Nathan could have done as some did: played golf and fucked every woman he could. And there was no shortage of them to be found at Stein, Gelb and every other firm in the neighborhood. He might have paid little or no attention to the real business of business. Tom often wondered how some men could squander opportunity in such a manner. “Good Christ,” he thought. Had he been fortunate enough to be a son-of or grandson-of, he would surely have done what Nathan Stein did. He would have grabbed that golden ring in his cradle and… just give me the chance! Tom wished. He didn’t know him personally, but he admired Nathan Stein. What he didn’t know was that Nathan Stein admired him.
Nathan didn’t have big dreams. He had big plans. He knew, and so did Tom Maloney, the difference between the two. Anyone could dream. Only the powerful could make plans. And Nathan had every reason to believe he would bring his to fruition right on schedule. After all, his name was on the door. He viewed Stein, Gelb, Hector amp; Wills Securities as the major leagues, the NFL, and he saw the rest of the financial world as his farm system, his own private version of college football. He scouted, spotted talent, watched it develop and mature, then drafted accordingly. Although Maloney didn’t know it, Nathan had his eyes on Tom for a while. Maloney was a definite first-round draft choice.
“Maloney,” said Nathan Stein, maneuvering his way next to the big Irishman. He stuck out his hand. “Nathan Stein.”
Tom said, “Good to meet you. I’m Tom Maloney.”
“I know who you are and you’ve no idea how good it is… for you.”
“Beg your pardon?” The bar was very noisy and the two had to shout at each other only inches apart to be heard. “What?”
“Come see me tomorrow, early as possible,” said Stein, handing Tom his card. “You’re coming to work for me.”
“I am?”
“Give them your notice, Tom. We’ll work it out in the morning.” Then Nathan Stein looked into Tom Maloney’s eyes in the way only the wealthy can when they see someone who is not, someone who has just hit the jackpot. “You’re a rich man now, Tom.”
That memory ran through Tom’s mind as he kneaded Nathan’s shoulder gently and looked at the lovely Indian woman. He said, “Dr. Roy, if you please, start from the beginning.”
“Yes, thank you Mr. Maloney. I shall.”
She’d stayed up all night fine-tuning her notes, preparing several dozen flip charts framing brightly printed words, illustrations, and simple diagrams. She referred to these as she went along.
“Bacteria,” she began, “is the dominant life form on earth. I’m sure you all know that cockroaches and sharks have remained essentially unchanged for hundreds of millions of years. They are newcomers, I assure you. Bacteria have been here for billions of years and will be here for billions more. Oh, yes! When our planet is only dead rock it will teem with bacteria. They will have evolved, mutated, no matter the conditions. Imagine a life form so quick to protect its own interest that when you kill it you instantly make its kind stronger, the more difficult to kill again. The more ways you find to kill it, the stronger you help it to be. Bacteria as a life form is impervious to destruction.”
She paused very briefly to gauge the room. They might be masters of money, but they were now her students. Even this disordered Stein could not resist the music in her voice, or the menace in her words.
“Did you know that NASA has tested the viability of bacteria during interplanetary travel? A species of bacteria called Bacillus subtilis withstood the rigors of space trapped in an absolute vacuum for more than six years. It emerged alive, and, as it were, ready for action.”
She flipped the NASA experiment chart over.
“And here on earth,” she continued, energized by the concentration flowing to her, “you know all about the Great Plague of the fourteenth century. Did you also know Napoleon lost an army of twenty thousand in Haiti without a single battle? Did you know twenty million died in the year 1918 from influenza? Imagine that. What we cannot imagine are all the plagues over millions of years, all the millions of humans, pre-humans, non-humans taken with none to remember and none to record.”
She took a slow, deep breath through her nose, exhaling from her mouth. It satisfied her like iced lemonade on a hot, dry day. But the ecstasy she felt was in the teaching.
“Now,” said Ganga Roy, “let us think about E. coli.”
She explained that as bacterial cells are everywhere, many will, in the normal course of their travels, acquire genetic information from various sources. The flip chart listed these sources: bacterial viruses, plasmids, slices or chunks of DNA floating around and about.
“By chance or purpose, bacteria have the knack of continuous self-improvement. They pick up information. This information may come in handy. It may help them survive, which is all that they really care about. The term ‘E. coli’ describes a group of bacteria. And that, I fear, brings us to the very unfortunate connection between E. coli and human beings.”
The next sheet contained a blue-bordered box, surrounded by an attractive swirl of multi-colored dots. Inside it she had artfully printed these bright red letters and numerals: O157: H7
“This,” said Dr. Roy, “is the primary cause of danger to humans emanating from the E. coli world. How has it become such a dangerous organism? Long ago a single cell acquired a bacterial virus, a virus adapted to life within bacterial organisms. This particular virus had the ability to insert its own DNA into the bacteria’s chromosome without harming the bacterium, and it did, remaining there over the countless generations ever since. Each time this bacterial cell divides, the virus DNA, which is now part of the bacterial DNA, is part of every succeeding cell. These daughter cells of the originally infected bacterium constitute the E. coli strain of which we speak: O157: H7.” She decided to skip the E. coli testing process-the agar and sorbitol and smack-leave it for later, avoid another outburst. At this point she could not imagine it helping the flow. Briefly, she checked the group. She wanted no loose ends distracting them now. Nathan Stein obliged her with a swagger. “So all of these E. coli come from the first one.”
“Precisely,” she said, rewarding him with her first unguarded smile. “Much to our distress as human beings, this virus’s genetic information-the virus that is now inseparable from the bacteria-contains instructions for the production of a toxin, or poison, which is called ‘Shiga-like toxin’ or ‘SLT,’ also called ‘Vero toxin.’” By now they were all taking notes, except Tom Maloney.
As her next flip chart illustrated, “Our friend the E. coli O157: H7 has no choice at all but to produce this toxin. Why is that bad for us?” she asked Nathan Stein, paying him the improbable courtesy of suggesting that he might know. “The toxin is a protein,” she said. “That protein can cause severe damage to intestinal epithelial cells-cells that line the wall of the gut.”