"And you think we should do this? The world would be thrown into chaos."
"But look at the incredible cure rate we've already effected here using the telomerase enzyme. When our clinical trials for the NIH are announced, it will be the medical equivalent of the shot heard round the world. Nothing we know will ever be the same again."
"That's where you should leave it. To go further is obscene."
"I fear recent events may have proved you right. Against my better judgment, I went ahead and experimented with the Beta procedure. And the results thus far have turned out to be disastrous."
"I guess you're referring to Kristen."
"One day I casually mentioned the Beta to Winston Bartlett and without telling me, he brought it up with Kristen. She insisted on trying it." His expression grew increasingly pained. "I want you to know I was against it. I warned her that it was highly experimental, that I could not guarantee what the side effects might be, but she begged me to do it anyway. Then Bartlett essentially ordered me to do it."
"So what happened?"
He grimaced. "I got the dosage wrong. That's my best guess. After I performed the Beta on Kristen, the enzyme was stable in her for over two months and appeared to be having an effect. All signs of aging abruptly stopped. It gave me a false sense of confidence. Also, there were no side effects. That was when Bartlett wanted to try it too. So I went ahead with him. But then, to my horror, she started evincing side effects. I now believe the dosage I gave her was badly calibrated. It was too high-by how much I think I've finally determined-and the enzyme eventually began replicating too rapidly. It got away from me." He paused. "What happened to Kristen, we now call the Syndrome, for lack of a better name. And it's about to happen to Bartlett."
"But what does all this have to do with me? Why was I brought out here with all kinds of bribes and pressure and-"
"Do you want a simple answer? Of excruciating honesty?"
"It would be helpful."
"The simple answer is, Winston Bartlett has an extremely rare blood type. It's AB. You have the same."
"How did you know-"
"Your brother. You see, I need to try to develop antibodies to the telomerase enzyme that won't be rejected by his immune system. I think there's an outside chance that I could culture antibodies taken from someone with the same blood type and use them to arrest the rampant multiplying of telomerase enzyme about to begin in Bartlett's blood."
"I'm here because you'reusingme!" She couldn't believe her ears. And Grant had set it up. No wonder he was finally feeling guilty.
"I just need to borrow your immune system for a few days. It's very safe."
"Idon'tthink so. I'm out of here."
"Actually, the procedure is already under way. While Debra was taking your last blood sample, she also injected a minuscule amount of the telomerase enzyme in active form, the proprietary version used in the Beta, into your bloodstream. Don't worry. It's perfectly safe. The dosage was so minute that there's no way it could have any effect on you."
"You have got to be kidding!" My God, she thought,I could sue the hell out of-
"Don't worry, think of it like a smallpox vaccination." He paused. "Now, though, I have to tell you that I just learned the initial dosage probably didn't do the trick. The amount of antibodies created was, unfortunately, minuscule. Which means we need to go to a slightly higher infusion. But again, don't worry. It's still safe."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this," she said finally, gasping for air in her fury. "You didn't ask-"
"Alexa," he cut in, "right now I have something like two weeks left to try to head off the Syndrome in Winston Bartlett. If we achieve that, then I'm hopeful the antibodieshecreates can be successfully used to start reversing the Syndrome in Kristen. We will know how to manage the Beta. Who knows where that could lead? But it all begins with you. You're the clean slate we need to start."
"Before we go one step further, I want to know what, exactly, happens with the Syndrome. I think I know, but I'd like to hear-"
"Something that's too bizarre to believe. It literally defies every natural law we've ever known."
He couldn't bring himself to put it in words, she thought, but she knew she’d guessed right the first time. The Syndrome.
Kristen Starr wasgrowing younger. That was the horrible development and nobody could deal with it.
Andthey couldn't stop it.
Karl Van de Vliet had created a monstrosity.
"I amsoout of here," she said struggling to rise from the wheelchair. "If you try to keep me here, that's kidnapping. We're talking a capital crime."
"Alexa, I understand you're upset, but you're in no condition to be discharged. I'm very sorry." He pushed a red button on a radio device on his belt. There was genuine agony in his eyes. "I've never in my life coerced a patient in any way. But you have to understand that so much is dependent on you now. There are no easy choices left."
He's lost control of the situation here now, she told herself. He's truly terrified of Winston Bartlett.That'swho's really got control of my fate.
Moments later, the security guard from the lobby, accompanied by Marion, came through the door of the laboratory.
"No, I'm not going to let you do this," Ally declared. "I'm not letting you do any more medical experiments on me."
As she struggled again to get out of the wheelchair, she felt a prick in her arm and saw the glint of a needle in the dim light.
"I'm sorry, Alexa. It should all be over in just a couple of days. And I swear no harm will come to you."
She was feeling her consciousness swirl as Marion began rolling her through the steel air lock.
The last thing she heard was Van de Vliet saying, "Don't worry. A week from now, all this will seem like a dream."
Chapter 31
Friday, April 10
7:04a.m.
Stone felt his consciousness returning as the blast of an engine cut through his sedative-induced reverie. Where was he? There were vibrations all around him and a deafening roar that was slowly spiraling upward in frequency and volume.
As the haze that engulfed his mind slowly began to dissipate, he wondered if this wasn't more of the fantasy he'd been having, of flying through some kind of multicolored space-time continuum. Or was he waking up to something spectacularly real?
As he opened his eyes and looked around, he realized it was no dream. He was in a cramped airline seat, strapped in with a black seat belt. His head was gently secured to a headrest by a soft cotton scarf, but his hands were free, lying in his lap.
Somebody had lifted him into the seat and strapped him down.
On his left was a Plexiglas window, and when he looked out, he saw the earth beneath him begin falling away.