Altenstein turned to midway in his binder, his eyes shifting from the pages to Conrad’s waiting glare. “As I told you before, we can target specific genes or other DNA factors with the nanoinhibitors.” He paused and tried to find the words that would not confuse Conrad. He knew that Conrad was a businessman, not a scientist. He had people in his company for that. He was a genius taking technological innovations and exploiting them for commercial use, though. Altenstein’s research would be no different.
“Please continue, Herr Professor.”
“Right. So, we had mice with a bacterial infection, for instance, that we then injected with the inhibitors designed to attack bacteria.” Altenstein smiled broadly now, his eyes moving from the papers in the binder to Conrad. “The nanos wiped out the bacteria within twenty-four hours.”
“My God.”
Altenstein felt almost like God at that moment. “Absolutely. We have replicated the studies with more than five of the most common bacteria. Same result.”
“This will make antibiotics obsolete,” Conrad said, his eyes sparkling with the possibilities. He was seeing Euro signs now.
“The other genetic factors you asked to study seem equally promising,” Altenstein said, flipping through more pages. He didn’t have to rely on paper; he knew exactly off the top of his mind the results of his work. “We tested for a genetic defect in several mice — those with a predisposition to hormonal obesity — and all mice injected with the nanoinhibitor programmed to eliminate this hormone did just that. All mice lost weight.”
“My God.” Conrad shook his head. “Will this work with any gene?”
Altenstein hesitated, wondering why he would ask this question. “I would think so. With proper inhibitors.”
Conrad was thinking hard now, his head moving up and down. “Could you reverse the problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“Instead of inhibiting a process…could you make the nanos react to a genetic factor?”
“You mean attack a certain genetic trait?” Altenstein shrugged. “It’s possible.” After he said it, he regretted having done so. A light went off in the professor’s brain. God indeed.
“How long before you could test for that?” Conrad said, his voice shifting from jazz to heavy metal.
“I would have to get mice with a particular trait we wanted to eliminate,” Altenstein said. “That could take a while.”
“Let’s not reinvent the wheel here, professor.” Conrad rubbed his chin. “What’s the most obvious genetic trait?”
Altenstein didn’t want to answer. He couldn’t.
“What about hair color?” Conrad said. “You have white mice…and black mice. I’ve seen them in your lab.”
“You want me to test mice with white or black fur?”
“Can you do that?”
Altenstein wanted to say no, but he was sure Conrad could ask a scientist on his staff who would tell him the truth. He probably already had, he guessed. With the entire mouse genome in the university database, fur color would be the easiest factor to test.
“Sure.” Altenstein said tentatively.
“Wonderful. Do that as soon as possible.”
“But your company could make a fortune from the antibiotic inhibitor alone, not to mention the anti-obesity inhibitor.”
“Absolutely,” Conrad said. “Send all your data to my scientists on both of those, and then move on to the new tests.”
Conrad reached out to shake Altenstein’s hand, and the professor reluctantly shook before taking his hand back and shoving it deep into his pocket. Had he just made a pact with the Devil?
Starting for the door, Conrad stopped and turned. “Make sure you keep this and future research to yourself and only your most trusted graduate students. No more conferences.”
It was not a request, Altenstein knew. What had he done?
Conrad shuffled out of the office and the professor walked to the window. In a few moments he watched his benefactor make his way to his Mercedes, get in, and drive off. He wondered if they could factor in Mercedes drivers? Altenstein smiled at that. Maybe only left handed Mercedes drivers.
5
By the time Jake got back to Vienna with Albrecht in tow, he was tired and confused, two things Jake hated to consume his body. Having found a small, isolated bridge crossing the Danube, Jake had quickly found a train station on the Austrian side. From there they had taken a train back, picked up Albrecht’s Mercedes, drove to the airport southeast of the city, and parked the car in the long-term lot. Jake was afraid that if they left the car on the street eventually the Polizei would find it and then someone would realize Albrecht was missing. Albrecht already had someone trying to find him, and kill him, and he didn’t need the Austrian Polizei also looking for him.
From the airport Jake and Albrecht had taken the schnellbahn, the U-Bahn and a tram back to Jake’s car, and immediately headed out of the city to try to hide the Grand Master.
Now it was mid afternoon and Jake kept his VW Golf at a moderate pace along Autobahn A1 westbound toward Linz. He kept his eye on the traffic around him, making sure they were not being followed. So far so good, he thought.
“That was a good idea leaving my car at the airport,” Albrecht said. He had been quiet for the past hour, probably trying to understand the fate of his friend in Bratislava. “Not to mention having me call my office and telling them I’d be taking a few days off. They would have worried, especially once they got word of my friend’s murder.”
Jake grunted and watched for signs ahead. He would need to turn off soon, at random, and stash his new boss in some small town. No forethought. Just pick a town. There. A sign for the Steyr exit. Steyr was a smaller town just south of their location, a town made famous mostly by production of one of the world’s great automatic weapons.
Looking in his rearview mirror as he slowed down the off-ramp, Jake checked to see if anyone had followed them off the autobahn. Nothing yet. He got onto a small southbound two-lane road and picked up speed. Out in the countryside, he glanced back again and then hit the brakes, pulling into a farmer’s road among a small grove of trees. He turned the car around, pulled forward until he was sure the trees hid them, and waited.
“What’s the matter?” Albrecht asked, concern in his worried eyes.
Jake pulled out his gun, slid a round into the chamber, and gently moved the hammer forward. “Just as we turned south, I noticed an Audi come down the autobahn ramp. Just a precaution.”
A minute later and the Audi A6 crossed on the road in front of them. Just a driver, Jake thought. “Hang onto this,” Jake said, handing his gun to Albrecht and pulling out onto the road.
“I can’t handle a gun,” Albrecht said, looking as if Jake had handed him a pile of dog crap.
“Just hold the damn thing. I’ll take it from you if I need it.”
Getting up to speed, Jake could see the car ahead, keeping a steady pace. The closest town was ten kilometers down the road.
Suddenly, the Audi’s brake lights came on and the car started to slow, giving Jake just a second to decide what to do — pass him or pull up behind the guy. He didn’t like either choice. A car doesn’t stop for no reason out in the middle of nowhere. Jake decided to slow down.
The rain was a slow drizzle now as Jake pulled up behind the Audi parked on the shoulder of the road. Jake kept the engine running, just in case he needed to pull out in a hurry, but he took the gun from Albrecht.