Darwin's Children Part 46

"And in mammals, they've won. We have surrendered some of the most crucial aspects of our lives to the viruses, just to give our babies time to develop in the womb, rather than in the constraining egg; time to develop more sophisticated nervous systems. A calculated gamble. All our generations are held ransom because of our indebtedness to the viral genes.

"Like getting a loan from the Mafia . . ."

Maggie Flynn knocked on the open door to d.i.c.ken's office. "Got a moment?" she asked.

"Not really. Why?" d.i.c.ken asked, turning in his rolling chair. Flynn looked flushed and upset.

"Something's come up. Jurie's off the campus. He tells us to sit tight. I don't think we can. We just aren't prepared."

"What is it?"

"We need expert advice," Flynn said. "And you could be the expert."

d.i.c.ken stood and stuck his hands in his pants pockets, alert and wary. "What sort of advice?"

"We have a new guest," Flynn said. "Not a monkey." She did not appear at all happy with the prospect.

If Maggie Flynn believed d.i.c.ken had Jurie's confidence, who was he to correct her? Flynn's pa.s.s could clear them both if his own pa.s.s was blocked-he had learned that much yesterday, visiting Presky's monotreme study lab.

Flynn took him outside the building to a small cart and drove him around the five linked warehouses that contained the zoo. Out in the open, away from listening devices, she expressed herself more clearly.

"You've worked with SHEVA kids," Flynn began. "I haven't. We have a tough situation, medically speaking, ethically speaking, and I don't know how to approach it. As the only married female in this block, Turner picked me to provide some moral support, establish a rapport . . . but frankly, I haven't a clue."

"What are you talking about?" d.i.c.ken asked.

Flynn stopped the cart, even more nervous. "You don't know?" she asked, her voice rising a notch.

d.i.c.ken's mind started to race and he saw he was on the edge of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up a golden opportunity. You've worked with . . . As the only married female . . . You've worked with . . . As the only married female . . .

They're doing it. They've done it. He felt his pulse going up and hoped it did not show. He felt his pulse going up and hoped it did not show.

"Oh," he said, with a fair imitation of casualness. "Virus children."

Flynn bit her lip. "I don't like that phrase." She pushed the cart forward again with the little control stick. "Jurie never worked directly with them. Only with specimens. Neither has Turner, and of course Presky is an animal guy, no bedside manner whatsoever. We thought of you. Turner said that must be why you're here, and why you're being given s.h.i.+t theoretical work-so you can be pulled loose for something like this when the time comes."

"Okay," d.i.c.ken said, putting on a mask of professional caution. He pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything revealing or stupid.

"Something's gone wrong at the border, I don't know what. I'm not in that particular loop. Jurie's in Arizona. Turner told me to bring you in before he gets back." Her smile was fleeting and desperate. "The cat's away."

It was an in-house conspiracy after all, and not a very convincing one. Flynn seemed to expect him to say something rea.s.suring and glib. The whole d.a.m.ned lab functioned on a morphine high of glibness, as if to hide the gnawing awareness that what they were doing might someday attract the attention of The Hague.

"G.o.d bless the beasts and children," d.i.c.ken said. "Let's go."

On the north side of the array of Pathogenics warehouses, a segmented, inflatable silver enclosure perched on a black expanse of parking lot like some huge alien larva. An access tube led from the enclosure into Warehouse Number 5, which contained most of the primate study labs. d.i.c.ken noticed two outside compressors and a complicated, freshly a.s.sembled sterilization unit on the south end of the sausage.

He didn't realize how big the enclosure was until they were almost upon it. The whole complex was as big as one of the warehouses and covered at least an acre.

They parked the cart and entered Warehouse 5 through the delivery door. Turner met them in a small clinic inside the warehouse-a hospital clinic, obviously equipped for humans and not just for primates. "Glad you could make it, Christopher," he said. "Jurie's dealing with some mess at the border. A bunch of protesters blocked a lab bus, refused to let it enter Arizona. They had help from the local police, apparently. Jurie had to order up another bus at the last minute and route it around the roadblocks."

"No surprise," Flynn said. d.i.c.ken glanced between them both. What he saw chilled him. The glibness had completely evaporated. They knew their careers were on the line.

"The preparations have been obvious, but Jurie only told us yesterday," Turner said. Their statements piled together.

"She's a very unhappy girl," Flynn said.

"I'm not sure we should even have her here," Turner said.

"She's pregnant," Flynn said.

"A rape, we're told. Her foster father," Turner said.

"Oh, G.o.d, I didn't know it was rape rape," Flynn said, and pressed her knuckles to her cheek. "She's only fourteen."

"They brought her from a school in Arizona," Flynn said. "Jurie calls it our our school. That's where we've been getting most of our specimens." school. That's where we've been getting most of our specimens."

"She's pregnant?" d.i.c.ken asked, dumbfounded, and then wondered if he had blown his cover.

"That's not generally known even in the clinic," Turner said. "I'd appreciate some discretion."

d.i.c.ken let his astonishment come forward. "That's major." His voice cracked. "But she's 52 xx. What about polyploidy?"

"I only know what I see," Turner said grimly. "She's pregnant by her foster father."

"That's absolutely huge huge," d.i.c.ken said.

"She arrived at the school a month ago," Turner said. "We discovered her pregnancy when we processed a set of her blood tests. Jurie almost had a heart attack when he got the results from the lab. He seemed elated. He got her transferred to Pathogenics last week without telling the rest of us."

"I was so mad," Flynn said. "I could have clobbered him."

"What else could we do? The school couldn't take care of her, and it's for d.a.m.n sure no hospital would touch her."

d.i.c.ken held up his hand. "Who's working the clinic?" he asked.

"Maggie, Tommy Wrigley-you met Tommy at the party, and Thomas Powers. Some people brought in from California; we don't know them. And, of course, Jurie, on the research side. But he's never even visited the girl."

"What's her condition?"

"She's about three months along. Not doing too well. We think she may have self-induced s.h.i.+ver," Flynn said.

"That is not confirmed," Turner said angrily. "She's acting as if she has the flu, and that's all it may be. But we're being extra cautious. And this information goes nowhere . . . don't even tell anyone else at Pathogenics."

"But Dr. d.i.c.ken would know if it's s.h.i.+ver, wouldn't he?" Flynn said defensively. "Isn't that why Jurie brought you here?"

"Let's look at the girl," d.i.c.ken said.

"Her name is Fremont, Helen Fremont," Flynn said. "She's originally from Nevada. Las Vegas, I think."

"Reno," Turner corrected. Then, his face collapsing in utter misery, his shoulders slumping, he added, "I don't think I can take this much longer. I really don't."

34.

BALTIMORE-WAs.h.i.+NGTON.

Kaye and Marge Cross sat in the back of the taxi in silence. Kaye looked at the pa.s.sive neck of the driver below his turban, caught a glimpse of his small grin in the rearview mirror. He was whistling to himself, happy. For him, having a SHEVA granddaughter was no great burden, obviously.

Kaye did not know much about conditions for SHEVA children in Pakistan. Generally, traditional cultures-Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists-had been more accepting of the new children. That was both surprising and humbling.

Cross drummed her fingers on her knee and looked out the window at the highway, pa.s.sing cars. A long semi rolled past with TRANS-NATIONAL BIRMINGHAM PORK emblazoned in huge red letters on the sides of its two trailers.

"Spent lots of money on that that one," Cross murmured. one," Cross murmured.

Kaye a.s.sumed she was referring to pig tissue transplants. "Where are we going, Marge?" she asked.

"Just driving," Cross said. Her chin bounced up and down, and Kaye could not be sure whether she was nodding or just moving her jaw in time to the truck ruts in the roadway.

"That address is in a residential neighborhood. I know Baltimore and Maryland pretty well," Kaye said. "I a.s.sume you aren't kidnapping me."

Cross gave her a weak smile. "h.e.l.l, you're paying," she said. "There's some people I think you'll want to meet."

"All right," Kaye said.

"Lars came down pretty hard on Robert."

"Robert's a sanctimonious p.r.i.c.k."

Cross shrugged. "Nevertheless, I'm not going to take Lars's advice."

"I didn't think you would," Kaye said. She hated to lose her labs and her researchers, even now. Doing science was her last comfort, her lab the last place she could take refuge and lose herself in work.

"I'm letting you go," Cross said.

To her surprise, the blow did not feel so heavy after all. It was Kaye's turn to nod in time to the cab's rubbery suspension.

"Your work with me is over," Cross said.

"Fine," Kaye said tightly.

"Isn't it?" Cross asked.

"Of course," Kaye said, her heart thumping. What I have been putting off doing. What I cannot do alone. What I have been putting off doing. What I cannot do alone.

"What more would you do at Americol?"

"Pure research on hormonal activation of retroviral elements in humans," Kaye said, still grasping at the past. "Focus on stress-related signaling systems. Transfer of transcription factors and regulating genes by ERV to somatic cells. Study the viruses as common genetic transport and regulatory systems for the body. Prove that the all-disease model is wrong."

"It's a good area," Cross said. "A little too wild for Americol, but I can make some calls and get you a position elsewhere. Frankly, I don't think you're going to have time."

Kaye lifted her eyebrows and thinned her lips. "If I'm no longer employed by you, how can you know how much time I'll have?"

Cross smiled, but the smile vanished quickly and she frowned out the window. "Robert picked the wrong hammer to hit you with," she said. "Or at least he did it in front of the wrong woman."

"How's that?"

"Twenty-three years ago come August, I was beginning to drum up venture capital for my first company. I was packing my schedule with meetings and heavy-duty lunches." Her expression turned wistful, as if she were recalling an old, wonderful romance. "G.o.d dropped in. Bad timing, to say the least. He hit me so hard I had to drive to the Hamptons and hide out in a hotel room for a week. Basically I swooned."

She was avoiding direct eye contact, like a little girl confessing. Kaye leaned forward to see her face more clearly. Kaye had never seen Cross look so vulnerable.

"I can't tell you how scared I was that He was a sign of madness, epilepsy, or worse."

"You thought it was a he?"

Cross nodded. "Doesn't make sense for a couple of strong women, does it? It bothered me a lot, then. But no matter how bothered I was, how scared I was, I never thought about visiting a radiology center. That was brilliant, Kaye. Not cheap, but brilliant."

Kaye glanced at the driver's face in the rearview mirror. He was obviously trying to ignore the words being spoken in the backseat, trying to give them privacy-and not succeeding.

"Love isn't the word, but it's all we have. Love without desire." Cross reached up to wipe her perfectly manicured fingers beneath her eyes. "I've never told anybody. Someone like Robert would have used it against me."

"But it's the truth," Kaye said.

"No, it isn't," Cross said peevishly. "It's a personal experience. It was real to you and to me, but that doesn't get us anywhere in this old, cruel world. That same vision might have compelled someone else to burn old women as witches or kill Englishmen, like Joan of Arc. Cranking up the old Inquisition."

"I don't think so," Kaye said.

"How do you know the butchers and murderers didn't get a message?"

Kaye had to admit that she did not.

Cross said, "I've spent so much of my time trying to forget, just so I could do the work I had to do to get where I wanted to be. Sometimes it was cruel work, stepping on other folks's dreams. And whenever I remembered, it just crushed me again. Because I knew this thing, it, He, would never punish me, no matter what I did or how I misbehaved. Not just forgiveness-no judgment. Only love Only love. He can't be real," Cross said. "What He said and what He did doesn't make any sense." He can't be real," Cross said. "What He said and what He did doesn't make any sense."

"He felt real to me," Kaye said.

"Did you ever hear what happened to Thomas Aquinas?" Cross asked.

Kaye shook her head.

"The most admired theologian of all. Furiously adept thinker, logical beyond all measure-and pretty hard to read nowadays. But smart, no doubt about it, and a young fellow when he made his mark. Student of Albertus Magnus. Defender of Aristotle in the Church. He wrote big thick tracts. Admired throughout Christendom, and still revered as a thinker to this day. On the morning of December 6, 1273, he was saying Ma.s.s in Naples. He was older, about my age. Right in the middle of the sermon, he just stopped speaking, and stared at nothing. Or stared at everything everything. I imagine he must have gawped like a fish." Cross's expression was quizzical, distant.

"He stopped writing, dictating, stopped contributing to the Summa Summa, his life's work. And when he was pressed to explain why he had stopped, he said, 'I can do no more; such things have been revealed to me that all I have written seems as straw, and I now await the end of my life.' He died a few months later." Cross snorted. "No wonder Aquinas was brought up short, the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I know a hierarchy when I see one. I'm little better than a wriggly worm in a pond compared to what touched me. I wouldn't dare try to tell G.o.d how to behave." She smiled. "Yes, dear, I can be humble." Cross patted Kaye's hand. "And that's that. You're fired. You've done all you need to do, for now, at my company."