Chapter Fifty
Tom said, “That’s Minot up ahead.”
Genevieve joked, “That black smudge in the distance? How can you tell?”
Everywhere they went, everything was surrounded by a belt of trees that slowly emerged from the distance. It was hard to tell if they were looking at trees, a low thunderstorm rolling in, or even the Rocky Mountains. They weren’t close enough to the mountains to see them.
Their flight had been diverted to Fargo after it became apparent that Minot was in for a devastating blizzard. Tom had hired a car and led them, arrow-like, from Fargo up to Grand Forks, then along an endless stretch of Highway 2 toward Minot. The most excitement they had was stopping for gas, and trying to figure out whether they would run out of it before they hit the next open station.
Tom put on the blinker. Out of nowhere, the rail yard had appeared outside the edge of town. He pulled up into Main Street, before finally stopping in the front of a local camping and sporting goods store. Because of the storm, it was already open, despite being just after seven a.m. People were already trying to grab survival supplies in case the weather reports being bandied about were even close to accurate.
He opened the door and stepped out of the rental car, an inconspicuous silver Ford Explorer.
The gray sky turned to pitch darkness on the horizon, where angry clouds approached.
Genevieve turned to him and said, “Let’s get the supplies. We have lots of work to do before that storm hits!”
Chapter Fifty-One
Wolfgang Research and Development Lab, Minot
The blizzard hit with speed and ferocity.
Ben recalled the evil looking, dark clouds he’d seen on their way over as the wind howled and whipped at the building’s roof high above. He held his breath, wondering whether or not the building could take it. Sam sat opposite them with a mug of coffee.
Aliana applied the tourniquet to his right arm.
It seemed a lifetime ago since he first donated blood at George Washington Hospital – where all his problems had started. In fact, that was where his old life had ended and a new one commenced. He’d lost his career, the few acquaintances he might have accepted as friends, and his freedom, but hey, he’d met a few genuinely good people who had restored his faith in mankind. So, it wasn’t all bad.
There was a loud bang as a tree fell on the roof. Aliana didn’t flinch.
He asked, “Do you think the building will hold?”
Aliana smiled, revealing a nice set of teeth and a kindness he hadn’t recognized before. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. I’ve survived being wrongfully imprisoned by the FBI, jumping from a helicopter shot out of the sky by my own government, a white-water rafting trip two months before the river was meant to be ridden, some drug dealers, and a whole lot of icy cold weather – so, no I’m not kidding you – I want to know, was it all for nothing because I’m about to get killed in some freak storm in North Dakota!”
She inserted the needle and started drawing blood, without breaking stride. “This building wasn’t purpose built for our needs. Do you want to take a guess what its original intended purpose was?”
“No.”
Sam said, “See, Aliana, it’s like I said, he’s no fun at all.”
Ben, adequately placated said, “What was this building originally meant to be used for?”
“Storage.”
“Of what?”
Aliana tilted her head slightly and grinned. “That’s the right question.”
“And the answer is?”
“ICBMs.”
Ben’s felt something large squash his chest. “Intercontinental ballistic missiles!”
“That’s right,” she replied calmly.
“We’re sitting in a nuclear missile silo? Isn’t that dangerous? Nuclear radiation or something?”
“No. ICBMs don’t actually leak radiation. Besides, this one was built late during the Cold War and never put into active duty.”
Ben looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You’re saying Uncle Sam spent a fortune to build this place… and never used it?”
“Technically, we spent a fortune on all the nuclear silos during the Cold War and never put any of them to use. But yes, Uncle Sam paid for it, and then we got to pick it up for a song. And now you’re reaping the benefits of being inside the most secure building in Minot!”
“That’s great. How long do you think the blizzard will rage?”
“They’re saying it could be days, but I think they’re wrong.”
Ben’s lips curled into a half grin. “You think the meteorologists are wrong?”
“Yep. It’s like the old saying, ‘weathermen and fools predict the weather’. In this, I’m betting on the fool. And why shouldn’t I? I’ve lived here long enough to know when a storm front is moving too quickly to stay around.”
“You think it will be quick?”
“Few hours at most,” she replied without hesitation.
Aliana released the tourniquet and pulled out the needle. She’d withdrawn a hundred milliliters of blood into a bottle. She pressed down with her thumb hard enough that it hurt at the puncture site, and then said, “Hold this for about five minutes if you don’t want to keep bleeding.”
“Okay, thanks.” Ben eyed the bottle of blood. It seemed like a lot. “Got enough?”
Aliana smiled. “Yeah. I wanted to get extra so that I don’t have to keep poking and prodding you. One needle. Lots of blood. No repeats.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Ben looked at her and asked, “Now what?”
“Now I’ll run some tests while the storm rages on outside.”
“What will that entail?”
“For the most part, I’ll feed the various samples into a machine that will give me very specific answers in the format of ‘yes you have something’ or ‘no you don’t’. But I’ll also put a sample under the microscope and go back to basics – see if I can spot anything unusual.”
“You can do that?” Ben opened his mouth to speak and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, what I meant to say was, people still do that sort of stuff? I thought computers spat out the readings?”
Aliana wasn’t offended by his surprise. “For the most part, that’s what I do. Did I mention I’m a leading geneticist? To answer your question, yes, I can look through a microscope and tell you if something’s wrong – or at least different.”
Sam finished his mug. He washed it in the little kitchenette and dried it with a towel, before putting it back in the cupboard. He turned to Aliana. “Don’t keep us waiting. I’ll bet you a romantic vacation with a guy you sometimes can stand that you’ll have an answer for us two minutes after you glance at his blood.”
She smiled at that. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it doesn’t quite work like that.”
“I think it does. Whatever the magic marker is that his blood contains, it was revealed almost immediately when Ben tried to donate blood. So, my guess is that you’ll spot it that fast too.”
“All right, but I want a trip somewhere nice and warm, like the Caribbean or Pacific Islands.”
Sam said, “Agreed.”
Aliana used another drawing-up needle to pull a small sample of blood from the bottle and placed it on a microscope slide. She then placed the slide on the high-powered microscope. “I hope you’ve got your stopwatch ticking.”
Sam glanced at the clock. It was 8:20 a.m.
Aliana brought her eye up to the microscope lens, stared at the sample and then a moment later, she pushed it away again.
“I don’t believe it…” she said.
“What?” Sam and Ben replied in unison.
She swallowed. “I know exactly why you were taken prisoner.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sam rolled his eyes. “I thought you were fast, but how could you possibly know what’s going on that quickly?”
Aliana sighed. “Because two days ago, I was given the identical blood sample, and asked if there was any
possible way I could reproduce it.”
“Come again?”
“A good friend of mine mailed it to me. She said that she’d stolen the blood after discovering the anomaly in a routine prisoner.”
“Did she say why the man was a prisoner?” Ben asked.
Aliana shook her head. “No. When I asked that, she told me that prisoners had the right to blood tests as much as anyone else. It wasn’t for her to go snooping into what they had done wrong to end up in prison in the first place.”
Sam said, “Sure, but it’s still pretty unethical. I mean, surely someone has the right to their own blood, and you can’t just go around replicating it, can you?”
“Of course. That’s what I told my friend once I found out. Naturally she agreed it was highly unethical, but given the anomaly, she thought it was worth breaking the law. This might just be the only case in human history.”
“What was the anomaly?” Ben asked, his face crunched up in a mixture of fear and fascination.
Aliana exhaled. “Your telomeres don’t shorten and yet you’re still perfectly healthy.”
Ben nodded. “Right, so what does that mean?”
“It means you’ve won the genetic lottery big time. Your blood is the Holy Grail. You’re simultaneously the most valuable man alive and the most dangerous.”
“Come again?” Ben asked. “Why me? What is it about me that is so valuable?”
Aliana explained what is known about telomeres, and what is still theoretical. She pointed out that not only could his genetic makeup point the way to much longer lives, but might also hold the key to preventing cancer.
Ben shrugged. “Why does this make me public enemy number one to the Department of Defense?”
“You’re dangerous,” Aliana insisted. “Not just because people like your genetics for its commercial value or because the government might try to hold back developments from the rest of humanity, but because if they don’t hold back those improvements, in a couple of generations our current overpopulation problems might look like child’s play.”
“Really?”
“As the telomere caps shorten, they trigger the exponential process of cellular breakdown. Have you ever wondered why old people seem to be doing just fine one day, and then in a matter of years, everything starts to go bad – they have a fall, they fracture a hip, discover they have osteoporosis, and heart disease?”
“Not really,” Ben replied, honestly.
Aliana ignored him and continued. “There’s a trial in mice currently in which scientists have worked out how to remove the part of DNA that triggers this exponential telomere shortening. It’s early days yet, but so far, they’re reporting a forty percent increase in mice longevity.”
“They’re living longer?”
“Forty percent longer. Just imagine that in human trials.”
Ben smiled. “My day just keeps on getting better.”
Aliana said, “You bet it is. Do you have any idea how much time, money, and resources scientists and drug companies have spent in an attempt to unlock the secrets to lengthening telomeres?”
“I’m starting to see,” Ben admitted.
“Think about it. It’s the Holy Grail of human existence. Who wouldn’t want to live longer, healthier, more successful lives? But in your case, we’re not just talking about reducing the speeding up process, we’re stopping it altogether.”
“What are you saying? I’m immortal?”
“No. Technically, you’re probably somewhere in the realm of a-mortal, meaning that you can die like the rest of us if you get hit by a bus or do something really stupid.” Her eyes drifted toward Sam for a moment. “But every day age-related killers – heart disease, stroke, cancer – won’t ever touch you.”
Ben took a deep breath. “So, commercially, are you saying you can reverse engineer my blood to produce some sort of elixir of the gods that will make people live forever?”
Aliana nodded. “In theory. But that sort of research might take years to achieve. There are so many hurdles and areas that we just have no idea how it would work.”
“Why? Can’t you just extract whatever enzyme is in my blood and inject it into someone else?”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. There are limitations to stopping the clock.”
“Like what?”
She closed her eyes, thought about it for a second. “Like Scott Kelly.”
“Who?”
“He was an American astronaut with NASA.”
Ben said, “Go on.”
“He’s an identical twin who spent 340 days in space on board the International Space Station. When he came back to Earth, they discovered that seven percent of his genes no longer matched his brother’s. Space, so it would seem, alters people on a genetic level.” Aliana met his eye, seeing that he was following. “Scientists discovered that Scott's telomeres – the caps at the end of chromosomes that shorten with age – stretched in space, suggesting a possible protection against ageing. It was the equivalent of turning back the internal clock by nearly two decades compared to his Earth-bound twin.”
“Astronauts are effectively stopping their internal clock?” Sam asked.
“That’s what everyone thought, but within two days of getting back to Earth, Scott’s telomeres returned to their original length. Basically, what we see with everyone is that no matter what we do to adjust telomere length, they eventually shorten – this time faster than before.”
Sam said, “Okay, so that answers the question about how they discovered Ben’s unique genetic background. I just don’t know why they consider him such a threat.”
“I do,” Aliana replied. “Of course, it’s just a theory.”
Sam said, “Okay, let’s hear it.”
“You said before that you believed Ben shares the genetic makeup of the ancient race that you’ve called Master Builders?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. He has purple eyes, an eidetic memory, and lightning fast reflexes. All traits we’ve seen or heard about in other Master Builders.”
“I thought no one had proven they ever existed?” Aliana asked.
Sam wasn’t going to tell her that he had long suspected that Elise was descended from the Master Builders. “We haven’t. It’s still a theory, albeit a pretty strong one. I don’t see them as being a different race. After all, they’re almost certainly Homo sapiens. The difference is they have a series of genetic mutations. One being, by the sound of things, the fact that their telomeres don’t shorten, meaning they live extraordinary healthy and long lives. In fact, I believe wholeheartedly that this is the reason they were able to achieve so many great feats. Imagine what you could learn and what you could do, with two lifetimes of experiences, let alone five or more?”
Ben said, “One thing I don’t get. If your theory holds true, why aren’t we the dominant strain? I mean, isn’t that how evolution is supposed to work? If one mutation helps a lineage survive, it carries on further, and so forth?”
“I can answer that,” Aliana said.
“Okay, how?”
“When I ran tests among your earlier blood samples I discovered that you have a much lower fertility rate.”
Ben’s face reddened. “What? I’m infertile?”
“No, you’re just not as fertile as the next person. But that’s okay. Think about it. If you’re going to live to be a hundred and fifty, on average, then it’s not as vital to pop out kids as it is for us. Replacement fertility rates are 2.1 children per human reproductive pair, at an average lifespan of 71.66 years, globally speaking. You’d need half as many children, just due to the fact that you’re going to live twice as long. Only, in your case, you might live five or ten times as long. I have no idea.”
They discussed the various theories throughout the storm, bandying around ideas about where to go from here and what to do, and whether or not such a genetic mutation was a blessing or a curse to humanity.
Sam discussed the labyrinth in Bolshoi Zayatsky, Russia, and that
he was still waiting to hear from Tom and Genevieve about what they found there because his cell phone had died, and now Tom’s phone was out of area – or perhaps, the blizzard had damaged the cellphone towers.
In the end, Sam pulled up a couch, and caught up on some much needed rest.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Minot – 5:30 p.m.
The storm ceased as fast as it had erupted.
The clouds had been washed away, revealing a sky that was a hundred different shades of red, pink, blue, and deep purple. The streetlights glittered in the dusk like diamonds, catching the hard-frozen crystals on the snow.
Special Agent Ryan Devereaux breathed heavily.
This was it. He had found out that Sam and Ben were with Aliana Wolfgang at her research lab just before the blizzard took effect. He had wanted to race in and capture Ben before the storm, but it was too risky. If anything should have happened, it would have been too easy for Ben to disappear in the storm.
No, he’d made the right decision.
Now everything was set up. The blizzard had done most of the work for him, making sure to contain everything.
The Wolfgang Research and Development Lab was positioned on the u-shaped bend of the Souris River between 3rd Avenue NW and Sixth Street NW. His team had blocked off 3rd Avenue, effectively trapping them within the u-shaped bend. The river was frozen, so it could theoretically be crossed, but being in the open it was easy to guard, and with the sudden rise in water level due to the blizzard, it had made the entire river unstable and nearly impassable. This left the bridge on 3rd and 6th as the only means of escape.
Both bridges now had snow plows parked on them, making it impossible for anyone to pass.
Devereaux had no doubt his SWAT team would go in and capture him, but it was nice to know Ben was confined, even if he did slip out of the building.
He put on his flak jacket.
“All right, on my count, we storm the building…”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Sam picked up the landline in Aliana’s office and called Elise.
Elise said, “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get through to you for hours!”
The Holy Grail (Sam Reilly Book 13) Page 18