by Wally Duff
“How would the government handle a situation like this?” Hannah asked.
“They would hire an asset to do their wet work and eliminate the person or persons who could tell the world about the illegal financing.”
“My husband would be one of them,” Hannah said.
“Obviously there are several people involved, but he’s the one who received the funds and would know the whole story,” he said.
“The feds let Jamie go, even though he was one of the industrial spies,” I reminded him.
“Then Jamie knows someone alerted the FBI about his group,” he said. “If he assumes that person is Micah, he might want to kill Micah, and even you and your children, because of that.”
“Is it possible that someone in the government purposely let him go to do this ‘wet’ work for them?” she asked.
“It would be a win-win for them,” he said. “There would be no record of the government doing this, and their problem with the illegal financing issue would be solved.”
“What should I do?” Hannah asked.
“Protect yourself and your kids here and Micah at his lab,” he said. “It’s the only thing you can do.”
I kept quiet. They came to the same conclusion the Hamlin Park Irregulars did.
Jamie had reason to kill everyone involved.
44
Three hours later, David and I stood in front of Micah’s lab. The people from Hogan’s Chicago office arrived at Hannah’s as we ran back to my house to grab my mommy van.
Nothing had changed at the lab since my last visit. I parked on the street. We climbed out and stood on the driveway to the lab.
“Oh, my,” David said. “This is not good, not good at all.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
We walked to the empty guard stand, ducked under the gate, and moved into the parking lot.
“Where are the security guards?” he asked.
“There aren’t any.”
His eyebrows shot up. “None at all?”
“Zip. Nada.”
“According to your article, his scientific technology is worth millions of dollars. How is it possible there is no security?”
“Micah is a genius. He doesn’t concern himself with things like that.”
“Then we’ll have to do it for him. Show me where to go.”
We walked through the unlocked front door and into the small waiting room. No one greeted us. I opened the second door, and we entered a long, windowless hallway. The cement floors and walls were painted white. The acoustic ceiling tiles were also white. The fluorescent lighting was almost too bright.
There were no internal security cameras. People in white lab coats bustled around in the hall, going in and out of doors. The cloying smell of heavy-duty cleaning solvents irritated my nose.
Fight it.
I couldn’t let the smells trigger a PTSD attack.
Relax.
I stopped and shut my eyes, placing my hand on the wall for support. I took several deep breaths before I could follow David, who was already fifteen feet in front of me.
Increasing my pace, I caught up with him. He stopped one of the workers and asked where to find Micah. She pointed at a door to our left.
We knocked. Micah told us to come in.
45
We entered a high-ceilinged office the size of a four-car garage. Thick light-blue carpet was laid wall-to-wall. Lush pastel fabrics covered two club chairs. They were grouped around a distressed leather couch. Low voltage lighting illuminated early twentieth century works of art hanging on the walls.
The subtle scent in the room came from freshly-cut summer flowers arranged in four matching Lalique crystal vases standing on polished mahogany end tables. I also detected a faint aroma of lemon-scented furniture polish.
Pictures of Hannah and their four kids were prominently displayed. Behind Micah’s modern chrome and glass desk, and next to an American flag on a pole, was a picture on the wall of a smiling Micah and the guy who worked in the Oval Office. He smiled too.
“Welcome,” Micah said. He stepped out from behind the desk and shook our hands. “Hannah called and told me you were coming. We have much to discuss and not much time, so please find a place to sit.”
Micah is about Molly’s height, and his light brown skin tone complements his black eyes and hair. He has a soft bass voice with the trace of a British accent. He wore a heavily starched, long white lab coat. His crisp white shirt looked like it was custom-made, and he wore a Hermès patterned tie. It was hard to see his slacks because of the length of his lab coat, but his polished black loafers appeared to be Italian leather.
David picked a club chair. I sat on the couch and checked around for security cameras. So did David. We didn’t see any.
“David, since you are new to this, I will give you a PowerPoint presentation summarizing my work here,” Micah said, as he sat down behind his desk and turned to his computer.
He hit a button on his desk, and a white screen rolled down on the far wall. “Speaking to both of you will give me a chance to polish a speech I am going to deliver at the United Center on September 11th. Feel free to break in at any time with questions. I need that feedback.”
46
I remembered the phone call from Gayle Nystrom reminding me to write a story for my column.
“I’m sure what you’re about to tell us would make a terrific story for my local column,” I said. “Are you open to giving me an exclusive interview about this?”
“I think the announcement about my embryonic stem cell technology might make a better story, especially since the president is going to introduce me. He will be here for a 9/11 speech earlier in the day, and this was the best time for him to do this for me.”
The president? Here?
My heart began to pound.
This is what I really want: another front page opportunity.
And working on it wouldn’t be risky.
“In fact, I suggested to the president’s people that you write the story for the Tribune,” he continued.
I could tell by the distressed look on his face there was a problem. “Is there a ‘but’ coming here?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, there is. The FBI has specifically requested that you not be allowed to have anything to do with the story.”
Dang it.
I was still paying the price for ignoring the FBI’s orders not to enter the clinic in Arlington and my recent encounter at O’Hare.
“May I at least go to your speech?”
He smiled. “Most certainly. I do not want you to miss it. I will arrange for a special priority pass to be delivered to your home for you and for the rest of your friends. Hannah actually suggested it.”
“That would be terrific.”
There’s something you’re not telling me.
“I do have some influence, and I requested that Carter be selected as the reporter to have an exclusive interview with me and the president,” he continued. “That way, you can keep the story in the family.”
Wow!
“My hubby will be thrilled. Thank you for thinking of him.”
Micah bowed his head to me. “It is the least I can do for what you did for me and my family involving that business at O’Hare.”
47
Micah turned to David. “For my speech, I will need to provide some of my personal background information. Please bear with me because Tina has already heard it.”
Walking out from behind his desk, Micah moved closer to the screen. He had a remote control in his left hand to change his PowerPoint slides. I pictured him addressing several thousand people. He cleared his throat and then stared at the wall behind us as he began to speak.
“I began my career as an OB-GYN specialist, but my interest gravitated to in vitro fertilization.”
He clicked the remote control to move through images of his lab at the Assuta Medical Center in Tel Aviv and another one at Northwestern. He used a laser pointer to dr
ive home the content of his speech. A third photo of a laboratory that I hadn’t seen before appeared on the screen. It had to be the one we were in.
“I can now reveal to you that I have perfected a technique using embryonic stem cells to effectively treat, and possibly cure, multiple sclerosis. David, according to what Hannah texted me before you arrived, you know that ‘industrial spies’ attempted to steal the technique from me, but thanks to a female FBI agent and Detective Infantino, they failed.”
David nodded but didn’t respond.
“I was going to begin Phase I trials, but because of the dramatic success I have had with a few courageous patients, the FDA has fast-tracked my technique, and on September 12th, we will begin treating patients from all over the world.”
I raised my hand. “Why wait until then? Why not start today?”
“In order to move this quickly, my lab requires a massive infusion of funds. As I said before, the President of the United States is going to join me on the 11th to announce his full support for embryonic stem cell research, in general, and my technique, in particular.”
Here we go.
“But the president is against that, or at least I thought he was,” David said.
“Yes, about that. The tiresome debate about when life begins is unimportant compared to the diseases physicians can treat — and cure — using fresh embryonic stem cells. The president now agrees with this concept and has authorized the necessary funds.”
“My grandmother in Idaho has Parkinson’s, and it’s killing her,” David said. “All the medicines she takes have terrible side effects and don’t help all that much. Can embryonic stem cells help her?”
“I am sorry she has such a devastating illness, and you are correct about the present medications available to her. The side effects are almost worse than the disease, which brings up a pertinent point: doctors rarely cure their patients.”
48
An ominous silence engulfed the room.
“Obviously, that statement grabbed your attention,” Micah said. “I will add it to my speech.”
“If you do, you’ll need to clarify what you mean,” I said. “I don’t think David and I understand what you’re saying. At least, I don’t.”
David nodded, indicating he agreed with me.
“An operation to take out your tonsils or gall bladder will cure you of that disease process. But David, what about your grandmother with Parkinson’s, or a child with type 1 diabetes? Their physicians can treat and control their symptoms but not cure them. It is extremely frustrating for all involved. With more funding, I will expand our lab’s focus to include degenerative diseases like Parkinson’s or traumatic injuries of the spinal cord. Physicians will finally be able to successfully cure these problems.”
“Can you explain to me how you do this embryonic stem cell technology?” David asked.
“Gladly,” he said. “Fresh embryonic stem cells are the source for the originating cells from which all tissues in the body develop during the earliest days of gestation. I use somatic cell nuclear transfer, SCNT for short, to turn these cells into rejection-free transplant tissues.”
“My wife, Mary, had IVF with our daughter, Margaret,” David said. “Is your technique the same as creating IVF embryos?”
“Actually, far different. I have invented a laboratory procedure to create a cloned embryo with a donor somatic nucleus that matches each individual patient.”
“But aren’t U.S. scientists already using existing cell lines for this research?” David asked.
“They are, indeed, but in this country these lines are being used at a very limited rate. And those cells are not fresh and healthy and do not provide the essential tissue for my needs.”
“But I’ve read the embryos are living organisms,” David said. “If you’re cloning embryos in a Petri dish with SCNT technology, aren’t you killing the embryos when you harvest those cells?”
Micah glared at David. “You said you have a daughter, do you not, David?”
“Yes.”
“Do you consider a five-day-old embryo in the blastocyst stage and your daughter to be equivalent?”
“Personally, I’m not sure about that, but there are many who believe that an embryo, from the moment of conception, has the same moral status as my child.”
“So, in their view, the early embryo is a person.”
“It’s my understanding that they feel creating and then killing embryos to obtain embryonic stem cells is wrong, even if it can save lives.”
Micah glanced at David and then at me. “Both of you are parents. If you had to choose between saving your children from dying of a lethal disease, or sacrificing cloned human embryos to harvest embryonic stem cells to find a cure to save them, which one would you choose?”
David and I looked at each other but didn’t speak.
“In my judgment, the early embryo is simply a cluster of human cells lacking any moral status, and given its promising potential, embryonic stem cell and cloning research is an imperative for all physicians.”
Micah paused and then continued. “IVF is laboratory support for human reproduction. My procedure is not intended to evolve into a human being. The embryos I create from SCNT are no more than a tissue culture.”
“Then this is exactly why you need security here,” David said.
49
“I agree with David,” I said.
“I have no idea why,” Micah said.
I told him about my being blown up in an abortion clinic bombing five years ago and the recent bombings in Chicago. He sat down as he listened to me speak.
When I finished, he stood up and then sat on the edge of his desk. “I can see the logic in your argument, but the general public does not know about my specific discovery and will not until September 11th. And you did not mention the theoretical connection of my process with abortion in your article in the Tribune.”
“I omitted it because of this controversy,” I said.
“I now understand that, but after the 11th, the government can take care of the expense of protecting this lab.”
“But you might not live long enough to get that protection,” David said.
“I do not understand what you mean.”
“Do you remember Jamie?” I asked.
“Hannah said you mentioned this man. All I remember about him is that he was one of the ‘industrial spies.’ As far as I am concerned, all this discussion and worry keeps me from focusing on my work, and I do not have any time for this.”
Hannah was right. A genius is different. Micah’s only interest was in his research.
“On Thursday, Jamie set a trap for me in his apartment,” I said. “His plan was to blow up two small C4 bombs to kill me. Fortunately, he failed.”
“I have no idea what this has to do with my security here at the lab.”
“Did the ‘industrial spies’ threaten to kill Hannah and your children if you went to the FBI?” I asked.
He hung his head. “They did.”
“The FBI arrested all of them, but then they let Jamie go,” I said. “Who does Jamie think told the FBI about their plans?”
He didn’t respond.
“The only conclusion Jamie can reach is that you told the FBI about their plot,” I continued.
I didn’t want to suggest that Jamie might think I, or any of the Hamlin Park Irregulars, might have done it instead of Micah.
He nodded. “I can see that, yes.”
“There is one other thing,” I said. “It’s about your financing.”
A blood vessel popped up in the middle of his forehead and began to throb. “The financing of this laboratory is no concern of yours!”
“But it might be to the rival political party of the President of the United States,” David said.
For the first time, Micah’s professional persona cracked. He was shaken and couldn’t speak. Clearly, he thought no one would discover the government illegally funded his work.
“I
know people at a company who can provide total security to you and your family, both here and at your home,” David said. “No one will have the skill set or resources to get to any of you.”
Micah smacked his head. “But the expense! Oy!”
“Hannah has already committed to paying for it,” I said.