"Very good," he said, and put the device back in his case and removed a small silver DVD player. "Can't be too cautious. You have the nondisclosures I faxed you? Excellent. Let's begin, then. I'd like to show you something very exciting.
For the next five minutes the four were glued to the DVD player's seven-inch screen. Nobody said a word; the events playing across the liquid crystal display were words enough for anyone.
After it was done, the Nordic-featured man said, "It could have been faked."
"I assure you, it's absolutely authentic," Berger said. He was unable to keep the small smile off his face. "You've seen some of the initial data in the encrypted files I sent you, but we've kept most of the details back for security purposes. Here's another copy with a bit more revealing information."
He pulled photocopies out of his attache case and handed them to the two men. "Most of the technical readings and results are there, as well as the history of the company. As you can see, we've been at this for quite some time. We have a real expertise in small-molecule design and cell-signaling. It's taken us years, but we feel that we finally have a viable candidate in this particular case to proceed with confidence."
He glanced at Cruz. This was getting beyond his own comfort zone. It was time for the technical side of the house to take over.
She stepped in smoothly. "The building blocks of life," Cruz said. "DNA gives way to genes, genes give way to proteins. Proteins are the worker bees, you see. To unlock the greatest secrets of mankind, all we have to do is figure out how and why these proteins do their jobs. Then we can decide how we can make them work for us." She tapped a graphic in the file the Asian man held open in his hands. "Our research is focused on discovering and developing these small-molecule drugs my colleague has referred to, those that can regulate cell-signaling and gene expression. But it's not a simple thing to do. First, you need to understand how the human machine is built. As you probably know, the most critical processes of life--metabolism, cell growth and differentiation, gene transcription--are handled by signals carried from the cell surface to the nucleus through a system of molecular pathways. Are we okay so far?"
The two men nodded at her.
"Good. We understand quite a bit about some of these genes' proteins and pathways, but others are still a mystery. In fact, most of the genes in the human DNA strand do not seem to serve any apparent purpose at all. We call them dormant or junk. Some scientists believe that they function in a way we don't yet understand, or they served an important purpose somewhere back along the evolutionary chain but are now simply residual, the equivalent of male nipples.
"Then, of course, there are the subtle differences that make us unique from each other. These are the genes that belong to only you"--she nodded at the Nordic man--"or you." She smiled warmly at the Asian, who seemed to be drifting. "Or more specifically, to your family. There aren't many that are different. We're all pretty much the same animal."
Berger made a subtle cutting motion with his hand. "This is all very interesting," he said. "Would you talk a bit, please, about the opportunity we're offering?"
"Almost there, thanks. I was about to tell these gentlemen about the psi gene."
A silence descended upon the group. "Please go on," the Asian man said. Now she had his attention. Suddenly she had everyone's attention.
"We've discovered a particular subject--the subject you just viewed on that video--who was born with a rather remarkable gene. This gene, which is either dormant or does not exist at all in most people, actually produces a protein, which acts in a particular way, on a particular cellular path. This mechanism of action has to do with the transfer of heat at a microscopic level, and it allows the subject to influence her natural environment physically through thought."
"Amazing," the Nordic man said. "The psi gene, you say?"
"From the word psychic. Psi encompasses a lot of different things--telepathy, clairvoyance, psychic healing, precognition, to name only a few. But what we're concerned with here is what's commonly called psychokinesis--"
"I'm not sure I understand," the Asian man interrupted. "What exactly are you offering us?"
Berger motioned for Cruz to sit. "The investment opportunity of a lifetime," he said. "The possibilities here are limitless--literally as far as your imagination can reach. Government and military applications, certainly. But medical, corporate, and even nonprofit entities could benefit tremendously. This is, quite literally, a revolution waiting to happen. But to get there, we're going to need more capital. Research and development is tremendously expensive, as you both know."
He took out another two packets from his case and handed them to the men across the table. "This will explain in greater detail what we're going to do, and what we need from you. I'll talk about that in a moment. But first, I want to show you one more video clip. This one is a little more . . . impressive. I think it will give you a good idea why we're so excited about this opportunity."
Steven Berger flipped open the little screen once again. The small party gathered around it to watch.
This was Berger's favorite part. He kept stealing glances at the two men, at their faces, full of wonder, awe, and disbelief. Even Cruz was riveted, though she'd seen it many times before.
The scene played out across the little screen. Nobody spoke, moved, even breathed until it was over.
After another five minutes the screen went black. They sat back in silence for a long moment.
"Take this information back to your people," Berger said quietly. He handed both of them a Helix business card with his name and private contact information across the front. "We'll be entertaining partnership offers from as many as seven major players." He let the pause go just long enough, waited for the beat. "I'll begin the bidding at five hundred million."
Across the table, Cruz tore off a fresh piece of bread. Smiling to herself in satisfaction, she bit into it with a vengeance.
--17--
Sarah awoke with a scream lodged thickly in her throat. It had come again, the dream that used to plague her night after night. The howling machines with metal tubes and wires swarming across her face, webbing pinning her down, the smell of metal and burning flesh. Needles dripping clear fluid. The screams. Darkness, and she was lost! It was hot, so hot she was gasping for air, and she knew she had brought this upon herself, that she was the cause of the burning.
Dream images faded into a pattern of pink, swirling dots. She swallowed and blinked, fighting against the fear that rose up inside, fighting against her own mind. / know where I am. I'm in my room. Not in the bad place.
But how could she know for sure? The room was pitch-black when she slept. They had kept it that way on purpose to punish her at first, and as she slid deeper into her own private darkness they hadn't bothered to change things. Not that it would have mattered then.
But her world had shifted now with all the swiftness of a flash flood. She thought of the woman who had been coming to see her, and it gave her heart a forgotten surge of hope. She allowed herself a moment to wonder what it might be like to be normal. But what did that really mean? To be like the others she used to know before the gray fog came, Aimee who talked to herself and Shawn who picked his hands until he bled?
No. They were different too.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight and waited for the voices, but they did not come. Her mind had been unusually clear lately; she could function without the fog creeping up on her, and that made her feel uneasy. She was not used to such freedom, such long stretches where she had nothing but her own thoughts as entertainment. Maybe she should start taking the pills again? What would they do to her? Would they stop having to give her the shots? Would she have to go back to the bad place?