The Miracle Strain (24 page)

Then Alex's scholastic tones cut through the awkward silence. "It's probably a stupid question, But could the genes you're looking for have different stop and start codons--ones that DAN doesn't recognize?"

Tom looked at Jasmine and could see she was thinking the same thing. It was a stupid question; one that no self-respecting geneticist who knew the first thing about the all-powerful Genescope would ask. Which was exactly why Tom didn't dismiss it.

"But how can we find the new stop and start codons?" asked Jasmine as if reading his mind.

"We could try homology," said Bob Cooke. "But we'd need a different stretch of DNA containing the same genes."

"Homology?" asked Alex.

"Yeah," said Tom. "DAN can search two stretches of DNA and try to find a long sequence of letters that is identical in each. The odds of this sequence being a gene are very high. We then take its first and last letter combinations and Bingo! We've found our new stop and start codons."

"But we do need a second stretch of different DNA that contains one or more of these genes," reminded Jasmine.

"What about that genome you found on IGOR when you were looking at the genes of faith healers?" asked Tom, desperate to try anything. "What's his name? The Brit who was cremated last year; the one who could ease rheumatoid arthritis with his hands."

Jasmine turned to the PC on the workstation next to DAN and punched the keyboard with nimble fingers. "Anderson, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Run an accelerated homology study on him and the Christ genome."

Jasmine's fingers moved again. "It's done. I've given DAN all the data and it should give us an answer in the next few minutes."

It took only four and a half minutes for DAN to announce that both genomes shared an identical sequence of fifty-seven thousand base letters, and that the projected stop and start codons were each nine letters long--GCCTGACCG to open the reading frame and TCGAGGTAC to close it. It took Jasmine less than thirty seconds to recalibrate DAN to search the total Christ genome for genes between these new brackets.

There followed a pause of some minutes in which Tom heard no sound, not even a breath from the others.

Then DAN spoke. "One extra gene found outside the humangenome on the paternal copy of chromosome 7."

Numbers danced across the screen, and this time Tom's eyes danced with them. He was finally seeing evidence of what he'd only hoped for till now.

DAN made a sound as if clearing his throat and spoke again.

"One extra gene found outside the human genome on the paternal copy of chromosome 10."

Two genes. There were two genes. He couldn't wait to ask DAN what they coded for, but before he could speak the Genescope began to growl, as if trying to think through a particularly difficult problem. And when it spoke again Tom fancied he heard surprise in its metallic monotone.

"Third gene found in paternal copy of chromosome 18. No moregenes outside the human genome."

Tom felt a sudden rush of relief and elation, his disappointment forgotten. The owner of the tooth possessed three genes that most--if not all--other humans did not. He looked around him and caught the look on Jasmine's face. The others had similar expressions of silent shock on their faces.

It was Jack who spoke first. "What do these genes do?" he asked. "Are they worth getting excited about?"

"Let's find out." Tom turned to the Genescope and said, "DAN, please estimate the function of these new genes."

The Genescope's growl lowered in tone, and the lights on the ovoid body blinked. Then the growl returned to its normal pitch. "Initial extrapolation of coded amino acids indicate that the geneon chromosome 7 should code for proteins with DNA and cell repair capability. The gene on chromosome 10 has a cell controlfunction. The third gene on chromosome 18 is too complex to giveany initial indication of function. These are only estimates basedon supplied data. Laboratory confirmation is necessary."

Bob Cooke looked at Tom, his eyes wide with the possibilities. "Incredible. The first gene can make or repair DNA. And the second can control cell growth. Perhaps they're smart genes--one acting as a cell accelerator and the other a brake on proliferation. Together they could check the fluctuations in the rest of the genome."

"If DAN's extrapolation is correct," cautioned Jasmine.

"Of course," said Tom, waving away her concerns. "We'd need to check the findings in the lab, and we've still got to find out what the third gene does. But if they are smart genes controlling the rest of his DNA, that would explain why Jesus' genome was so healthy. Perhaps they gave him a superior immune system?"

"One he could pass on to others?" chipped in Bob with an excited grin.

Tom smiled. "Well now, that's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. That's what we need to find out in the lab." He suddenly thought of Ezekiel. "Jazz, will we able to find a match on IGOR with these genes?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Should be able to. It'll take time to recalibrate the database to the new stop and start codons but we already know that Keith Anderson had one of the genes. So sure, if a match exists on IGOR, then we might find a live one eventually with all three."

Tom walked over to the virtual reality headset protruding from the beak of the Genescope. "Let's take a closer look at the genes. DAN, give me eye presentation." He felt the others crowd around him as he donned the headset. But they were soon forgotten as he concentrated on his journey into inner space. First he saw darkness, then the whole cell appeared below and around him. All the chromosomes, like continents of varying shapes, shimmered in their splendid hues. He knew the colors came from the magnetized dyes, but they made the spectacle seem more, not less real.

"Give me chromosome 7," he ordered DAN. "And take me to chromosome level resolution."

Immediately the scene in front of him shifted down to an even greater spectrum of colors. He was now focused solely on one chromosome and the DNA string of life contained within it. It was beautiful. His eye traveled along the rainbow spiral staircase of the double helix. He watched the magnetized dyes highlight the different nucleotide pairs, making the DNA strands stand out in 3-D. The new gene was stretched out before him, and just the sight made his chest tighten with excitement. This was one strip of the programming responsible for the development of the most famous and influential man who'd ever lived: Jesus Christ. And he, an atheist, was the first man alive to see the genetic "abnormality" that helped determine his destiny.

"DAN, take me to the other gene on chromosome 10." The images around him blurred then re-formed. He was now inside the double helix looking along its fluorescent, multicolored length, traveling down an incandescent boulevard of genes. The nucleotide pairs of the second new gene were all around him along the double helix. He was inside one of the genes that made Christ different from other men. He felt a sense of genuine awe. But it was to the randomness of nature that he paid homage for creating this exception to its laws.

However, it was the third gene on chromosome 18 that really took his breath away. No wonder DAN had called it complex; it was hundreds of thousands of base pairs long--far longer than any he had seen before. He could only guess at what wonders its program coded for. His mind was suddenly filled with questions about how they were going to unlock these genes and harness their powers. Would they behave in the same way as usual genes? Could he use normal recombinant DNA technology to express the proteins coded by them in lab-controlled bacteria? Could he load them into a virus, and insert them directly into a patient--into Holly? So many questions. But they were good questions. Options. He now had material to work with. He could do something at last.

He suddenly realized that he'd been monopolizing the headset and removed it to give someone else a look. As usual his eyes took a moment to adapt to the real world, but he instantly sensed that the others were no longer crowding around the headset. Surprised, he turned and through unfocused eyes noticed they were grouped around someone standing on the other side of DAN. He felt his excitement turn to annoyance. It was understood that nobody apart from the Cana team was allowed into this section of the Mendel Suite. And it was especially important today. Now.

He walked toward the group and was surprised by the hush. Nobody was saying anything; the team just stood in a circle staring at the intruder. Then Tom's recovered eye sight caused him to stare as well; the intruder was standing with his back to him--buck naked.

Jasmine was by her keyboard and Tom watched her silently beckon him closer. She looked as if she'd seen a ghost. He turned back to the stranger, now only feet away. Jasmine had seen a ghost--that of a Nazarene carpenter who had been dead for two thousand years.

Jasmine tapped out two more commands to the Gene-Imaging software, and the eerily lifelike hologram of Jesus Christ rotated on the holo-pad in front of Tom.

PART III

The Genes of God

Chapter Nineteen.

Beacon Hill

Boston

At 3:12 A. M. on April 1, fifteen days after the Nazareth genes had been found, all was quiet in the Carter household. The still darkness in Holly's bedroom was disturbed only by the soft, regular sound of her breathing. Her peaceful face smiled as she dreamed her dreams--oblivious to the malignancy growing inside her.

Twenty-four days had elapsed since the original glial cell in her brain had turned traitor. It had now produced countless clones of itself, all with equally rebellious DNA. Even as Holly slept, the tireless revolution was gathering pace, growing faster than DAN had predicted. The obedient brain cells could do nothing to quell this uprising. Even the immune system, the body's militia geared up to repel invaders, ignored these mutations of the body's own cells, letting them go about their murderous business unchallenged.

Only two days ago, when her godmother and father had taken her to Star Wars VII, Holly had experienced the first headaches, accompanied by a rush of giddiness. But she hadn't told anybody because she was worried her dad would blame the computer, and stop her from playing on it. So Holly had simply decided to cut down and use it only a few hours at night, feeling sure the headaches would go away. But of course they wouldn't. They would only get worse.

Even as Holly dreamed of last summer when Mom and Dad had been together, playing with her on the pink-white sands of Horseshoe Bay in Bermuda, the traitorous cells were already entering the second mutation of clonal evolution. And if the rebels of this genetic war of independence remained unchecked, if they were allowed to proliferate indefinitely within the tight confines of Holly's skull, then it wouldn't only be in her dreams that Tom's precious daughter was reunited with her mother.

Tom Carter was still unaware of Holly's condition when he drove to work the next morning, and he would remain so until her monthly brain scan in a little over a week's time. In the fifteen days since finding the Nazareth genes he had been focusing all his thoughts and energies on unlocking their power. He had barely had time to reflect on the significance of seeing the resurrected holo-image of Jesus Christ, let alone worry if Holly had already succumbed.

The first thing Tom did in the Crick Lab that morning with Bob Cooke was check the Gallenkamp incubators. He pulled four of the transparent circular culture dishes from the top rack and studied them closely. Three of them contained Streptomyces bacteria with one of the three new Nazareth genes cloned into them. The bacteria were acting as factories, converting the new genetic instructions into their coded proteins. The fourth dish contained the same bacterium with all three genes combined.

"Any change?" asked Bob Cooke beside him.

"No, it's the same as the E coli. We don't obviously have the same inclusion bodies, but the pattern's similar. You used the same plasmids and restriction enzymes for all the dishes?"

"Identical."

"Well, the naz 3 gene still refuses to behave. Whatever protein it codes for still isn't folding."

Bob Cooke took the fourth dish labeled the "Trinity--Streptomyces" and frowned. "But we're getting the un known protein when we put all three genes together."

"Yeah, but what does it do? The human cell cultures prove that naz 1 obviously codes for some kind of DNA repair protein, but not a particularly spectacular one. And the protein from the naz 2 gene has limited cell control characteristics--but again that's nothing new. What I want to know is what this totally new protein from all three combined is. It doesn't actually appear to do anything."

Bob picked up his notes from the bench beside him. "If only we could get the damn naz 3 gene to work in isolation."

"Assuming it does, of course," muttered Tom.

"If it doesn't," said Bob, "then it's going to take a helluva long time to unravel what it's doing in the total mix. Perhaps it might be better to try and find a match?"

Tom put the culture dishes down and paced around the lab. This was proving more difficult than he'd thought. He was sure his strategy was correct. But it looked as if he might have to shift the emphasis. It had been obvious from the start that if there was something therapeutic in the Nazareth genes, then the answer lay in the composite protein formed by all three together. The enigmatic naz 3 gene appeared to be adding an unidentifiable element to the other two, turning their individually unremarkable proteins into something unique and potentially exciting. But unlocking the enormously complex third gene in isolation would take even DAN too long. So his strategy boiled down to focusing on three broad areas.

The first involved farming the protein in the lab. By inserting the three genes into bacteria, the bacterial cells could be turned into mini-factories producing the coded proteins. And after some modifications Tom hoped he could then inject the proteins like a drug.

The second meant inserting all three genes directly into live animals, to see what effect they had on an organism and what proteins were produced in vivo.

The third option he'd formulated only as a last resort, in case the first two failed, or took too long. This entailed finding a live person who possessed a fully functioning set of the genes. Tom thought he could then analyze the nat urally occurring genes in situ. And if he still couldn't determine how they worked, then he would try to persuade the individual to realize any healing powers he might possess, and use them to save Holly. This had originally been the least attractive option, but as he considered their progress to date it was fast becoming the front runner.

They had already tested option one endlessly. All the genes had been tried individually and collectively in E coli, Saccharomyces cerevisiae, Streptomyces, and even human cell cultures. But always the naz 3 gene refused to express its protein, and always they got the mysterious composite protein when all three genes--what the irreverent Californian had termed the Trinity--were combined. However, each and every time they made it, this laboratory-farmed version of the composite protein appeared to be inert.

Option two had also yielded little so far, although there were other tests to run. To date the Trinity had had no effect on mice, or on live tumor cells when inserted by viral vector. To his left in the glass-fronted refrigerated cabinet he could see the rack of beautiful serums his team had developed--all designed to deliver the three genes into an organism's stem cells. But the genes still didn't appear to make any difference when they got there.

Unless these serums came through in later tests it looked as if Bob Cooke was right, and they'd have to prioritize option three. They would have to find someone who already possessed a working set of these genes, so they could analyze them in vivo, or persuade the individual to heal Holly directly. Tom reached for the phone and dialed Jasmine's extension downstairs in the IT Section. She picked up on the second ring.

"Jazz."

"Hi, it's Tom. How's the search going?"

A pause. "Not good. A couple of people, and I mean a couple, have got one of the genes--either naz 1 or naz 2. But no one's got all three. I haven't seen anybody with naz 3 yet. Big Mother's feeding in more scans all the time, but I've been through most of IGOR's past entries now and we're fast running out of prospects."

"How many scans is Big Mother picking up?"

"The usual. One in five."

"Make it five out of five. From now on I want to check on everyone who takes a Genescope scan anywhere in the world."

"Every single one? What's going on? Has your mysterious Ezekiel been applying pressure?"

"No, we've got three more weeks before he starts getting antsy." Tom remembered how excited the old man had been when he'd returned the samples and told him they'd found the three genes. Ezekiel had asked when they might have a match but hadn't pushed him to pull the five-week deadline forward. "It's my other options that are applying the pressure, Jazz. They're running out. You look like our best bet now."

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better. But don't get your hopes up. It could take years for a subject who has all three of the genes to be scanned and deposited in IGOR--assuming one exists."

"How about the other eighty percent of genomes Big Mother wasn't storing on IGOR?"

A sigh. "They're on a range of private databases around the world. Trying to hack into them is illegal."

"Only if anyone finds out."

Jasmine tried to sound shocked, but Tom could hear the excitement in her voice. "They're extremely well protected."

"You're saying it can't be done? Or it would take a genius to do it?"

A small laugh. "Dr. Carter, has anyone ever told you that you can be a real sweet-talker when you want to be?"

It was his to turn to chuckle. "No, Dr. Washington, I can honestly say they never have."

Another pause, her voice more serious. "How's my goddaughter? She seemed a bit quiet at the movies."

"I know, but she says she's fine."

"When's her next scan?"

"About a week."

"You really believe you need a match to help her?"

"We're still trying the other routes, but they're not looking good so far. So, yeah."

A sigh. "I'll see what I can do. But promise me one thing, Tom?"

"Name it."

"Visit me in jail!"

He was perfect. His build, height, even the shape of his face was ideal. He was a loner too. Over the last two weeks Maria Benariac had followed the dark-haired man around most of Boston, and it was clear that he was new to the city and had few friends. On the third day he'd gone to that downtown club where she'd discovered he was bisexual, but that wasn't a problem; he only had casual partners. There appeared to be no one who would miss him for a week or so. Even his phone was barely used--her phone tap had told her that much--and when it did ring he never seemed to pick it up, preferring to let the answering machine screen the callers for him.

Apart from the obvious necessary changes, he was exactly what she was looking for. Even his sexuality made it easier to justify what she was going to do to him. It made him unrighteous and therefore eminently expendable.

Maria took care when she followed him from the company building. Her research had uncovered that he'd once worked for the New York Police Department and would therefore have some training. She noticed the polyethylene bag draped over his right shoulder and the cap in his right hand. Obviously his midday interview had gone well.

Excellent.

If he hadn't got the security job then all his other qualifications would have been worthless. But with it he was more than perfect--he was a gift from God.

He climbed into his car, and she followed in hers. She didn't need to shadow him too closely; by now she could guess what he was doing and where he was going. He'd rented an apartment in a block near Harvard. When they passed the GENIUS campus ten minutes later she allowed herself a small tight smile. She could almost taste the satisfaction of killing the scientist. And in a few days she would be able to satisfy that taste for real.

As they neared the man's apartment she parked her rental car a block away and walked. By the time she reached the main door of the brownstone he was already inside. She tried the door and like yesterday, and the day before, found it open. She entered and checked that she was alone, then sauntered over to the two elevators, taking the one that still worked. The run-down building had paint peeling off the walls and was mainly inhabited by students. But it would do fine for a few days. Brother Bernard was no doubt still trying to contact her; he had already left three messages at her London apartment, none of which she'd answered. But Bernard, or whoever he sent looking for her, would never find her here. And when he did it would be too late.

On the third floor she checked her overalls and the contents of her toolbox, then strolled down the corridor to the man's apartment. Number 30. She stopped and knocked.

Silence. Then a muffled "Who is it?" She heard breathing from the other side of the black door and guessed he was looking through the peephole.