DNA altered by vector technology produces the same proteins consistently regardless of the patient's individual DNA makeup. These foreign proteins can be bound with Chaperone and administered along with the vec tors. Hence, there is no immune reaction from the onset of the extrusion of foreign proteins by altered brain cells.
Sam skipped the rest of the lawyer's explanation and went down to a section on patent rights.
Raval was at all times an employee of Grace Technologies when this special process was developed as was Dr. Boudreaux (per Admiral Larive).
Moreau states: I am certain the molecule for the Chaperone was discovered by Bowden in the Amazon basin in 1998. We do not know whether the molecule is plant or animal. I was told that the properties of the molecule as an immunosuppressant were very similar or the same to that of a certain molecule from Porifera, a saltwater sponge which is technically an animal as distinguished from a plant. However, it was my under standing that the Porifera molecule would not function as a Chaperone.
Grace purchased a license to utilize the Chaperone molecule from Northern Lights. The processes for uti lizing Chaperone belonged to Grace through its em ployee Raval as the inventor. Moreau states: Raval's status as an employee of Grace will be verified by the French government's bankruptcy attorneys.
A confidential communication from Northern Lights not to be disclosed to other parties is to be to the effect that the Chaperone is a molecule taken from a freshwater sponge known only to occur in the Amazon and known only to Michael Bowden, and that Northern Lights makes certain claims to this molecule outlined in a confidential letter from their attorney. Those claims seem dubious because they have not yet described this complex molecule with any precision and parts of the molecule are as yet not understood.
Immediately Sam focused on Benoit's comment regarding the employment of Raval. It seemed to be placed in the interview like a bomb in an innocent-looking sack. Sam wondered how the law firm was handling all the confiden tiality between all of the parties and figured they must have a giant file folder full of conflict waivers. Looking further, he found the "Conflicts" file, but he didn't bother trying to copy it, since it was, in fact, massive and he was running out of time.
There were other notes and research about process patent rights. Obviously, Michael's 1998 journal entries would be critical. Hurriedly he copied what looked to be the important material and headed for the handicap stall in the women's rest- room where he opened his briefcase. He spent a half hour doing a passable job on his disguise.
As he was about to exit the restroom, he heard running footsteps and immediately supposed that he might be in trouble. Quickly he closed the door but for a crack.
"God, I love that show Six Feet Under, have you seen it?" The girl from the coffee room. "Who's running?" There was a pause and the footsteps grew closer. "Jeez. Who are you?"
"FBI. We've been alerted that someone has broken into your offices. They might be looking for the office of Arthur Stewart. Have you seen any strangers?"
"Bearded guy. He was looking for the fireproof cabinets. He said Mr. Stewart was there and we told him where to go." They meticulously described the route. "What's with the guns?"
Sam could see that the agents each held a 9mm model 459 Smith amp; Wesson. The weapon was not standard-issue FBI, and if they were Feds, they would not be running around with their guns out when there was no threat.
"Thanks. You should leave immediately. Get out of the building."
"Whatever you say."
"This guy is very dangerous."
They weren't even good imitators. Real agents would have given a name.
They left.
Sam knew that if he ran down the stairs to lower floors, he would have a good chance of fueling a gun battle and that was just what he didn't need. If he went to the elevators, somebody might watch the elevator descend and that would be a dead giveaway. If he went for the emergency stairs in the building, the number of bodies chasing him might increase geometrically as he descended. This was feeling like a trap resulting from a tip-off.
He followed the two men, figuring they would end up in Martha's office. When he got to the right turn leading down Martha's hall, he stopped and listened.
"You're sure you haven't seen any strangers, no bearded guy?"
"No. Only a new lawyer by the name of Scott Davis. That's it"
"Where is he now?"
Sam quickly stepped into the first open office before hear ing the answer. He closed the door, locked it, and stepped behind the door. There was a window to the hall with blinds and he saw their legs move by in a blur.
After waiting a minute, he opened the door and went quickly to Martha's office.
When he walked in, she jumped and looked frightened.
"It's me again."
"What in the hell? The beard?"
"Be calm. I'll explain."
"The FBI is here. They said to leave."
"Obviously I'm not Scott. I'm Sam. Those men are im personating the FBI and I am a government contractor of sorts."
"Oh, my god. Why are they pretending to be the FBI?"
"Here's what I want you to do. Get the number of the New York FBI, Manhattan office."
"Okay."
She grabbed the phone and dialed, still looking fright ened.
"Please don't be frightened. In seconds you'll have real FBI agents on the phone and on the way."
"I'm beginning to hope so."
"You got them?"
"Yes. Tell them you want to be put through to the Wash ington field office. Tell them you are placing the call for Agent Silverwind."
"She says just a minute. She says she doesn't know what you're talking about. She says she's new."
"Tell her that she should have a list of FBI agents on her computer. Tell her to look up Agent Silverwind."
"She says, 'What now?'"
"Ask her what it says by the asterisk."
"She says that it says to put through all calls and gives a number."
"Ask her to do it."
"Please put the call through."
"She says, 'Why didn't you say so?' "
"It may take awhile. It's running through relays to the cell of whoever is on call."
"Hello. I'm standing here with a guy named Sam who says he knows you."
"Tell him I need to prove I'm a government contractor." Sam said.
"He says he needs to prove he's a government contractor." Pause.
"You have a locket?" She looked genuinely perturbed.
They waited and she reached out for the locket, which was still outside his shirt. "Let me see." She studied it.
"I see the locket. It's gold and has a picture of an old Indian gentleman. He says to take off your right shoe. There is a red birthmark on your instep."
Sam quickly took off his maroon dress shoe. It had gum soles in keeping with tradition.
"I see the birthmark. He says now to ask you how the earth smiles."
"In flowers," Sam answered.
"He says you're a good guy, but not an employee of the government. He says though that he would trust you with his own mother."
Sam took the phone. "Who have I got?"
"Ernie."
"Thank God it wasn't your hard-ass partner."