“Ready for the tour, Dr. Trout?”
Gamay rose and buttoned herself into the coat.
“Anytime you are, Dr. Mayhew.”
He replied with the inevitable switched-on smile.
“Follow me,” he said.
They took an unmarked shell path in a direction opposite that of the nature trail and came upon a one-story cinder-block building painted a light mossy green. The air vibrated with the hum of unseen electric motors.
“Resource cultivation is done in this building,” Mayhew said. “It may look like a garage, but this lab is on the leading edge of biomedical research.”
The dimly lit building housed dozens of large, lighted fish tanks. A couple of white-coated technicians armed with clipboards moved from tank to tank. They paid no attention to the newcomers, except for a casual wave. The air was heavy with a wet, fishy smell.
“These seawater tanks are precisely maintained to duplicate exactly the habitat of the marine organisms they contain,” Mayhew explained.
“How many different organisms are you researching?” Gamay asked.
“Dozens of species and subspecies. Let me show you the current reigning star of the show.”
Mayhew went over to a tank that housed several vibrantly colored red blobs, each about the size of a grapefruit. Short, pointed tentacles surrounded their mouths. They festooned the rocks inside the tanks.
“Lovely,” she said. “This must be the sea flower that I read about it in the scientific journals.”
“The staff likes to give common names to the creatures,” Mayhew said. “Saves wrapping our tongues around Latin locutions. There’s the sea star and the sea blossom, and so on. Ironic, when you realize that these exquisite creatures are efficient killing machines superbly engineered to attract small fish close enough to sting and devour.”
“There’s another irony,” Gamay said. “Despite being poisonous, they may be able to cure disease.”
“Killing and curing aren’t mutually exclusive. Curare is a good poison that’s used in medicine. Botox too.”
“Tell me about the sea star, Dr. Mayhew.”
“ Gladly.That little beauty is related to another sponge discovered in 1984. Harbor Branch Oceanographic was diving off Bermuda in the Sea-Link submersible. They found a piece of sponge in the sub’s suction tube. The sponge contained a chemical that in lab tests killed cancer cells.”
“I read about that in the scientific journals. An exciting discovery,” she said.
Mayhew nodded.
“And frustrating as well,” he said.
“In what way, Dr. Mayhew?”
“Scientists searched for another twenty years for a whole sponge without success. Then someone had a brainstorm: why not dive deeper and find the sponge’s true habitat? On the first dive, they found enough sponges to support yearsof research. The scientists had been looking for the sponge in places where other stuff was growing. Their sponge grew at a depth of a thousand feet, where the bottom was practically bare.”
“Did you use the same search procedure for the sea star?” Gamay asked.
“Essentially. We found fragments of an unknown specimen not far from the Harbor Branch dives, did a habitat profile, and, as that TV chef says, Bam!We found whole sponges that also contained the cancer-killing chemical.”
“Does the star’s potential live up to its beauty?” she asked.
“The Harbor Branch specimen produced a chemical dozens of times more potent than the most powerful drug. The star is almost twice that strong.”
“Do I detect a note of smugness in your voice, Dr. Mayhew?”
The scientist widened his mouth in a smile that for once did not look pasted on his face.
“We’ve got a long slog ahead of us before we can license the chemical to a pharmaceutical company, which would take the compound through clinical tests. We have to find a way to produce the chemical in quantity. Harvesting sponges in the wild isn’t feasible economically or ecologically.”
“I’m sure you’ve looked into raising sponges through aquaculture,” Gamay said.
“We’re researching that possibility. Better still would be culturing the microorganisms that produce the chemical. That would support our ultimate goal of synthesizing the chemical for wider distribution.” He shrugged. “First, we have to figure out how it works.”
“You have your job cut out for you, Dr. Mayhew.”
“True, but the potential rewards are mind-boggling. Ocean biomedicine is expected to be the greatest source of pharmaceuticals in the future.”
Gamay cast her eyes around the lab.
“What’s in the other tanks?” she asked.
“More sponges, different varieties. Each specimen has its own chemical characteristics. We’re looking at cures for a host of human ailments. For instance, we’ve got corals that produce potential antibacterial and antiviral agents, and painkillers many times more powerful than morphine but without addictive qualities. The possibilities are endless.”
Mayhew attempted to move the tour along.
“I’m a bit puzzled,” Gamay said, subtly resisting the push of his guiding hand. “I’m sure I read on your website that you were doing research on other invertebrates. I haven’t seen any species of Cnidaria .”
The question seemed to catch Mayhew by surprise. He dropped his hand from her elbow and glanced reflexively at the door to a walled-off section of the lab.
“Jellyfish? Well . . .”
Mayhew may have been an accomplished scientist, but he was an amateur at cloak-and-dagger. Gamay’s eyes followed the direction of his revealing glance, and she gave him her most charming smile. Taking him by the arm, she urged him toward the door.
“I’ll bet you forgot,” she said.
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s . . . We don’t like to disturb them.” He was folding under her unrelenting gaze. “Well, I suppose it won’t do any harm.”
He opened the door and ushered Gamay into a room that was dark except for the light emanating from a tall, cylindrical transparent plastic tank four feet across and eight feet high.
The light came from a dozen or so jellyfish, each about the size of a cabbage, that glowed with pulsating blue lights. They were in constant motion, moving from the bottom to the top of the tank in a graceful, hypnotic underwater dance.
A figure on a ladder, bending over the top of the tank, turned toward their interruption. The unearthly light revealed the face of Dr. Bennett, the toxicologist. She opened her mouth in surprise.
“Dr. Mayhew, I didn’t expect-”
“I leaned on Dr. Mayhew to show me this part of the lab,” Gamay explained. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Bennett glanced at Mayhew, who gave her a nod.
“Not at all,” Bennett said with a halfhearted smile. She brandished the long-handled dip net in her hands. “This procedure can be a little tricky at times.”
Gamay’s eyes took in Bennett’s protective gloves and clear plastic face mask and coverall, and then she shifted her gaze back to the undulating, vaguely cube-shaped forms and their strange acrobatic ballet. Threadlike tentacles were attached to lacy fringe that rimmed each diaphanous creature. Their bioluminescence was almost bright enough to read a book by.
“In all my years of diving,” Gamay said, “I don’t think I have ever seen anything this beautiful.”
“Or as deadly,” added Mayhew, who had come up behind her. “The medusae in this tank produce a toxin that would put a cobra to shame.”
Gamay dug into her memory.
“This is a box jellyfish, isn’t it?” she asked.
“That’s right. Chironex fleckeri, the sea wasp. There have been almost one hundred recorded deaths from its sting, which can kill a human being in under three minutes. I suggest that we stand back and give Dr. Bennett some room.”
Dr. Bennett pulled the mask over her face and dipped the net in the tank.