“Okay, I get that and I’m not saying that’s a good thing, but wasn’t there the safety that it was all anonymous? I mean, these researchers were given the DNA but not the identities of the participants, right?”
“Of course, but that’s not the point. You’re thinking in the present. What about the future? This science is very young. We haven’t even had the whole genome for twenty years. New things are discovered about it every day. Will what is anonymous now stay that way in twenty years? In ten years? Or will usernames and passwords not matter? What if your DNA is your identifier and you’ve already given it away?”
Hwang raised his hand and pointed a finger at the ceiling.
“Even the military,” he said. “Did you know that this year the Pentagon told all members of the military not to do DNA kits because of the security issues they pose?”
I had not seen that report but I did grasp Hwang’s point.
“Were you warning GT23 about this?” I asked.
“Of course I was,” Hwang said. “Every day. I was the only one.”
“I read the lawsuit.”
“I can’t talk about that. Even off the record. My lawyer—”
“I’m not asking you to. But the lawsuit, it says the employee who filed the complaint against you — David Shanley — set you up to get your job and that it was not investigated by the company.”
“It was all lies.”
“I know. I get that. But the motive. You don’t think it could have been to shut you up about this — about the lack of controls or concern over where the DNA was going?”
“All I know is that Shanley got my job. He lies about me and gets my fucking job.”
“That could have been his reward for getting you out of the company. They were afraid you would be a whistleblower.”
“My lawyer has subpoenaed company documents. Emails. If it’s there, we’ll find it.”
“Let’s go back to what you were saying about the DNA being sold by the company. Can you remember any names of labs or biotechs that were sold samples?”
“There were too many to remember. We put bio-packs together almost every single day.”
“Who was the biggest buyer of DNA? Do you remember?”
“Not really. Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re looking for?”
I looked at him for a long moment. I was the seeker of facts and information. I was supposed to hold them close to the vest and not share them until it was time to put them into a story. But I felt that Hwang knew more than he was saying, even if he didn’t yet realize it. I felt that I needed to break my own rule and give in order to get.
“Okay, I’ll tell you why I’m really here.”
“Please.”
“A young woman was murdered last week in L.A. — her neck broken. I was looking into it and came up with three other women in California, Texas, and Florida who were killed in exactly the same way.”
“I don’t understand. What does it have to do with—”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe it’s all coincidence. But all four of the women were GT23 participants. They didn’t know each other but they had all sent in their DNA. Four women killed in the same way, four women who were participants. To me, that moves beyond coincidence and that’s why I’m here.”
Hwang said nothing. He seemed to be contemplating the possibilities of what I was telling him.
“There’s more,” I said. “I haven’t done a lot of work on this yet but there may be another commonality.”
“Which is what?” Hwang asked.
“Some sort of addictive behavior. The L.A. woman had been treated for alcoholism and drugs. She was sort of a party girl — went out to a lot of clubs, met men in bars.”
“Dirty four.”
“What?”
“Dirty four. It’s what some geneticists call the DRD4 gene.”
“Why?”
“It has been identified in relation to at-risk behavior and addiction, including sex addiction.”
“Is it in the female genome?”
“Both male and female.”
“Take a woman who frequently goes to bars by herself to pick up men for sex — are you saying it’s because she has the DRD4 gene?”
“Possibly. But the science is in its infancy and everybody is individual. I don’t think you can say for sure.”
“As far as you know, are any of GT23’s collaborators studying the dirty-four gene?”
“It’s possible, but that’s what I’m saying is wrong. We can sell DNA for one purpose, but who’s to stop them from using it for another purpose? What stops them from selling it again to a third party?”
“I saw a story about the company. It listed some of the places the DNA was going. It mentioned a study of addiction and risky behavior at a lab down in Irvine.”
“Yes. Orange Nano.”
“That’s the lab?”
“That’s the lab. Big buyers.”
“Who runs it?”
“A bio guy named William Orton.”
“Is it part of UC–Irvine?”
“No, privately funded. Probably Big Pharma. You see, GT23 liked to sell to the private labs better than to universities. The private labs paid more and there wasn’t a public record of transactions.”
“Did you deal with Orton?”
“A few times on the phone. That was it.”
“Why were you on the phone with him?”
“Because he would call me and ask about a bio-pack. You know, checking to see if it had shipped or maybe to add to an existing order.”
“He ordered more than once?”
“Sure. Many times.”
“Like every week? Or what?”
“No, like once a month or sometimes longer.”
“And what would an order be? How much?”
“A bio-pack contains one hundred samples.”
“Why would he need to keep ordering bio-packs?”
“For continuing-research purposes. They all do that.”
“Did Orton ever talk about his lab’s research?”
“Sometimes.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much. Just that that was his field of study. Addiction in many forms. Alcohol, drugs, sex. He wanted to isolate those genes and develop therapies. But that’s how I know about dirty four. From him.”
“He used the phrase ‘dirty four’?”
“Yes.”
“Had anybody else used it with you before?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Have you ever been down to Orange Nano?”
“No, never. My only contact was by phone and email.”
I nodded. I knew at that moment that I would be going down to Irvine to visit Orange Nano.
12
I decided that the best use of my time would not be to get into the crush of cars waiting to go over the mountain to the Valley through one of the choked-off freeways or mountain roads. That could take ninety minutes at this time of day. One of the things that made the City of Angels so beautiful also created one of its greatest hardships. The Santa Monica Mountains cut through the middle of the city, leaving the San Fernando Valley — where I lived and worked — on the north side and the rest of the city, including Hollywood and the Westside, to the south. There were two freeways that cut through the big passes and several two-lane winders. Take your pick but at five o’clock on a weekday you weren’t going anywhere. I drove over to Cofax Coffee and set up with a cappuccino and my laptop at a table beneath the display of bobbleheads and other Dodger paraphernalia.
I first sent Myron Levin an email briefly summarizing my interview with Jason Hwang and the leads I had picked up regarding Orange Nano. Next, I opened a file and tried to recall everything Hwang had told me, writing a detailed summary of the interview from memory. I was halfway through my second cappuccino when I took a call from Myron.