Gardener: The Roots Of Ancient Evil

by Jacob Mesmer

  “I will!”

  “So while those are spinning, you need my help synthesizing these?” Peter asked.

  “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t,” Viviana answered without looking up. “This is really delicate, and I can’t mess up. When I put them in the mass spec, they have to be at the precise ratio,” she explained.

  Peter had only been working here for two days, and she was ready to kill him. He was competent, but unfortunately a lot of the work she had him doing was intensive in the setup, but once the procedure started, there was plenty of downtime. And he was not the type who would just sit and wait the ten minutes it took the centrifuge to complete the spinning process.

  “Once you get all the equipment in, what do you think you’ll be focused on the most?” he asked. “I know you’re initially set up to research genetically based lifespan-lengthening procedures, but I also think there’s an opportunity to do a lot of cancer research. There’s sufficient evidence to support the theory that cancer is genetic, and if you can solve it, you can make a pretty big name for yourself,” he said, either not taking the hint or choosing not to.

  “That’s correct,” she said, concentrating on her two hands and the pipette mechanism with intense focus. A tenth of a milliliter mistake either way would ruin three hours of work. Didn’t he get that?

  “Personally, I like Dr. Takahashi’s theory that it’s a combination of genetic predisposition and environmental factors, which means it might require a two-pronged therapy, both genetic and more of a traditional pharmacological type,” he said, crossing his arms.

  She didn’t respond. Just continued working. She had a small stopwatch that she could observe without moving her head. He stood there for a full three minutes after the centrifuge stopped spinning. Finally he went back to process the samples, allowing her to work in peace. She worked the rest of the day with only a few interruptions after she started giving him tasks to do that she really didn’t need done, but that had very little downtime. That would at least keep him out of her hair. When she had a spare moment, she gave Bradley a call.

  “You got a minute?”

  “Yep, you want me to come down?”

  “No, I’ll come up.”

  “I’m going to kill that guy,” she said as soon as she walked into his office. She didn’t sit, only stood in front of his desk with her arms crossed.

  “That bad?” he asked.

  She glared and nodded.

  “Can you have him do something off site? Document research at the university or something?” Bradley asked.

  “You know what I’d like to do,” she said, knowing full well she couldn’t.

  “His uncle gave us seventy-five mil, Viv. That kind of money you have to put up with a lot of crap, you knew that when I hired you. I made sure you understood that,”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blame you. I just needed to complain to somebody. But I like the offsite research idea. I’ll think of something that might take him a couple years to complete,” she said, finally grinning.

  Bradley laughed as she walked out and back downstairs. As soon as she went into the lab, she saw him looking over her workspace carefully. Like he was inspecting it or—a thought suddenly occurred to her. A particularly troubling one.

  “So, uh, Peter,” she began, “how often do you see your uncle?” she asked.

  “Oh, not much,” he answered, looking up quickly at the question.

  “Is he your mom’s or dad’s brother?” she asked.

  “Huh? Oh, um, my mom’s,” he said. With just a little bit too much hesitation.

  “Yeah, I have an uncle on my mom’s side, but not my dad’s side. He ever come over for Thanksgiving?” she asked. “My uncle rarely does. He and Mom kind of had a falling out a ways back,” she said, creating a fictional family history on the spot.

  “Uh, yeah, sometimes,” he answered.

  “Do you guys ever get in big fights? My family always does. I hate it,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding and grinning, “all the time,” he said.

  She didn’t believe a word of it. Which meant that seventy-five-million-dollar investor that popped in out of nowhere wasn’t related to this guy. She didn’t have the heart to tell Bradley that he may have to turn away that seventy-five mil. She was pretty sure some of it they’d already spent, agreeing in principal to a five-million-dollar deposit on a new synthesizer that would be built to their specifications over the next six months.

  Twenty Nine

  “Is this really safe to eat?” Marco asked, his fork halfway to his mouth.

  Viviana smiled and looked Tommy. “Well, I didn’t die, and it actually tasted pretty good last time,” she said and then flashed a heart-melting smile at Tommy.

  “Dude, I worked in a restaurant and I was supervised cooking this by a chemist,” Tommy replied to Marco with absolutely seriousness.

  “Dude,” Marco said, shaking his head and finally eating what was on his fork. “Even I know a chemist and a genetic, whatever, are miles apart,” he replied solemnly.

  “Point taken, but with my vast experience in the food service industry, I should expect a little bit more faith from you,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You guys are weird,” Viviana said, laughing. “Do you always talk to each other like this?”

  “Like what?” Marco asked. “This is pretty good, though,” he finally admitted. Tommy and Viviana were drinking red wine, while Marco was drinking Heineken, which he brought over, explaining that he was allergic to any alcohol that wasn’t carbonated.

  “So what have you guys found out, anything interesting?” Viviana asked after a few minutes of silent eating.

  “Not much, except that Prieto’s supervillain is building a world-class garden. He’s got some guy that built a garden for some castle in Europe. I looked it up; it’s one of the top ten in the world. He also said the soil is pretty good, for flowers I guess,” Marco explained.

  Tommy shook his head. “Maybe that’s just a cover for something a lot worse,” Tommy said finally. “I mean a lot of rich people have set up charities and stuff to take the focus off their real business,” he suggested.

  “Maybe he’s going to use his wealth and power to change the marijuana laws and start growing some top-notch skunk,” Marco said.

  Viviana rolled her eyes. “You guys better be careful, this could be some ancient rivalry that you’re getting in the middle of,” she cautioned.

  “Like that samurai movie?” Marco asked. Viviana looked him with her eyebrows raised in confusion, and slowly shook her head.

  “One of Kurosawa’s best. Samurai rolls into town, finds two rival families fighting over control over the place, and cleans up. He played both sides against each other,” he said.

  “‘Get three coffins ready. My mistake, four coffins,’” Tommy said immediately, reciting a famous line from the Sergio Leone remake.

  “You guys know this is real life, right? You’re not in a movie?” Viviana said.

  “Don’t worry, Prieto’s guy told me to just take it super slow and see what comes up. Even though Prieto is paying us a lot, to him, our yearly salary is probably what he makes in a couple seconds trading pork bellies,” Tommy joked. “How’s the genetic research coming along?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Viviana sighed. “We got this huge investor, seventy-five million. But the only stipulation was that we hire his nephew who just graduated,” she explained.

  Tommy could already tell what was coming. “Nepotism never works out,” he said.

  “He’s standing around, looking over my shoulder, but I think he’s not who he says he is,” she said.

  “What do you mean, like in Invasion of the Body Snatchers?” Marco asked.

  “No,” Viviana said, trying not to laugh. “But that would be funny, pod people in a genetics lab,” she added, playing along.

  “You mean he’s not qualified?” Tommy asked.

  “No, I
mean he is, but I started asking questions about his uncle, the investor, and his answers seemed”—she paused—“fake.”

  “Oh shit, man, that guy’s a spy,” Marco said.

  “What do you mean?” Viviana asked.

  “I mean like corporate espionage. That stuff is huge, especially pre-patent research,” he said, mostly to Tommy, who nodded.

  “Seriously? Should I be worried?” Viviana asked.

  “Unfortunately, he’s right. That’s one of the things that has changed a lot in recent years, patent laws,” he explained.

  “How do you mean? We aren’t even close to getting a patent on anything yet, probably not for at least another couple years,” Viviana said. She’d suspected he was some kind of plant, but wasn’t quite sure why.

  “Well, before about five years ago, to be the person who would legally own the patent, all you had to do was prove that you thought of the idea first. I mean that’s what they would do in court if anybody was suing anybody else,” Tommy explained.

  “That’s not the way they do it now?” she asked.

  Tommy shook his head. “Not anymore, at least in certain industries. Whoever files the patent first is the one who owns it,” Tommy explained.

  “So if he steals any of our ideas, and his rich uncle, or whoever he really is, files before we do, they get the patent, even though we did all the research?” she asked, clearly shocked. Both Tommy and Marco nodded.

  “It’s really become cutthroat. And get this: there are some diseases that are actually owned by corporations. It hasn’t gone this far, but some privacy groups are worried that people who have any kind of disease might legally belong to the corporations that hold the patent on the disease,” Marco said.

  “Yeah, I remember we took a class on genetic ethics, and they covered that. If you had some kind of genetic mutation that could cure cancer, does the government have the right to force you to let them use you to create enough cure for everybody,” she said.

  “If you want, I have, uh, that PI guy,” Tommy said, hoping that mentioning him wouldn’t create any unexpected sadness, “doing both that other thing and looking into Shea. I could have him look into your rich uncle as well, if you want,” he said.

  She paused, nodding her understanding. “I think I’d better talk to Bradley. I don’t know if we can do anything, since we’ve sort of spent the money already,” she said.

  “Let me get this out of the way before it gets weird,” Marco said. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your sister. That shit is really messed up,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling.

  “Is he getting close to finding anything out?” Marco asked Tommy. “Is it OK to ask that?” he quickly added, looking at Viviana, who nodded.

  “Guy said that he’s getting close, but it’s still pretty convoluted. He suspects it might be some kind of, um, serial killer,” he said and put his hand on Viviana’s.

  “So once you find anything out,” Marco started, leaving it hanging.

  “We’ll just turn everything over to the authorities, that’s pretty much all we can do,” she said. Marco nodded.

  “But the most important question,” she said, standing and going to the kitchen, “is what kind of ice cream do you guys want?”

  “Chocolate,” Tommy said.

  “Do you have Rocky Road?” Marco asked.

  “Dude,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “We’ll both have chocolate,” Tommy said, reaching across the table and playfully swatting Marco on the head.

  Thirty

  “Well, Mr. Kirkland, if your investor would like to pursue this, I’m certain we could easily work out the details,” Dr. Molina said.

  Max was sitting in her office at Harvard University School of Genetic Research.

  “As I mentioned earlier, we are still in the preliminary stages of building our laboratory, and as such we are only seeking out potential options at this point. But this does sound like something he would be very interested in. He is very keen on securing as many patents as he can in the area of cancer research and any other genetic therapies,” Max repeated. “But I must ask that you keep this in extreme confidence,” he added.

  She nodded. “Why of course, Mr. Kirkland. Harvard University will help as much as we can,” she added.

  Max stood and thanked her, and she walked him out to the main hallway. He called the pilot on Shea’s private jet and asked him to be ready to fly back to Colorado Springs within an hour. Shea didn’t know he was here, and there was a possibility that he wouldn’t go for this plan, but Max liked to be more of a problem solver for Shea. He didn’t quite understand why Shea was interested in GenSpan, but he supposed that by offering solutions before they became problems he may increase his value to Mr. Shea. He called Shea to see if he was available later this afternoon. He was.

  “So tell me, Max, what have you been cooking up?” Shea asked.

  “Well, I started thinking that if we waited a year or two before getting a replacement for Ms. Berg, she will likely have published some initial findings by then. I was thinking that might make a clean transition a bit difficult. So I’ve done some preliminary checking with both Harvard and MIT regarding their genetic research doctoral programs.”

  “Yes,” Shea said with a sly smile.

  “And both of them would allow for the last year or two of research to be done at GenSpan, so long as you allow their thesis professors to oversee the results,” Max said.

  Shea continued to smile, nodding. “So by getting them before they graduate, they would be much more likely to remain loyal to GenSpan, who helped assist them in their thesis,” Shea said

  “Well, I’ve already approached two candidates, and they would eagerly sign a five- or even ten-year commitment in exchange for financial assistance to complete their degrees,” Max explained.

  “The only sticking point is expediting their employment with GenSpan,” Shea said, “but I’m suspecting you already thought of that.”

  Max smiled and nodded. “Berg disappears. Sikes, he’s their unexpected donor, comes up with two replacements. In the meantime, you quietly approach the others who’ve already invested and buy their shares. You’ll own the company outright and you’ll control their researchers, which means you can control the direction of the research to your liking,” Max said.

  Shea smiled broadly. “Bravo,” he said. “How many other similar companies are there? That are doing genetic research on the scale of GenSpan?”

  “I don’t think there are many; GenSpan is likely the leading one at the moment.”

  “Do you think you could reproduce this for all of their competitors, without any of it leading back to me?” Shea asked, wondering if it would be possible to eventually own, and direct, all the genetic research in the United States.

  “Possible, yes, but it would take time. Five years, maybe ten. I would need to develop several layers of insulation, various non-profits, but yes, it would be possible,” Max said.

  “When will those two candidates of yours be ready?”

  “Two months, at the outside, to get everything set up,” Max said.

  “How about a replacement for Berg? If she were to disappear this week, how’s the pool of suitable candidates?”

  “You mean if GenSpan hires another PhD research scientist to replace her before our two students are hired?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not possible. I can have Sikes say that he’ll withdraw his money unless these two students are hired, they’ll never give up seventy-five million,” Max explained.

  “Very well. Verify with the universities and let Sikes know how to handle this. Once that’s done, get rid of Berg,” Shea said. Max nodded.

  “You said there was something else?” Shea asked.

  “Yes, I’ll have another recruit for you this Saturday. And likely another one every Saturday after that,” Max explained.

  “How old?” Shea asked.

  “Fourteen. High probability she’s a vi
rgin.”

  “That’s probably a good lower cut-off, try to keep them from fourteen to sixteen,” Shea said. “If we have to dispose of ten, even twenty percent, that is still a very good throughput. You are confident you’ll be able to bring in one per week?” Shea added.

  “Absolutely. I’ve already got twelve individuals in the preliminary stages, from which I’ll choose the easiest to acquire for next week. That’s off one Craigslist ad in a medium-sized market. It looks like each ad will bring in fifteen to twenty responses, and then we’ll just choose the easiest to acquire, so yes, I think one per week within that age range is fairly mechanical at this point,” Max said.

  “Very well, Max. I will increase your remuneration accordingly. Thank you,” Shea said. Max stood and left, closing the door behind him. Shea typed in the long password from memory and called up the designs of the underground structure. He quickly calculated how long he could handle a capacity of one recruit per week before needing to expand. Of course, the other facility that was currently being built would need to be expanded as well. He picked up the phone to make the call.

  “Mr. Lusk, how are things in the greenhouse?” Shea asked.

  “Mr. Shea, nice to hear from you. Everything is going splendidly. The marigolds are about to bloom, and there will be a very small window tomorrow afternoon, around four, where they will be particularly stunning. I strongly invite you to come see them, if you have the time,” Curtis said.

  “I’ll try and come by. Say, what would it take to double the size of the greenhouse? I have some more things I’d like you to do,” Shea asked.

  “Very easy sir, I’ll just call the contractors and have them extend the back end. How much would you like to expand?”

  “I would like the square footage to triple within two months. Would that be possible?”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lusk, keep up the good work,” Shea said and ended the call.

  Thirty One

  Prieto sat back in his leather chair. The door to his office was open, as it usually was. He could hear his assistants outside quietly chitchatting as they went about their work. His afternoon was open, no meetings and no significant economic events or speeches that might cause concern. He was well beyond the point of needing to watch the markets every second. For the last ten years he’d had highly screened and intensively trained account managers handling his various hedge funds. As he grew older, and more concerned with leaving a sizeable fortune to his hopefully many heirs, he’d become a lot more conservative with his investments. When he was younger, he’d made some very bold moves that he would simply not even consider today. But they’d paid off, and now he fondly looked back over his younger, swashbuckling days, glad he’d taken the risks that he did.