It was Saturday night, and Juan found himself sitting in the director’s office. He hadn’t even had a chance to check into a hotel; when he got off the flight, there had been yet another driver waiting for him, and he was driven straight here.
And then Winslow had told him something he still couldn’t wrap his head around.
“Someone’s using my algorithm to create new species of animals?”
Winslow nodded, a sour expression etched on his craggy face. “I’m afraid so.” He was dressed in khakis and a black polo, and looked somehow less official without his customary suit. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Juan… who else knows about the details of what you’re doing? Specifically, anything about the genetic evolution algorithm.”
Juan considered the question for a moment. “Well, I suppose a lot of people at work know generally what I’m doing, but only two other people have access to the algorithm: Carol, my lab assistant, and Mike Kim, our Stanford intern. Do you think one of them…”
“I don’t know.” Winslow held a pained expression. “The FBI was rather tight-lipped about what they knew. But they did mention the ‘Darwin Algorithm version 3.4.’ Does that ring a bell?”
Juan’s eyes opened wide. “My god. That’s what I call the code that implements my algorithm. Except 3.4 is from about six months ago.” He felt a deep sense of betrayal and anger rise up within him. How dare anyone steal from him? Could Carol or Mike have stolen the algorithm?
Winslow shook his head, and his voice took on a tinge of regret. “I’m afraid that I will have to order polygraph tests be done for everyone at your site—including you. We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”
“I’ll take whatever tests you want. I want to get to the bottom of this more than anyone.”
“Good.” Winslow leaned over and grabbed what looked like a finger-length USB device off his desk. He held it up and said, “The FBI is convinced that someone in AgriMed is stealing our research and selling it to someone. Now, the FBI might be stingy about the details, but they did leave me with some tools to prevent further theft. We’ll need to get you set up with our IT security, but from now on, any access to your files will require multi-factor authentication.”
Juan stared at the director in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Winslow waved the USB stick. “The way it was explained to me was that one side is a normal USB port—you just plug it into your computer. The other side, the one that looks like a flattened thumb grip, is a fingerprint reader. The FBI agents left us an entire case of these with instructions. I’ll have our IT guys program this particular one against your fingerprint, and we’ll get all of your files, including the ones that you had at home, encrypted so they can be unlocked only by someone using one of these decryption dongles.”
“That’s great for electronic files,” Juan said, “but I’ve got lots of my work printed out and not on the computer—”
“And you shouldn’t,” Winslow interrupted. “If you think it’s confidential, you’ll need to transfer it onto the computer and shred the hard copies. An inconvenience, I know, but we can’t take the risk. And that brings me to an important question…”
The tone of Winslow’s voice had changed slightly, and the anger Juan felt at some unnamed person’s betrayal was set aside for the moment as his curiosity was piqued.
“I’ve talked with the board of directors about where your research has been going. I didn’t plan to broach this with you until we got approval for human trials, but—I want to bring your project to headquarters. We have better facilities here, better access to resources in the DC area for what you’ll be doing. So I’m asking if you’re up for living in the DC area.”
Juan considered what that would mean for his work. “I mean, I don’t have any particular issues with moving, but all the lab animals and—”
“Don’t worry about the lab, we’ll take care of all that.” Winslow waved dismissively. “Trust me, I’m going to make this as painless for you as possible. And I’d also like to do this as soon as possible. I’ll contact the HR folks and let them know I’ve approved a complete moving package for you. Just tell them when and where, and they’ll pack your house up and bring everything over.”
“Um, but I do have a lease on my apartment—”
“That’ll be taken care of. Trust me, the company moves folks all the time. With the corporate moving package, you won’t have to worry about anything other than telling the moving company what address to deliver your stuff to. They’ll pack, move, and unpack you.”
“What about Carol, my assistant?”
“Anyone on your team, I’ll make them the same move offer. That is, of course, assuming they pass the polygraph.”
This was all happening so fast, and Juan wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Excited… and also worried. Studying Winslow’s demeanor and facial expression, he felt as though the man was treating him differently than normal. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t being treated like a cog in a wheel, but like someone important. That was a good thing. And yet Juan couldn’t bring himself to fully trust it.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s do this. What’s the next step?”
A broad smile spread across Winslow’s face. He touched a button on his desk phone. A ringing sound broadcast through a speaker on the phone, followed immediately by a man’s voice.
“Yes, sir?”
Juan recognized the voice—it belonged to the driver who had picked him up at his apartment. It was a deep voice befitting the enormity of its owner. The man was easily six foot five and weighed well over two hundred pounds—all chiseled muscle.
“Carl, have you placed Dr. Gutierrez’s things in a secure locker?”
“Of course. It’s all in the security office.”
“Good. Juan and I are almost done here. Get the car warmed up. He’ll be staying at the Ritz on Twenty-Second Street. You know where it is?”
Juan’s eyes widened at mention of the five-star hotel.
“Yes, sir. I’m familiar with it. I’ll pull the car up to the front, be ready in five minutes. Anything else, Dr. Winslow?”
“Juan will also need a pickup at nine in the morning, but other than that, no. That’s it, Carl. Thanks again for understanding and doing this.” Winslow clicked off and turned back to Juan. “Carl is not normally a driver. He’s one of AgriMed’s domestic security folks.”
“That explains it,” Juan said. “If that’s the same guy who brought me here to DC, he doesn’t look like any of the rent-a-cop types we have up in Rochester.”
Winslow laughed and shook his head. “No, indeed. Carl is ex-military. In fact, he’s a former Navy SEAL commander.”
Juan’s cheeks flushed with heat as he felt the pocket knife in his pants pocket. “Oh.”
Winslow stood and motioned for Juan to follow. “Well, let’s get you settled in. I know this has all been rather crazy. For me, too. When the FBI showed up at my house with badges and guns, I nearly shit my pants. I have a lot of explaining to do to my wife when I get back home.”
Juan glanced at Winslow as they hustled through the building, and for the first time, he noticed the man’s worried expression as he relived the FBI’s visit.
Winslow took the lead and pushed open the door at the front of the building. He glanced outside and nodded toward Carl, who was standing at the ready next to a limo. The director turned to Juan and they shook hands. “I’m traveling tomorrow, so I won’t see you, but thanks again for cooperating with me on this situation. We’ll get this under control, I have no doubt.” He patted Juan on the shoulder and said, “Now, get some rest.”
###
Juan found it hard to believe he was relaxing in the plush seat of a limo headed for the Ritz Carlton. If only his mother could see him now.
“So, Carl,” he said. “Dr. Winslow says you’re a former Navy SEAL. Thank you for your service,” he added sincerely.
“No thanks are needed,” the man responded with an unemotional tone. “It’s my privilege to serve my country.”
“Nonetheless, I don’t think people say it enough.” Juan crossed his legs and stared at the back of the burly man’s head. “So, how’d you end up at AgriMed?”
“After my twenty years in the service, I needed a change of pace.” Carl paused, seeming to weigh his words. “And the money, sir. The money was certainly a factor in my decision.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d have figured someone with your skills would be watching over more dangerous situations than the DC metro traffic. You know, something more exciting.”
The limo stopped at a red light and Carl turned and gave Juan a toothy grin. “The traffic is the least of my worries. I’m only called in when someone’s life has been threatened. That’s enough nowadays to keep me on my toes.”
“When someone’s life—” Juan’s pulse quickened. “Wait. Has someone threatened me?”
The light turned green. Carl gave a slight shake of his head, and the limo began gliding through traffic once more.
###
It took Juan three days to clean out the Rochester lab. He hated taking the time away from his research, but Winslow was right—he’d have better resources in DC, and that would make up for the inconvenience.
Plus he was in a good mood because both Carol and Mike had passed their polygraph tests. It had hurt to think that either one of them might have betrayed him.
Unfortunately, he’d had to bid farewell to Mike, the Stanford intern. He’d been offered the moving package, but had declined and had submitted his two weeks’ notice by email. That was a setback—the kid was good—but Juan wasn’t too concerned. Had he lost Carol, that would have been a much larger concern.
“Thanks again for moving with me,” he said to her as they taped up some boxes. “I hope you’re okay with the transfer.”
Carol pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and harrumphed. “I always knew agreeing to work for you would be trouble. I just didn’t know how much.”
Juan glanced at her and frowned. “I’m sorry, I know this must be hard—”
She waved him off. “I’m kidding. The company is buying my shithole of a house for much more than what I could have gotten for it, they’re paying for all my moving expenses, and they’re even flying me out for a ‘house-hunting trip.’ I figure, ‘What the hell, why not?’”
“Well. I’m really glad you’re coming. I’d be lost without you.”
“Oh, shut up, you.” Carol tossed him a sour expression and turned her focus back to taping up a box. “You’re going to make me blush.”
Juan chuckled and felt better about the whole DC trip. It was just the two of them in the lab—Mike had called in sick—and though that wasn’t uncommon, it felt unusually empty. Juan had worked here for the last four years, and now it was just a room full of boxes.
Even though Juan and Carol were the only ones in the lab, he couldn’t escape the sense that someone was eavesdropping. “Carol.” Juan leaned in and spoke softly. “The order for the site-wide polygraph testing is going out tomorrow from the corporate security folks. I want to get all of our stuff squared away and ready by the end of today.”
“Fine.” Carol sighed. “When are they moving everything?”
“As soon I tell them we’re ready, the security guys will get it all out overnight.”
Carol glanced over her right shoulder, toward the room filled with cages. “Even all the specimens?”
“Everything. From what I was told, as soon as they hear from me, they’ll swoop in, gather everything that isn’t nailed down, and then deliver it to the lab in DC tomorrow morning.”
“Jesus H. Christ, they’re not fooling around, are they?”
Carol didn’t know how true that was. Until that limo ride, it had never dawned on Juan that the company needed people like Carl. But evidently, it wasn’t that unusual for executives to receive death threats from environmental crazies or other random zealots.
Climbing off the stool, Juan stretched his legs and shook his head. “No, they’re definitely not. I think they’re very eager to up our security. Not only does the new lab have two layers of physical security,” he held up one of the security dongles, “and these fancy things, I heard a rumor that there’s a level-four biocontainment unit on campus. I’d hate to understand why we’d need such a thing, but nonetheless, I don’t think we’ll have issues getting equipment after our move.”
“Well, I guess I better get this place ready.” Carol sniffed and turned back to the pile of files she was sorting through.
The badge reader beeped, and Steve Chalmers walked into the lab. “Hey Juan, you up for lunch?”
Juan glanced at his watch and hesitated as he looked at the unfinished cleanup of the lab.
“Jeez man, you guys have really tidied up in here.”
Carol glanced at Juan and nodded. “I’ve brown-bagged it, and will work and eat. You go ahead.”
Turning his gaze toward Steve, Juan felt a bit guilty. Per the instructions he’d gotten from the security folks, he’d not told anyone about his move—and especially not about why he was moving. “Where do you want to go?”
Steve ran his hand through his blond, close-cropped hair and said, “How about Toscano’s?”
Juan groaned. “That’s a bit pricey for lunch. I was thinking more like the food trucks down the street.”
Steve gave him a look of mock horror. “How about this: since I’m not in the mood for food poisoning today, I’ll treat.”
Juan laughed. “Then Toscano’s it is.”
###
His stomach full, Juan leaned back and patted his belly. “Damn you, Steve. I’m going to gain five pounds from this meal alone.”
Steve laughed. “Nah, it’s just carbs. You’re still young enough that you’ll just burn it off. And as for me… I need the extra layer of blubber to keep myself warm out here.”
Juan had asked to be seated outside on the restaurant’s patio, over Steve’s objections. Today was warm for December. “You’re just a wimp,” he said. “It’s almost sixty degrees. And besides, you’re only about what, forty-five? That’s only about ten years older than me.”
“Forty-five is practically fifty. I can feel the age hitting me.”
Was that what was bothering him? Though Steve had acted happy enough, Juan couldn’t help but notice that he seemed… strained.
“So,” Juan said. “I haven’t seen much of you around the campus. How goes it on the neurology research front? You’d told me about some big breakthroughs a few years back on your MS research—any new juicy details?”
Steve hesitated. “Oh, it’s going pretty good. Believe it or not, I’ve taken on a bunch of oncology types to further my progress.”
“Oncology? For MS research?”
“Yeah, it’s not as crazy as it sounds. You know that MS is really all about the patient’s immune system having gone awry. The immune system gets confused about who the enemy is and starts attacking the myelin sheaths in the brain.” He tapped the side of his head and continued, “The process I came up with involves giving the patient a brief course of chemotherapy to stimulate stem cell production. We filter their blood, gather the stem cells, and then give the patient a heavy dose of chemo to kill off the malfunctioning immune system. Then we reintroduce their stem cells and reconstruct a new immune system, one that doesn’t have the same malfunctions and leaves the myelin around the neurons intact.”
Juan nodded in understanding. “So, it’s like you’re rebooting their immune system.”
“Exactly!” Steve’s blue eyes flashed with excitement. “It’s been really good at halting the progression in most cases of MS.”
“That’s really cool.”
An awkward silence fell over them. Juan hesitated as he struggled to come up with a way to change the subject. He wasn’t sure if he could lie to his friend about his work, and he already felt like a shit for not telling him that he was moving.
Juan’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. An unrecognized number. “Probably one of those opinion surveys,” he said.
“Yup, I get those all the time. So sick of them.”
But when a short while later, Juan’s phone dinged to indicate he’d received a voicemail, he frowned. “Opinion surveys don’t normally leave messages. Do you mind if I—”
Steve sipped his coffee. “Go ahead and check your message. I’ll just sit here and digest.”
“Thanks.” He pressed the button to retrieve the phone mail and his speaker immediately played a message with a woman’s voice.
“Juan, uh—Dr. Gutierrez? I know how lame it is for me to call you for this, but I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. This is Kathy O’Reilly, you and I had dinner at the Mai Kai.”
Juan’s heart leapt into his throat and he took the phone off speaker, putting it against his ear.
“I know you’re an oncologist, and… well, my father’s been diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer. Our doctors are only talking about hospice care, and I’m hoping there’s something more that’s possible. I know I’m probably just being difficult, but this is my father, and I was wondering if you might be able to give a recommendation for a second opinion or… maybe even any suggestions of your own. If you could let me know, I’d appreciate it. I’m home for winter break and calling from my parents’ phone. The cell phone signal is terrible, so if you can call my parents’ house and ask for me, I’d really, really appreciate it. Um… thanks.”
Juan lowered the phone. He felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. The poor girl.
Steve looked concerned. “Everything okay, Juan? Did someone die?”
“No, but it sounds like they will. A student I got to know over in Georgetown, sounds like her father has a terminal case of cancer. The doctors are already suggesting hospice care, and she’s looking for a second opinion.”
Steve frowned and used his spoon to swirl the melted remnants of his pistachio gelato. “Where’s her father live?”
“She told me he has a ranch in Nevada. Why?”
“That’s perfect! I happen to know about a phase-two clinical trial being administered through the Veterans Administration. They’re looking at treating certain types of metastatic cancer. And guess who knows the trial administrator?” Steve pointed both thumbs at himself.
“Shit, Steve, that would be awesome. Is that part of what you’re working on?”
Steve started to answer, then shook his head. “Let’s just say that I can’t say. But it looks promising.”
Juan actually felt better that Steve couldn’t tell him. If they were both keeping secrets, then they were back on an even footing.
Steve pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper. He scribbled something on it and slid it across the table.
Juan glanced at the paper, smiled, picked up the phone and dialed the missed call.
Kathy answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Kathy, it’s Juan Gutierrez.”
“Oh, thank God you returned my call!” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you before, I just—”
“It’s fine. I’m really sorry to hear about your father and what your family is going through. I know how tough it can be.”
“Thank you. And I know it’s really presumptuous of me to ask, but can you recommend anyone we could go to for a second opinion? My dad is really ornery about the doctors he’s seeing, and if nothing else, I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. You know what I mean?”
“I do. Kathy, what kind of cancer does your father have?”
“Osteosarcoma.”
Juan mouthed the word osteosarcoma at Steve.
Steve smiled and nodded.
“And Kathy, I’m assuming that if the doctors you’re seeing are talking about hospice care, the cancer is metastatic? In other words, the cancer has spread?”
“Yes. Metastatic osteosarcoma. Stage four if that helps.”
Juan held up four fingers to Steve. “It does. Well, I suppose the good news, if there is any, is that I do have a bit more than just a name for you. I know about a clinical trial being administered at the VA in Las Vegas. Your father doesn’t have to be a veteran to take part. Do you think he’d be interested in looking into that?”
“Are you kidding me?” Kathy’s voice quavered. “Yes! Yes, he’ll be very interested. Do you think he could get in? He is a vet. The only reason they didn’t go to the VA already is because they had some long waiting list.”
“Hang on.” Juan cupped his hand over the phone and whispered to Steve. “She’s interested. What are the odds he gets into the trial?”
“If he has stage-four osteosarcoma, he qualifies. And I’ll get him in.” Steve shot him a thumbs-up. “I’ll pull whatever strings I have to. After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do.” Steve began scribbling some information on a scrap of paper.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Juan took his hand off the phone’s mic. “I do think your dad can get in, but don’t get me wrong regarding this trial. I don’t know the full details of the clinical trial, since I was only recently made aware of it.” Juan winked at Steve. “I’ll be honest with you, Kathy: clinical trials can be a godsend or they can be next to useless.”
“No, trust me, I understand.”
“I just wanted to make sure you understood. And Kathy, if he were my father, I’d pull out all the stops, and that includes participating in a trial if it was available. Do you have a paper and pencil?”
Kathy sniffed, cleared her throat, and said, “One sec.”
Juan heard the rustling of paper in the background and a moment later she responded. “Yes, I’ve got paper and pen.”
Juan picked up the paper Steve had scribbled on. “Okay, write this down. The clinical trial administrator is a man named Deidrick Müller. Your father will need to go there in the morning. He’ll probably be forced to read a whole bunch of disclosures and sign a bunch of papers. That’s how these trials work. Do you need the address to the VA?”
“No, my parents have gone there before.” Kathy started to cry. “Juan, thank you so much. I know what the chances are, but just for them… for me to have some hope. I’m really grateful.”
Juan’s throat tightened as Kathy’s emotion got to him. “Listen to me, Kathy. You still have my business card, right?”
“Yes,” Kathy said as she sniffed.
“Please don’t hesitate to call me any time you want. If you have any medical questions, or even just need a shoulder to cry on. Okay?”
“I hope you really mean that, because you might regret saying it.” She laughed, then sniffed again.
Juan noticed that Steve was grinning and making a heart-shaped sign over his chest.
Feeling the heat grow in his cheeks, Juan said. “I do mean it. Now go tell your folks.”
“Mom, wait right there, I’ve got something to tell you. My mom just walked in. Thank you, Juan. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll call you one way or another.”
“I look forward to it.”
As Juan hung up, Steve said, “So, when do I get to meet this young lady who has you so smitten?”
Apparently Juan’s emotions were written all over his face. He threw his cloth napkin at Steve and grumbled, “Shut up.”