“And will it?”
“Look, I appreciate this process is hard to stomach, but it’s really not that different from organ donation. In the Seventies and Eighties it was actually quite normal for foetal cells to be used to develop vaccines.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Doctor Hardy? I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Doctor Wu is waiting for you downstairs.”
At the far end of the corridor, the diminutive form of the celebrated doctor kept the security door ajar. His lab coat was unbuttoned. Underneath he wore a light blue non-iron shirt, striped tie, high-waisted trousers, polished black shoes. There was a nervous energy about the man that suggested he didn’t like to be kept waiting.
“Gentlemen, what can we do for you today?”
“We appreciate you seeing us at short notice,” thanked Doctor Hardy. “Mister Samuels, I’d like to introduce you to my top geneticist, Doctor Wu.” Wu declined to shake hands but inclined his head in a formal half bow. “His was the team that discovered the genes responsible for several communicable diseases.”
“Actually, we’ve met. Albeit virtually. We exchanged emails several years ago.” Zed would have remembered the contact, but chose not to correct him. There was an edge to Wu’s voice as if he still harboured ill feeling. “You were at BioPharma.”
“Yes, albeit very briefly,” admitted Zed, on the back foot.
“You were a friend of Rupert’s.”
“Rupert Levine? On the Medical Research Council?” Zed remembered his suicide, attending the funeral near Salisbury, clouded by rumours of inappropriate behaviour, falsification of trials data, made public by the tabloids. “How long have you and Doctor Hardy worked together?” asked Zed, keen to change the subject.
“He brought me in as a consultant on a biodefence project he was running at Porton.”
“Scenario planning,” interrupted Hardy before Wu disclosed any further details. “The MoD tasked us with running various simulations to determine the readiness of our emergency services to cope with different types of terror attacks, particularly those involving communicable disease.”
Zed struggled to conceal a smile. It was one of the first times Doctor Hardy had volunteered anything about his work. Was this a sign Zed was earning his trust?
“I read your briefing document,” confirmed Zed.
“I should explain that Mister Samuels is an observer only. He’s been shadowing us for the last few weeks. He won’t admit it but he’s convinced Porton Down is responsible for the outbreak.”
Doctor Wu laughed into his sleeve, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “We had a rogue’s gallery of conspiracy theorists in the staff room at the Francis Crick Institute. Individuals who railed against the dangers of our work on genetics and questioned the safety of vaccines.”
“Doctor Hardy is trying to ridicule me. I assure you, I’m here to learn more about your work. I have an open mind.”
“It’s not so different to IVF or other forms of assisted conception. We give Mother Nature a helping hand,” added Doctor Wu. Zed wondered whether that included dissecting foetuses. “We use a gene-editing technology called Crispr. It’s been around for some time now. Perfectly safe, despite what the tabloids claim. Allows us to remove the genes responsible for harmful mutations, like cancer or HIV, and then re-splice the two DNA strands back together again. Like a pair of tiny scissors.”
“And you’ve already done this for the virus?”
“That’s right. We’ve already identified several genes we believe make us susceptible to viruses similar to MV-27. Without them the virus can’t bind properly and infect the host.”
“As simple as that?”
“In theory, yes, but we’re talking about billions of lines of genetic code. Complex algorithms that control gene expression, factor combinations. We only really understand a portion of how the immune system works. Very unpredictable. It’s a long process of trial and error until we find the optimal combination.”
“Wasn’t Crispr use banned for human embryos?”
“Restricted, certainly. Fiercely debated but never banned.”
“Because it raises many ethical questions.”
“Look, we’re talking about eliminating the virus altogether, blocking infection at source, even creating an entire generation with inbuilt immunity. In the circumstances, Mister Samuels,” cautioned Wu, “we need to set aside ethical considerations. What we’re attempting is unprecedented.”
“Has anyone actually implanted bio-engineered human embryos back into the womb before?”
“No, but we’re well aware of the risks.”
“How did you get the Council to agree to this?”
“It’s a very limited trial,” explained Hardy. “Right now, we have nine Crispr-assisted pregnancies. Two sets of twins due in the next couple of months. Potentially a giant leap forward for human health that could dwarf the achievement of penicillin. Worthy of a Nobel Prize for Medicine.”
“Immunity to the virus is just the first step,” continued Wu. “In time, we hope to use these same techniques to eradicate other diseases. The promise of a universal vaccine. Solutions that could save lives, not in twenty years’ time, but right now.”
“But where does this path lead?” asked Zed. “These same techniques could allow unprecedented control over other human characteristics: gender, intelligence, or athleticism.”
“We’re nowhere near that level of sophistication. It could take decades to understand the correct combination of genes to control something as simple as hair colour.”
“Has anyone considered the risk from genetic mutations, of hereditary anomalies?”
“Of course.”
“Doctor, you’re meddling in nature without any idea of the consequences. It’s another Pandora’s box. This is Frankenstein science at its worst.”
“As ever, Mister Samuels is grossly exaggerating the risks,” derided Hardy. “The risks are no different from any other experiment. If foetal abnormalities occur, we terminate the pregnancy.”
“All it takes is one mistake in the replication process,” countered Zed. “As the fertilised egg sub-divides, the genetic error could be repeated ad infinitum, a hidden mutation passed through successive generations. You could start a domino effect?”
“Do we really have a choice?”
“We always have a choice.”
“No, this is how progress happens. In the laboratory we expect mistakes, that’s how learning happens. Look, we’ve been using Crispr techniques for years. Why sit on our hands when we can give Mother Nature a helping hand? Make natural selection a thing of the past.”
“No, Doctor, once you start down this road, there’s no limit to how this technology could be misused. An entire generation of bio-engineered humans bred to order.”
“We’re decades away from that level of control.”
“Though you don’t deny it’s possible?”
“Theoretically. Any technology can be misdirected. Right now, we’re focused on eliminating disease, saving lives in any way shape or form.”
“Look, we were all sceptical at first, but the results speak for themselves.”
“How much do the Sisters know about what you’re really doing here?”
“Careful Samuels,” warned Hardy. “Being fully transparent about the nature of our work benefits no-one. It would only delay matters.”
“Fully transparent about what, Doctor?” said a familiar voice from the doorway.
Chapter 15
The last time Zed met Sister Theodora, she blamed him for spreading the disease that ravaged the residents of the Chewton Glen Hotel. Her face appeared contorted in a scowl, arms folded, flanked as usual by her enforcer, Sister Imelda. Doctor Wu stiffened at the Mother Superior’s accusatory tone. “Transparent about...” Wu stammered, momentarily lost for words.
“The in-vitro trial,” added a quick-thinking Hardy, coming to Wu’s aid. “We didn’t want to say anything until we knew for sure.”
>
“I see. Then the IVF procedure is a success?”
“Absolutely. Doctor Wu is already the toast of the Council.”
Zed smiled at the ease of the lie, wondering what else they were hiding.
“Do you take me for a fool, Doctor Hardy? I hope you have not forgotten why the colonel chose me to monitor your experiments.”
“We’re all well aware of your expertise on medical ethics. I apologise if my comments implied any different.” Hardy noticed Zed’s confusion, waiting for him to elaborate. “Sister Theodora served on several government sub-committees. She represented the Catholic Church at various life science summits and made a timely intervention in the MMR debate, if I remember correctly.”
“We forced the pharmaceutical giants to rethink their practices, but it was the Vatican who really brokered the deal. All I did was encourage compromise.”
“On the contrary, you did more good than you realise,” praised Hardy. “In response, they phased out the use of vaccines using foetal cells.”
“It was Cardinal Newman who campaigned for the total boycott.”
“I remember,” added Zed with bitterness. “His persistent interventions weaponised the entire vaccine debate at a critical time.”
“Mister Samuels, one should never be forced to choose between acting against one’s conscience and putting lives at risk.”
“Yes, but Newman lent legitimacy to the entire anti-vaccine campaign.”
“You’re exaggerating. If anyone’s to blame, it’s the pharmaceutical companies. They were the ones who ignored our objections and proceeded on commercial grounds.”
“Vaccination rates declined across the board. Diseases we had virtually eradicated, like measles, were allowed to make a comeback.”
“Doctor, profit should never come before purpose.”
“Look where purpose got us,” muttered Zed under his breath, but his interruption seemed to galvanise the doctors’ support for the sisters.
“We would not have come so far so fast without the Sisters’ unstinting support,” acknowledged Hardy, cautioning Zed against further challenge. The sister inclined her head in gratitude. “Undoubtedly, there will be more barriers to hurdle. Like any innovation process, we learn through trial and error. We aspire towards transparency as much as possible, though for obvious reasons, we cannot share every detail.”
“I’ve made my feelings clear on the subject. Patient safety is paramount. I will not allow science to play Russian roulette with women’s lives. Any adverse symptoms should be reported immediately. My cooperation with this programme remains under review.”
“I completely understand. And we’re doing our best to honour our commitments,” reassured Hardy, checking his wrist watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Doctor Wu and I have back-to-back meetings. Perhaps one of the sisters would be kind enough to show Mister Samuels around the rest of the facility?”
“It would be my pleasure,” volunteered Sister Imelda a little too eagerly, warranting a disapproving glare from her superior. Her cheeks seemed to redden, briefly meeting Zed’s amused gaze before looking away. They waited for the others to leave. Daniels lingered at a respectful distance.
“Don’t mind him. He’s with me.”
“Who do they think you need protecting from?”
“Myself,” admitted Zed with a wry smile.
After a stroll through town, taking in the other maternity wards, laboratories and accommodation, Sister Imelda led Zed towards the cliff top path where they could speak more freely. He had remained guarded in his responses, suspicious at the apparent shift in behaviour towards him. Gone was the reluctant authoritarian. In her place was something softer, more human somehow. He remained eager to gain an insight into the realities of daily life in Ventnor, not the sanitised version force fed to the Council by Major Donnelly.
The sister missed a step and half-stumbled, reaching out to grab his arm as she steadied herself.
“Thank you,” she smiled, turning to face him. “I’m so pleased we got this chance to talk. I feel I owe you an apology.”
“Whatever for?”
“For treating you so very poorly in your hour of need.”
“You were protecting your people,” he empathised. “As Riley later explained. I understand many of your residents suffered terrible hardship, unimaginable suffering prior to joining the Sisterhood.”
“I myself was a victim of domestic violence.” She parted her fringe to reveal a faded four-inch scar across her temple. “I suppose after years of providing shelter to vulnerable women, one develops a somewhat distorted view of men.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“Abuse leaves its mark in more ways than one.”
“We’re not all bad.” He smiled, inclining his head. “I know this sounds silly, but I always thought nuns were born into the job.”
“It takes all sorts,” she laughed. “Many of us have our own lives first. I suppose it’s why I empathise with the girls and want the best for them. This regeneration programme gives us all fresh purpose.”
“I imagine it’s prompted some fierce debates too,” encouraged Zed.
“Whatever makes you say that?” she asked.
“I’m surprised Mother Superior gave her permission in the first place. These medical trials are not for the faint of heart.”
“Ah, you mean because devout Catholics believe all human life is sacrosanct.”
“Don’t you?”
“Doctor Wu’s methods are unconventional. I assure you, the terminations are a matter of conscience for all of us.”
“I wondered how much you really knew.”
“Not much goes on here without Mother Superior finding out. We’ve counselled every single one of those girls who lost their baby, but you know, they willingly accept the risks. Sometimes, termination is the only safe option, particularly when there are complications. I’m well aware of the emotional cost. We encourage them to try again. Never having been a parent myself, it never ceases to amaze me the lengths mothers go to have children. Even risking their own health.”
Zed smarted at the reference to parental sacrifice, remembering his own failures. “Attitudes to our own mortality are much changed since the pandemic.”
“We should not fear death. Death gives life meaning. Without death, there can be no reason for living.”
“Everyone in St Mary’s shares the same hope that your brave volunteers can make a difference. You should know that the colonel has placed considerable faith in this programme.”
“Only God has the power to save lives. Do not underestimate the power of prayer.”
“Or the influence of science.”
They walked a little further along the coastal path towards Wheelers Bay in silence, observing successive waves sweep in from the Channel. Daniels maintained a respectful distance, out of earshot. The sister’s comment about parental sacrifice had stirred Zed’s underlying guilt that lurked beneath every waking thought. Whenever he allowed himself time to reflect, he blamed himself for leaving his family to face its fate without him during the outbreak. He could never forgive himself.
“Doctor Simms mentioned you spent time with my daughter? How did she seem?”
“Heather? Considering what she’s been through, she’s doing surprisingly well. Losing her mum and baby brother, not knowing what happened to her dad. Have you spoken to her?”
“She wrote. We exchanged a couple of letters. She’s being well looked after at the castle.”
“Then I hope I’m not speaking out of turn,” said the sister, pausing at a bench overlooking the clifftop. She invited him to have a seat next to her. “Heather confided in me. She said there were unresolved differences between you. You know...if you need someone to talk to, in confidence…”
“I appreciate the offer. I’ve never been very good at opening up. Or confession. Sorry, I’m not exactly the religious type.”
“I’m not talking about faith. This is about salvaging your
relationship with Heather. You still blame yourself, don’t you?” Her voice trailed off. Zed let out a long sigh. He had ignored these feelings for too long. Maybe it would do some good to talk to someone neutral. “Nothing we discuss will go any further, I give you my word.”
“Knowing I wasn’t at home for them when it mattered. That guilt is hard to live with.”
“But your daughter survived. That’s more than most got.”
“But my wife and son...”
“Be grateful for small mercies. Guilt, blame, regret, are all ways we punish ourselves. Do you know how many victim stories I’ve heard? Husbands and fathers refusing to face up to what they did or didn’t do. Burying their heads in the sand. I see you, Zed, like them, hiding from the world, from your family.”
“With all due respect, I know my own daughter. She’s like her mother. She finds it hard to forgive or forget. Look, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“How does your sin compare with all the other terrible things people did to survive? The unbridled rage, rape, murder. The petty vengeances meted out against all and sundry. Trust me, Heather has already forgiven you. Beneath all that teenage anger, she loves you, unconditionally.”
“She said that?”
“Yes. Many times. She understands you had your reasons, just as you do now. She trusts you.”
“Everything I’ve ever done, I did to protect my family. It was the reason I left them in the first place.”
“Protect them from what?”
“From the truth.” He fell silent, reluctant to open the door to his past.
“The Colonel told me what happened.” She paused noticing Zed’s confusion. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re talking about the reason you went to live in America, why you left the Ministry of Defence. He keeps us in the loop about the comings and goings at St. Mary’s. He has eyes and ears everywhere on this island.”
“It’s a long story. Ancient history.” Zed remained guarded, unsure whether he could trust her. He assumed this was some gambit, trawling for information. “Funny, the Colonel never mentioned coming here.”
The Hurst Chronicles | Book 4 | Harbinger Page 10