Jason felt his head begin to pound. Finding a plausible explanation of what might what have been the key to it all made the possibility of a psychopathic mass murderer suddenly real. Shirley returned from the bar, swirling her drink. For the moment, Jason decided to spare her this newest revelation.
“Any message from Curran?” he asked instead.
“Not yet,” Shirley said, looking at him oddly. For a moment he wondered if she could read his mind.
“I have a question,” she said hesitantly. “Isn’t this supposed releasing factor for the death hormone part of a natural process?”
“Yes,” Jason said. “That’s why pathology hasn’t been much help. All the victims, including Hayes, died of what are called natural causes. The releasing factor merely takes the gene activated at puberty and turns it on full force.”
“You mean we start aging at puberty?” Shirley asked with dismay.
“That’s the current theory,” said Jason. “But obviously it is gradual, picking up speed only in later life, as the levels of growth hormone and sex hormones fall. The releasing factor apparently switches on the death hormone gene all at once, and in an adult without high titers of growth hormone to counter it, it causes rapid aging just like the salmon. My guess is about three weeks. The limiting factor seems to be the cardiovascular system. That’s what apparently gives out first and causes death. But it could be other organ systems, as well.”
“But aging is a natural process,” she repeated.
“Aging is a part of life,” agreed Jason. “Evolutionarily it is as important as growth. Yes, it is a natural process.” Jason laughed hollowly. “Hayes certainly was right when he described his discovery as ironic. With all the work being done to slow aging down, his work on growth resulted in a way to speed it up.”
“If aging and death have an evolutionary value,” Shirley persisted, “perhaps they have a social one as well.”
Jason looked at her with a growing sense of alarm. He wished he weren’t so tired. His brain was sending danger signals he felt too exhausted to decode. Taking his silence as assent, Shirley continued. “Let me put it another way. Medicine in general is faced with the challenge of providing quality care at low cost. But because of increasing life-spans, hospitals are swamped with an elderly population that they keep alive at an enormous price, draining not just their economic resources, but the energy of the medical personnel as well. GHP, for example, did very well when it first started, because the bulk of the subscribers were young and healthy. Now, twenty years later, they are all older and require a great deal more health care. If aging were speeded up in certain circumstances, it might be best for both the patients and the hospitals.
“The important point,” emphasized Shirley, “is that the old and infirm should age and die rapidly to avoid suffering as well as to avoid the over-utilization of expensive medical care.”
As Jason’s numb brain began to understand Shirley’s reasoning, he felt himself becoming paralyzed with horror. Although he wanted to shout that what she was implying was legalized murder, he found himself sitting dumbly on the edge of the couch like a bird confronted by a poisonous snake and frozen with fear.
“Jason, do you have any idea how much it costs to keep people alive during their last months of life in a hospital?” Shirley said, again mistaking his silence for acquiescence. “Do you? If medicine didn’t spend so much on the dying, it could do so much more to help the living. If GHP wasn’t swamped with mid-. die-aged patients destined to be ill because of their unhealthy lifestyles, think what we could do for the young. And aren’t patients who fail to take care of themselves, like heavy smokers and drinkers, or people who use drugs, voluntarily speeding up their own demise? Is it so wrong to hasten their deaths so they don’t burden the rest of society?”
Jason’s mouth finally opened in protest, but he couldn’t find the words to refute her. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief.
“I can’t believe you won’t accept the fact that medicine can no longer survive under the crushing burden of the chronic health problems presented by physically unfit people-those very patients who have spent thirty or forty years abusing the bodies God gave them.”
“That’s not for me or you to decide,” Jason shouted at last.
“Even if the aging process is simply speeded up by a natural substance?”
“That’s murder!” Jason stumbled to his feet. Shirley rose too, moving swiftly to the double doors leading to the dining room. “Come in, Mr. Díaz,” she said, flinging them open. “I’ve done what I could.”
Jason’s mouth went dry as he turned to face the man he’d last seen at the Salmon Inn. Juan’s darkly handsome face was alive with anticipation. He was carrying a small, German-made automatic muzzled with a cigar-sized silencer.
Jason backed up clumsily until his back struck the far wall. His eyes went from the gun to the killer’s strikingly handsome face, to Shirley, who eyed him as calmly as if she were in a board meeting.
“No tablecloth this time,” Diaz said, grinning to show movie-star-perfect white teeth. He advanced on Jason, putting the muzzle of the gun six inches from Jason’s head. “Good-bye,” he said with a friendly flick of his head.
CHAPTER 17
“Mr. Diaz,” Shirley said.
“Yes,” Juan answered without taking his eyes off Jason.
“Don’t shoot him unless he forces you to. It will be better to deal with him the way we did with Mr. Hayes. I’ll bring you the material from the clinic tomorrow.”
Jason breathed out. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.
The smile vanished from Juan’s face. His nostrils flared; he was disappointed and angry. “I think it would be much safer if I killed him right now, Miss Montgomery.”
“I don’t care what you think — and I’m paying you. Now let’s get him into the cellar. And no rough stuff — I know what I’m doing.”
Juan moved the pistol so the cold metal touched Jason’s temple. Jason knew the man was hoping for the slightest excuse to shoot; he remained perfectly still, petrified by fear.
“Come on!” called Shirley from the front hall.
“Go!” said Juan, pulling the gun back from Jason’s head.
Jason walked stiffly, his arms pressed against his sides. Juan fell in behind, occasionally touching Jason’s back with the gun.
Shirley opened a door under the staircase across from the front entrance. Jason could see a flight of steps leading to the basement.
As Jason approached, he tried to catch Shirley’s eye, but she turned away. He stepped through the door and started down, Juan directly behind him.
“Doctors amaze me,” said Shirley, turning on the cellar light and closing the door behind her. “They think medicine is just a question of helping the sick. The truth is unless something is done about the chronically unhealthy, there won’t be money or manpower to help those who can actually recover.”
Looking at her calm, pretty face, the perfect clothes, Jason couldn’t believe it was the same woman he’d always admired.
She interrupted herself to direct Juan down a long narrow hallway to a heavy oak door. Squeezing by Juan and Jason, she unlocked it and flicked on the light, illuminating a large square room. Jason was pushed inside, where he saw an open doorway to the left, a workbench, and another heavy closed door to the right. Then the light went out, the door slammed, and total darkness surrounded him.