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isn't much different from ordinary tap water. But the transgenic bodies are
present exclusively in the Lubec Springs samples you brought in."
Mark didn't need to hear more. He grabbed the phone from the desk. Shielding
it with his body, he stabbed the 1 button repeatedly. Smith picked up on the
first ring.
"Report," the CURE director announced crisply. "It's only the Lubec Springs
water that's affected," Mark said quickly. "All the other samples are clean."
"They are certain?" Smith pressed.
Mark turned to Dr. Mills. "Any chance-any at all-you could be mistaken?" he
demanded.
The geneticist shook his head. "No, sir," he replied. "We knew what to look
for. The other samples were clear."
Mark turned back to the phone. "He said-"
"I heard," Smith interrupted. "This limits our focus. I will dispatch Remo and
Chiun to Maine at once. Report back here immediately. Tell the staff there to
remain. We will coordinate to get more samples to them just in case."
"Gotcha. I'll be back soon." He returned the phone to its cradle and grabbed
up his suit jacket from a nearby chair. "We need you to stay at work, Doctor,"
Mark said as he shrugged on his coat. "We only brought you a random sampling
for testing. We'll be shipping some more. With any luck, your findings will
hold. Thanks for your help."
Dr. Mills offered a nervous grin. "Thank you for the chance," he said. "Our
molecular biologists are fascinated. None of them were around the first time.
You know, Boston, 1978. And the BostonBio research data from a few years ago
was confiscated by the government I think. I've heard it's surfaced on the
Internet, but I wouldn't trust anything I found on Usenet. Basically, what
I've heard up until today has been largely speculation and scientific
hearsay."
The geneticist was still smiling with nervous excitement. Mark Howard did not
return the smile. "You'll forgive me, Doctor, if I don't share your
enthusiasm," he said, surprised at the coldness in his own voice. "We'll get
those fresh samples to you as quickly as we can. Excuse me."
As Howard brushed past him, Dr. Mills's smile faded.
"I-I didn't mean..." he stammered. "I'm sorry. Anyway, the FBI shouldn't be
too worried. Much of the material in the Lubec batch was already inert."
At the door, Mark stopped. "Inert?"
"Dead." Mills nodded. "It's still detectable, but the stuff is dying. It's
more potent than the original batch from the seventies-at least from what we
can tell-but it's weaker than the BostonBio stuff from three years ago."
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Mark's brow dropped low. "It's been altered?"
"As far as we can tell, yes. We haven't cracked all the codes yet, obviously.
That could take months or years. But it's definitely not the same stuff
according to everything I've ever read on the subject. The biggest change is
from the BostonBio batch. The mutational effect of that stuff was permanent.
This is only temporary."
Mark was trying to wrap his brain around this. There had been cases of
gene-altering material stolen from BostonBio three years ago. He and Dr. Smith
had assumed this was what they were dealing with. But substantial changes to
the formula meant one thing: access to a lab.
"How temporary are the effects?" Mark asked.
"Ooo, not sure," Dr. Mills said. "Without an undiluted sample of the actual
formula and subjects to test it on, I can't say for certain. But based on past
cases, probably two weeks. Maybe three. Of course, they can be reexposed to
the formula, extending the duration of change."
Howard nodded. "Thank you again, Doctor," he said. Turning, he headed out into
the hall.
He was only a few doors along when Dr. Mills called after him.
"Mr. Marx!"
Howard almost forgot his cover name. When he turned, Dr. Mills was leaning
into the hall.
"I think you should see this," he called worriedly. Mark hurried back up the
hall. Inside the office, Dr. Mills was pointing to the small television. On
the screen, the entertainment program had fed into the news.
A female reporter stood on a rural road. Behind her, a group of protesters
marched back and forth carrying large signs. The slogans H-2-No!, Water We
Fighting For! and S.O.L: Save Our Leech were printed in bold letters.
Mark didn't know why the geneticist had called him back. He was about to ask
when the reporter began speaking. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
