building stood against the sinking sun. At the center of the expansive lawn stood a DNA double helix sculpture, with a stainless steel sign reading California Institute of Technology Genetic Research Laboratory.
“It’s the country’s top genetic research facility. It’s about nine square miles, with three stories and a basement. It has twelve genetics-related laboratories, specializing in things like biochemistry and molecular biology. Two Nobel laureates and three Nobel Prize candidates work there.”
“And you’re also in the running for the prize!”
“It was built twelve years ago with what was then the latest equipment, but it’s already outdated. The usefulness of the P4-level labs has gone down, and the equipment for information processing is outdated, too. The director is trying to get it rebuilt, but I have no idea where its future’s headed.”
They stopped in front of the main entrance. Two armed guards were sitting in the security room.
“Welcome back, Professor!” said an older security guard as Max stepped outside.
As protocol demanded, Max was asked to show his ID, and the guard called human resources to confirm his identity. It took close to twenty minutes to get clearance.
“I made you a temporary ID. The PIN is the same as before. It will take three days for your assistant’s to be ready.” The security guard handed him a magnetic card. “You’re important, Professor! If anyone else had been gone for a year, it’d take them half a day to pass through. Starting next month, they’ll have a new system. You know, the one that scans your eyes.” The guard gestured as though looking through binoculars.
They drove through the grounds.
“There are always security guards at the main entrance 24/7, and also at two points in the building. Whenever somebody enters or exits the lab, they need to use their card and PIN, and it’s recorded. The alarm system’s connected to both the security room and the local police, so if something goes wrong, they’ll rush here in minutes.”
“I noticed the guards are armed. They’re much more serious than at European universities.”
“This is the center of genetic science not just in the US but in the world, and it’s a treasure trove of genes. Cells from all over the world are collected and frozen, and DNA data is also stored here. It’s sort of like the federal bank of pharmaceutical companies.”
They drove to the back of the building. There were still dozens of cars in the lot. Max parked far in the back, next to a Mercedes convertible with the top up. He took out his keys, opened the Mercedes door, and loaded his luggage. Katya, holding her backpack, looked on with suspicion.
“It’s my car,” Max said. “I’m friends with a car nut in the lab; I asked him to keep an eye on it for me, which he agreed to as long as he was allowed to drive it.”
The cafeteria was closed, but they bought sandwiches and coffee from a vending machine and headed to the lab. On the way there, ten or so researchers called out to greet Max, hoping to shake his hand. They entered the building with the card and PIN the guard gave him, and stepped into a space like a hotel lobby. At the center was a reception desk flanked by two guards.
“Assistant Professor Dr. Warren managed the lab while I was gone. I called him last night to tell him I was back. I can use the lab right away.”
Max’s room was at the back of the first floor. He inserted his card into the door’s slit.
“I’m a tenured professor here. That’s my official position. But I don’t have students. I have no obligation to teach,” Max said. “All I have to do is submit a research report twice a year. This year’s budget is $2 million. Half a million is provided by the university. The rest comes from foundations and companies. Some is donations, some is collaborative research. Tomes Foundation, the Foundation for the Promotion of Science in California, Magnifique Pharmaceuticals, Unimac Pharmaceutical Company, the list goes on. Their contributions range from ten thousand to hundreds of thousands of dollars—including contributions from Europe and Asia. Your salary also comes from that well of funding.”
The room was furnished with a large desk, with a sofa and a table in front of it. The wall on the right had built-in bookshelves. Max put his luggage down, took two lab coats out of a locker, and handed one to Katya.
“Good thing you’re the same size as me.”
“What are we going to do here, Professor?”
“We came here to do some research, didn’t
we?”
Holding the cooler box he’d taken out of his backpack, he headed for the experiment room on the same floor. The door had a sign with a strand of DNA, and Welcome to Our Lab in fancy cursive underneath. Max inserted the card and opened the door.
Katya stood still at the threshold.
“Researchers here for the first time always freeze at the door,” he smiled back at Katya.
“I’m nervous. This is one of the best genetic laboratories in the world.”
“It’s more a sacred place. The mysteries of life are unraveled here. What is a gene? What is life? What does it mean to be human? When those answers are found, there are more mysteries to solve: Why do humans exist? Where do humans come from and where are they headed? Why are humans human? The meaning behind humanity’s existence may finally be discovered.”
Max took Katya’s hand and brought her inside. Devices were lined up on shelves: carbon dioxide incubators, constant temperature incubators, optical microscopes, electron microscopes, and at the back were two benches.
“Can you use the micromanipulator?”
Katya nodded. The device, used for nucleus replacement and removal, operated extremely thin needles and pipettes while looking at the monitor of an inverted microscope. It was also used to adhere sperm to an egg during artificial insemination.
“Next door’s a P3 lab. The P4 lab is on the second floor. But experiments for 90 percent of the things I’m involved in can be done here.”
“Are you doing dangerous experiments that would need P4-level safeties?”
P4-level laboratories deal with highly contagious killer microorganisms such as the Ebola virus, the Marburg virus, and the variola virus. P4-level safeties are also necessary when unknown microorganisms might result from genetic modification.
“Nature loves and nurtures us humans, but we are always trying to step out of the pen nature placed us in. When we cross that line, we need protection. That’s our responsibility as humans—and the policy of the director, Dr. Tom Owens.”
Katya silently scanned the room. Eventually, she turned to Max: “What are you planning to do?”
“A basic experiment any student could do.”
“You said the same thing back in Germany when you showed me that hand.”
Max took the case out of the freezer box. It contained a reddish frozen scrap of flesh.
“When did you . . . ?”
“These were too good to let them return to the soil of the Amazon.”
“It’s Tania’s appendix, isn’t it?” Katya muttered.
“Tania was such an incredible little girl. So, so special. She’s Aska!”
“Her? Aska? But everyone called her Tania.”
“You saw how fast she healed. I’m sure she was Dona’s daughter.”
“But the names don’t match.”
“She was also Gehlen’s daughter. Think about it. Nazis value blood purity and claim that the German race is superior. Would he have been allowed to raise a child with the blood of an Indigenous Amazonian? She was probably given to Davi, the village chief, and ‘Vater’ is what they call whoever raises children. And in return, Davi, he . . .” Max’s scowled. The Nazis took advantage of the weaknesses of the human spirit and destroyed souls. “Aska was raised by Davi under the name Tania.”
“Why was Dona with Gehlen to begin with? Why did he take Dona as his wife?”
“There was a reason they were together.”
“What reason?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m trying to figure it out.”
“Tania was Aska. And Aska was Dona and Gehlen’s daughter —so that’s why you wanted to hurry home so fast.” Katya stared at the frozen pieces of appendix.
Max nodded, carefully placing the scraps on a glass slide and putting it under the microscope.
“Keep the rest of the cells in saline. I want to check the cell division process, the DNA, everything,” Max said, looking into the microscope.
Katya followed Max’s instructions.
“I managed to get these here just in time.” Max turned on the display screen linked to the microscope.
Dyed cells were projected on the screen. Each one was lively and vigorously pulsating.
“They’re normal cells.”
“I’d like to split these up.”
While paying close attention to sterilization, she created a culture medium and implanted the cells, after which she began detecting the DNA. Meanwhile, Max continued to silently operate the microscope.
“What’s in these cells?” she stopped to ask, disgruntled. “What are you looking for? You already know what you expect to find, why won’t you tell me? I ran myself ragged and nearly died in that village.”
Max didn’t react.
“You want me to wait? Fine! I’ll wait!” She resumed detecting the DNA.
When they finished setting all the samples, it was past one in the morning. But even that late, they heard voices in the hallway. Some of the rooms were still lit.
They went back to Max’s room.
“You look tired,” Max said, taking off his lab coat.
Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her lips were dry and chapped.
“I thought that when we got back from the Amazon, I’d at least get to go home the next day. I didn’t expect I’d go straight from the airport to the lab and start the experiment immediately.”
“A day later and the cells would’ve died.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m just surprised.”
“You can stay at my house tonight.” Max stood up with his luggage in his hand.
The Mercedes went down a quiet residential street. On both sides of the wide road, the streetlights cast long palm-tree-shaped shadows. The car stopped in front of a neatly kept home set atop a hill. They got out of the car and walked toward the house. The landscaped garden was well-lit, and Katya was drawn to the fenced-in pool.
“Is anyone here?” said Katya anxiously.
“It’s managed by a security company.”
They opened the front door into a sparsely furnished living room. A vase full of flowers was on the table, and that day’s newspaper next to it.
Katya came to a stop. “Someone’s here . . . a woman.”
Max read the card next to the vase. “Welcome home! —Nancy.”
“Are there any hotels nearby? Please call me a taxi.”
Max gave her a look. “Nancy comes two days a week to clean.”
“She’s very talented. Look how spotless everything is.”
“She likes things neat and clean. It’s a hundred times cleaner than I’d have left it.”
Max brought Katya to the guest room on the second floor before he went into his study. A pile of mail was on the desk. Once a month his secretary had sorted his mail, and sent what was important to him in Germany. The rest was here waiting for him. He communicated with most friends and business contacts by email, but some snail mail still had to be dealt with.
He sat at the desk and opened some of the letters, but he could feel his energy draining away. He’d been hit by this sinking feeling more and more often. His body would go slack, and he felt if he closed his eyes he could be pulled into a deep sleep—the kind of sleep one didn’t wake up from.
He pulled himself together and went back to the letters. An envelope caught his eye. The sender was “California Memorial Hospital.” Inside he found a copy of a medical record and a concise letter. He didn’t need to read the letter’s contents. The salient bit was: “Nothing abnormal detected.” But those three words meant that whatever was wrong was getting worse.
He sighed and rubbed between his eyes. During his stay in Germany, he hadn’t gotten any results either. There was some hope left in the Amazonian jungle, but he didn’t have much time left. He leaned on his desk and closed his eyes, and exhaustion overcame him. Dark gray clouds gathered in the back of his brain, jamming the gears of his thinking. He knew what it was, but the solution was still shrouded
in darkness.
Suddenly, tremors ran all over his body. He wrapped his arms around his torso and tried desperately to endure it, but the shaking didn’t stop. He broke out in a cold sweat, and an indescribable fear and loneliness rose up from the depths of his soul. Someone . . . anyone . . .
He stood up and staggered out of his study.
The guest room was quiet. Light from outdoors shone through the curtains, and his bed was a silhouette against it. He approached the bed. Katya had her eyes closed but wasn’t sleeping. He felt her hot breath. He clenched his trembling fists and stared at her. Unbearable emotions overflowed from deep within him. Fear, loneliness, lust. No, it was a more powerful impulse than that. He craved life itself. There was no way he could stop his emotions.
He hugged her.
“No . . . Stop . . . ,” she gasped, turning her face away from him.
Max willed strength into his arms. Katya’s body stiffened. Max began unbuttoning her pajamas. Her skin was warm and soft, her body brimming with youth. There was no doubt in his mind—it was pure life energy.
Max hugged her with all his might. Their moist, wet skin touched, and her cells, full of life force, assimilated into his body. Max’s tremors gradually disappeared, as if Katya was absorbing them.
The words slipped out of his mouth: “I’m scared . . .”
Katya’s body relaxed.
When Max came to, he had his head down on the desk in his study. Bright shafts of light were pushing through the gaps in the curtains. There was a blanket on his back, and the lights he’d never turned off himself were off. The clock on the wall said eight.
Max heard a knock and his door opened.
Max staggered as he tried to stand. The same oppressive weights were holding his body down from the inside, and he couldn’t gather the strength—the usual effect of his seizures. He couldn’t remember half of what had happened, and he was still on the border between dreams and reality. But he remembered last night.
“Good morning, Max! Welcome back!”
The Gene of Life Page 17