“Yes, hold on.”
I finished typing in his answer.
“Uh, could you explain what this means?” I asked. “It’s from your website: It may be possible, but unlikely, that a third party could identify you if they are able to combine your genetic data with other information available to them through other means.”
“It means exactly what it says,” Bolender said. “It’s possible but unlikely. Again, it’s legal speak. We are required to provide it in our consent form.”
“Do you want to expand on that? For example, what does ‘other information available to them’ mean?”
“It could mean a lot of things but we are not going to go past the disclaimer on that, Jack.”
“Has there ever been a breach of participant data at GT23?”
There was a pause before Bolender answered. Just long enough for me to be suspicious of his answer.
“Of course not,” Bolender said. “If there had been it would have been reported to the Food and Drug Administration, the agency that regulates the industry. You can check with them and you will find no report because it has never happened.”
“Okay.”
I was typing.
“Are you putting this into a story?” Bolender asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Like you said, I’m just gathering string. We’ll see.”
“Are you talking to the others? Twenty-Three and Me, Ancestry?”
“I will, yes.”
“Well, I would appreciate it if you would circle back to me if you’re going to publish a story. I would like to review my quotes to make sure I’m quoted accurately.”
“Uh... you didn’t make that request at the top of the call, Mark. It’s not something I usually do.”
“Well, I didn’t know at the top what the call was about. Now I’m concerned about being quoted accurately and in context.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve been doing this a long time and I don’t make up quotes or use them out of context.”
“Then I guess this conversation is over.”
“Look, Mark, I don’t get why you’re upset. You were a reporter, you now deal with reporters, you know how it works. You don’t lay down rules after the interview. What’s upsetting you?”
“Well, for one, I pulled up your bio and now see who you are.”
“I told you who I was.”
“But you didn’t mention the books you wrote about those killers.”
“Those are old, old stories that have nothing to—”
“Both were about advances in technology being used by bad people. The Poet? The Scarecrow? Serial killers so bad they had media names. So I don’t think you called up here to do a reassuring piece on our security. There is something else going on.”
He wasn’t wrong but he wasn’t right either. I still didn’t know what I had but his evasiveness was only increasing my feeling that there might be something here.
“There is nothing going on,” I said. “I am truly interested in knowing about the security of the DNA that is submitted to your company. But I will do this for you: if you want me to read back your quotes to you now, I will do that. You will see that I have them down accurately.”
There was silence and then Bolender responded in a clipped tone that told me the conversation was over — unless I found a way to keep it going.
“So, if we’re done here, Jack—”
“I’d like to ask a couple more questions. I was reading about how GT23 has grown so quickly into one of the largest providers of DNA analytics.”
“That’s true. What’s your question?”
“Well, does GT23 still do all of the lab work or has it gotten so big so fast that it subcontracts lab work?”
“Uh, I believe there is some contracting out of work to other labs. I know your last question is whether they operate with the same safety-and-privacy measures and the answer is yes, absolutely. Same standards right down the line. Well beyond government requirements. There is no story here and I need to go now.”
“Last question. You mentioned that the company and its contractors go beyond federal regulations and requirements in terms of security, reporting of any privacy breaches, and so forth. Are you aware that there aren’t any regulations and requirements and that any reporting on these issues would have to be self-reporting?”
“I, uh... Jack, I think you have bad information there. The FDA regulates DNA.”
“True, it falls under FDA purview, but the FDA has chosen, up till now, at least, not to regulate. So when you say that GT23 goes beyond govern—”
“I think what I’m saying is that we’re done here, Jack. Have a nice day.”
Bolender disconnected and I put the phone back in its cradle. I made a fist and silently bounced it on the desk like a hammer. My torching of Bolender with his own words aside, I was feeling the groundswell building around me. Bolender had great reason to be upset. Beyond his efforts to protect the reputation of the company that employed him, he had to know that the larger secret of the industry as a whole was in danger of being exposed. Genetic testing was a self-regulating industry with very few if any government eyes upon it.
And that was a news story.
9
I printed out all of my notes from the research and interviews. After retrieving the pages from the communal printer, I left the office, passing by Myron while he was on the phone making a pitch to another potential donor. This was a break. I would not have to explain what I was doing or where I was going. I got out the door without hearing my name called.
It took me forty-five minutes to drive downtown and find parking. I knew I was risking about two hours of wasted time by not calling ahead but I also knew that calling ahead risked that Rachel Walling would be conveniently out of her office when I got there.
Her office was in the elegant old Mercantile Bank at 4th and Main. It was on the historic registry, which guaranteed that the front of the structure still looked like a bank. But the once-grand interior had been renovated and chopped up into private offices and creative spaces primarily leased by lawyers, lobbyists, and others with business in the nearby civic center. Rachel had a two-room office with a secretary.
On the door it said raw data services. RAW as in Rachel Anne Walling. Her secretary was named Thomas Rivette. He was sitting behind his desk, staring at his computer screen. He handled much of the computer work involved in the background investigations that were the mainstay of the business.
“Hey, Jack,” Thomas said. “Didn’t expect you today.”
“Wasn’t expecting it myself,” I said. “Rachel back there?”
“She is. Let me just check if it’s clear. She might have client stuff spread out.”
He picked up the desk phone and called the room six feet behind him.
“Rachel? Jack McEvoy is here.”
I noted the use of my full name. It made me wonder whether there was another Jack in Rachel’s life and Thomas had to be clear about which one was waiting to see her.
He hung up the phone and looked up at me with a smile.
“It’s all clear. You can go back.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
I walked around his desk and through the door centered on the wall behind him. Rachel had a long, rectangular office with a small seating area in front and then an L-shaped desk with large monitors on each side so she could work different jobs simultaneously on separate computers with separate IP addresses.
She looked away from one of the screens and at me as I entered and closed the door behind me. It had been at least a year since I had seen her and that was only at the crowded open house in these offices when she announced that RAW Data was in business. There had been random texts and emails in the meantime but I realized as I smiled at her that I had probably not been alone with her for two years.