evening,” he said quietly, almost to himself. And then, “You really think we’ve got things moving in the right direction again, eh?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“So you can assure all of us that there won’t be any more… accidents?”
Instead of answering immediately, the blonde woman turned and stared back out at the water. “Did you know that when a person breaks his neck,” she said finally, “the severed nerves don’t actually die? They form this scab called a growth cone, and that cone pushes ahead like a blind man trying to find his way in the dark, fumbling around with these tiny strands called philipodia. Eventually these strands come up against a barrier and just stop. They’re at a dead end, and so it goes. Our friend remains in a wheelchair, drooling across his lap. But the potential is always there, waiting to be tapped.”
“So how do scientists help give the philipodia a helping hand?”
“They’ve recently discovered that the key is very likely a group of proteins called EPH.”
“Always proteins,” Berger muttered. “You’d think we could just eat a steak dinner and be done with it.”
Cruz didn’t seem to notice him as she continued. “Different EPH proteins either attract or repel nerve strands, and in that way they help guide the philipodia along. So what if you could get rid of the particular version of EPH protein that repels or blocks nerves? Well, scientists at Melbourne have tried it, and guess what? Mice with broken backs are jumping up and down five weeks later. Nerves have completely regrown. It’s a miracle.”
“Yes, yes,” Berger said. “A miracle indeed!” He often got caught up in the woman’s enthusiasm in spite of himself; she was breathtaking in her passion for science and the infinite possibility of mankind.
“Jesus healed the sick, walked on water, rose from the dead,” she said, turning back with her sharp predator’s eyes gleaming. “At the same time, a giant ball of flame rose each day in the east, and then fell again in the west. Who’s to say which is the more significant event? Why is one considered miraculous, the other accepted as scientific just because we understand the mechanics of it? My point is, it’s possible to perform many so-called miracles, if we understand the mechanism of action.”
“Ah, I see. But some might say that the intentions of God are not for man to discover these things. That we are going down a path that can only mean our ruin.”
“Small minds,” Cruz said.
Berger chuckled. “Perhaps they possess too much of the bad sort of EPH. You’re not going to get too philosophical with our guests when they arrive? I don’t think my heart can take the suspense.”
A knock on the door and the drinks were brought in on a silver tray, along with bread and a bottle of chilled wine.
They held their tongues for the waiter to leave. “No,” Cruz said, after the door had closed with a soft click. “I’ll try to keep it as straightforward as possible. Small minds, as you say.”
“Let me ask this once more. If we begin the testing again, you’ll have total control?”
“This is the tightest molecule we’ve ever designed. Think of it like a thermostat, giving us the ability to dial things up from zero to a hundred, and back down again. It’s an excellent candidate. I believe we’re starting some extensive testing tonight, perhaps even as we speak.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Berger said. “Now, the key elements here are to make them understand what we’ve discovered, the data we already have, and the breakthrough we’ve experienced recently. I want them to see the potential. So don’t get preachy. These people are simply interested in the bottom line.”
“You’re the expert in that,” Cruz said. She picked up a small loaf of dark bread and ripped it in half, dipping a chunk into a bowl of garlic oil. The smell was delicious. She hadn’t eaten since that morning, and now she attacked the bread like piranha in blood-threaded water.
A few minutes later the others in the party arrived; first an older man with Nordic features and a slight limp, then an Asian carrying a small, wrapped gift, which he handed to Berger with a nod and a smart bow. They all made small talk while the two waiters took drink orders, and then they sat down for dinner.
The meal began with a mesclun salad with grilled fruit and edible flowers, and then a small pumpkin-curry soup, followed by a very rare filet served with a garlic butter sauce, asparagus almondine and wild rice, and finally a black plum sorbet. The party ate with enthusiasm, remarking on the weather in this part of the country, and the situation in the Middle East, and the state of airline travel. The waiters came and went, bringing fresh drinks.
Finally the meal was complete. “Please excuse me,” Berger said to the others.
He got up and went to the waiter at the door. “We’re about to engage in something more confidential now,” he said. “Please, do not disturb us until I call you. And lock the door.”
After the waiter had left, Berger went to his attaché’ case and removed a small black device. He scanned the table and chair legs, moving carefully around the personal spaces of his guests, then went to the window and traced a pattern around the edges. Finally he examined the potted plants, and the door frame.
“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 attaché 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.