The Genesis Code (5 page)

Dr. Christian Madison’s Office
34th Floor, Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

“No. Stop it. Stop it.” Quiz frantically rubbed the palm of his right hand with the thumb of his left. His fingers curled inward in a contorted muscle spasm.

“What is it?” asked Grace.

Beads of sweat popped out on Quiz’s forehead. The color drained from his face.

“Your pills,” Madison prompted.

Quiz dug in his pocket for the plastic prescription vial. He struggled to remove the cap, finally wrenching it free and spilling dozens of tiny blue pills to the floor. With a trembling finger, he fished out one caplet and popped it in his mouth, swallowing hard.

Grace’s eyes grew wide. “What’s happening?”

“He’s having another seizure,” said Madison.

“They always start like this,” said Quiz, grimacing in pain. “My hand twists up. God, that hurts…”

“You need to sit down,” said Madison, rising from his chair. “Grace, can you—”

Grace took Quiz by the arm, leading him to one of two chairs parked in front of Madison’s desk.

The memory of Quiz’s first seizure six weeks ago flashed in Madison’s mind. Madison had stopped by Quiz’s office one morning with a sack of onion bagels and cream cheese and found him lying on the floor in the throes of a full grand mal attack. Madison would never forget the look of sheer terror in Quiz’s eyes as he lay helpless on the concrete floor, his limbs jerking and twitching uncontrollably.

Quiz closed his eyes. Cold sweat trickled down his face. His breath came in short gasps.

“Breathe, Stefan,” urged Grace.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” asked Madison.

Quiz shook his head. “No…I think it’s easing up.”

Slowly his breathing returned to normal and the muscles in his fingers and hand began to relax.

“Thank God for Depakote,” he said.

“I didn’t know you had epilepsy,” said Grace.

“I didn’t either. At least until last month. If Madison hadn’t been there to call 911…”

“What did the doctors say?”

“Adult-onset epilepsy. Unknown cause. These pills really seem to help,” he said, shaking the prescription vial. “No driving for at least six months. That’s state law. Other than that, take my meds and try to avoid stress,” said Quiz.

“Not much chance of that around here,” said Madison, smiling.

“No,” said Quiz. “No, I suppose not.” He sighed.

“Grace, I’d rather that people didn’t know about this,” said Quiz. “I don’t feel comfortable with—”

There was a loud knock at the door.

Before Madison could respond, his office door swung open. An enormous black man, with a shaved head and barrel chest, filled the doorway. His eyes scanned the room.

Dr. Christian Madison’s Office
34th Floor, Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

“Pardon the interruption, Dr. Madison,” said Omar Crowe, Triad Genomics’ chief of security. He spoke the Queen’s English with a proper British accent.

As he scanned the room, his eyes lingered on Quiz.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked.

Crowe towered over the office’s occupants. The top of his shaved head barely cleared the door frame. Powerful shoulders and thick musculature strained the seams of his navy-blue blazer, adorned with the Triad Genomics logo on its breast pocket.

Quiz nodded.

“Yes,” said Madison. “Everything’s fine. Why?”

Crowe ignored the question.

“Dr. Madison, will you come with me, please?”

An alarm sounded from the intercom speakers mounted in the ceiling of Madison’s office. The three shrill electronic warbles were followed by a voice.

“Attention, please. May I have your attention. Triad Genomics is now operating under a level-one security lockdown. External communications are now prohibited. Please return to your stations and await further instructions.”

The computer on Madison’s desk chirped and text began scrolling up the screen.

“Another security drill? We just had one last week,” said Quiz.

“Quiz, Dr. Nguyen, please return to your offices.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell us what this is about,” said Grace.

Crowe retrieved what appeared to be a small cell phone from the inside pocket of his blazer. He punched three buttons and spoke into the receiver.

“Mr. Occam, please report to Dr. Madison’s office to escort Dr. Grace Nguyen to her workstation.”

Ignoring Grace’s protests, Crowe turned to Quiz.

“Will you require an escort as well?”

Quiz shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Crowe placed the phone back in his pocket.

“Dr. Madison, will you come with me, please.”

It was not a request.

Dr. Christian Madison’s Office
34th Floor, Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York

“We’re not going to the executive suite?” Madison asked his burly escort.

“No,” Crowe replied. “Mr. Giovanni is waiting for you at Dr. Ambergris’ office.”

Dante Giovanni and Joshua Ambergris were the original founding partners of Triad Genomics. Ambergris directed the genetic research that led to the successful completion of the Human Genome Project, but it was Giovanni who brought the financial acumen and business connections to the company, shepherding it from its humble beginnings as a fledgling start-up to a multibillion-dollar IPO. Dante Giovanni was Triad Genomics’ CEO and chairman of the board.

They rounded a corner in the maze of hallways on the thirty-fourth floor and Madison spotted Giovanni standing in the hallway outside of Dr. Ambergris’ corner office. He spoke in clipped sentences to a young female security officer. She dashed off down the hall to carry out her instructions.

Dante Giovanni was, as always, an impressive sight. He was perfectly coiffed and manicured, as if he had just come from a press conference. With a full head of graying hair and two rows of pearly white teeth, Giovanni embodied the stereotypical image of the corporate CEO.

He gripped Madison’s hand in a firm handshake and clasped Madison’s elbow with his other hand in the familiar politician’s gesture.

“Dr. Madison. Thank you for coming. I’m afraid I have some grave news.”

Madison waited expectantly.

“Dr. Ambergris is dead. He was found in his office, at his desk, this morning.”

Madison stared in stunned silence.

“What? That can’t be. He was in good health. You must be mistaken.”

“No. There’s no mistake,” said Giovanni. “Dr. Madison, Joshua Ambergris was murdered.”

Madison’s brain refused to process the information.

“What?”

Giovanni placed a hand against Ambergris’ office door and pushed it open. The room was in complete disarray. Papers and books were scattered everywhere. On the floor beside the massive desk, a white sheet covered Ambergris’ still form.

“My god,” said Madison. His heart pounded in his ears.

Crowe displayed no emotional reaction. His expression remained stoic, poker-faced and unrevealing. But Madison noticed that his left hand was tightly clenched in a fist.

“How did this happen?” asked Madison. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” said Giovanni, placing a hand on Madison’s shoulder. “But we’re going to find out.”

63rd Floor, Petronas Towers
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Until 1996, the world’s tallest skyscraper had always been in the United States. But the completion of Kuala Lumpur’s twin eighty-eight-story buildings, the Petronas Towers, ended America’s claim to that title. On April 15, 1996, the Petronas Towers became the tallest skyscrapers in the world. Surpassing Chicago’s Sears Tower by thirty-six feet, the Petronas Towers were a tribute to Malaysia’s emerging economic might, and to Kuala Lumpur’s prominence as a commercial and cultural capital.

The uniquely Malaysian architecture of the dual skyscrapers, with their elegant proportions and design, captured the attention of the world. Each tower’s floor plan forms an eight-pointed star created by two intersecting squares, a design that evokes Islamic arabesques and repetitive geometric figures characteristic of Muslim architecture. Curved and pointed bays create a scalloped facade that suggests the form of ancient temple towers.

The two towers, joined by a skybridge on the forty-second floor, have been described as two cosmic pillars spiraling endlessly toward the heavens. For Malaysian industrialist and billionaire Kai Tanaka, the Petronas Towers were a fitting location to showcase the headquarters of his growing business empire.

One entire wall of Tanaka’s opulently furnished executive office suite on the sixty-third floor was covered from floor to ceiling with a massive LCD screen divided into a grid of boxes, each displaying the real-time digital image of a participant in the videoconference that was under way.

Arrayed around the room, museum-quality pieces from ancient human civilizations were illuminated in eerie blue light from xenon spotlights in climate-controlled glass display cases.

A Sumerian tablet.

A Mayan stela.

An Egyptian ankh.

An Assyrian sculpture of two intertwined serpents.

Tanaka paced the length of his plush office, speaking in a commanding voice to the group.

“Gentlemen,” he began. “The threat has been eliminated. Our agent was successful in his assignment.”

He paused to allow for the slight delay in transmission created by the use of sophisticated encryption software. Relief at Tanaka’s announcement was evident on many of the faces displayed on the videoconference screen.

“Unfortunately, our agent was unable to access the Triad Genomics’ mainframe. We cannot be certain that evidence of the discovery does not remain on the company’s computer system.”

Tanaka paused.

“The good doctor was remarkably uncooperative when questioned before his untimely demise. He displayed an unforeseen resistance to our man’s…novel techniques of persuasion.”

An older man with a leathery face addressed the group.

“So we have accomplished little and created much additional risk. This is precisely why I was opposed to such an action.”

Tanaka fixed his gaze firmly on the reticent man.

“This was the will of the Order. You were all aware of the potential risks. The Order has killed many times before to prevent the discovery of our secrets. Those who came before us eliminated many scholars and students of history who stumbled upon fragments of the truth. It is necessary.”

Tanaka spread out his hands in front of him.

“Our first attempt to suppress the truth in this instance was simply incomplete. We only have to finish the job. In a more…shall we say…thorough manner.”

“Meaning?”

“First, the Triad Genomics computer server must be neutralized.”

“What do you propose? A computer virus? A fire?”

“No. That will not be sufficient,” said Tanaka.

He sat down on a steel and leather chair and folded his hands in his lap.

“Our agent was unable to extract from Dr. Ambergris whether or not he communicated his discoveries to any of his colleagues. We cannot afford the possibility that our secrets have been revealed to others within the Triad Genomics group.”

Tanaka’s thin lips parted in a malevolent smile.

“We must employ more extreme measures.”

Room 714, United Nations Plaza Hotel
Manhattan, New York

Arakai sipped from a small teacup. The faint aroma of green tea reminded him of home. He stared out the long window in his room at the UN Plaza Hotel. Across the street, the sprawling United Nations complex overlooked the East River.

We the Peoples of the United Nations, United for a Better World
…

The towering UN Secretariat Building dominated the United Nations campus in New York. Its narrow end walls rose like sheer white cliffs. The long sides of the structure were clad in green-tinted glass curtains.

We the Peoples of the United Nations, determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war
…

The light blue UN flag flapped in the wind….
to maintain international peace and security, and to that end, to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace
…

Arakai reflected on the flag’s design: a map of the world, inscribed in white and gold within a wreath, an equidistant projection of the earth centered on the North Pole on a field of light blue.

Turning away from the window, Arakai sat cross-legged on the floor of his hotel room. From his pocket, he retrieved a silver coin. Flexing his fingers with great dexterity, Arakai coaxed the coin into performing numismatic acrobatics, dancing across his knuckles.

Two additional silver coins joined the first in the palm of his left hand.

Arakai closed his eyes and prepared to begin divination of the Taoist oracle, the
I Ching
. He wrote out a single question on a tablet of white paper.

Images from Arakai’s childhood passed through his mind. His grandfather had taught him the secrets of the
I Ching
when Arakai was a child. He remembered his grandfather’s words:

The
I Ching,
the
Book of Changes,
is the oldest of the classic texts. It is the ancient system of cosmology and philosophy at the heart of our beliefs.

Arakai cast the coins in the air.

Each moment of his past and the myriad possibilities of the future all came together in one single moment of time, joining in a complex web of synchronicity to divine a precise insight from the
I Ching.
The coins fell silently on the thickly carpeted floor. Arakai wrote down the orientation of the coins on his tablet.

Nine more tosses of the coins completed a six-line hexagram.

The voice of Arakai’s grandfather echoed in his head.

With six such lines stacked from bottom to top in each hexagram, there are sixty-four possible combinations that can result from each divination.

Sixty-four possible combinations.

As Arakai had recently been taught, there are extraordinary similarities that link the ancient knowledge of the
I Ching
to contemporary knowledge of the structure of human DNA. All human DNA is constructed from four genetic letters, each representing an amino acid. These genetic letters are grouped together in sets of three called codons. In human DNA, there are sixty-four different codons.

Sixty-four
.

Sixty-four possible combinations in the
I Ching.

Sixty-four possible combinations in human DNA.

Arakai immediately recognized the configuration of the hexagram.

Sung. Conflict.

He consulted a thin, worn book—the
Book of Changes
—and read the appropriate passage.

Arakai’s consciousness filled with serenity. The oracle was clear. He knew what he must do.