Thunderous applause rocked the Washington Hilton's grand ballroom as Kate Blackwood made her way down from the dais lugging a briefcase full of the notes and documents that had made her presentation the hottest media event in a media-crazed town. Her speech, delivered to a packed audience of scientists, government officials and media from forty-three countries had enraged some in the audience but encouraged most of the others.
The event -- the White House symposium on the Human Genome project -- had been scheduled long before Kate's White House appointment, but in the three months since her arrival, she had energized the proceedings and elevated them from the realm of dry and mostly obtuse papers to an event CNN had termed "the United Nations of human genetics." Never before had the general media paid so much attention to the real issues - the science beneath -- a subject that, was so poorly understood, misinterpreted and demonized. It was what she had intended.
At the base of the dais, Kate plunged into a swirl of people that crowded around her all wanting her attention. Like a successful politician, she shook the nearest hands, patted the nearest shoulders, looked into every pair of eyes that met hers. It took only moments for the television camera crews to surround Kate, crowding out the well-wishers and others who fought for a fragment of her time.
"Lisette Hartley, CNN," said the first reporter to emerge from the jostling scrum and shove a mike in Kate's face. "Were you really serious when you warned that genetic research could produce some sort of 'ethnic bomb' -- a biological weapon capable of wiping out one race or ethnic group and leaving others untouched?"
"Facts speak for themselves," Kate said as she set her briefcase down and withdrew from it two sheets of paper.
"This," Kate said as she straightened up and shoved one of the sheets at the reporter, "is the current list of diseases mostly confined to one ethnic group or another. Cystic Fibrosis affects mostly Caucasians, Tay-Sachs mostly Ashkenazi Jews, Sickle Cell Anemia mostly African-Americans and so on down a list that numbers more than two hundred at the present time."
Kate paused as she again bent over her briefcase and pulled from it another photocopy and held it up so the CNN cameraman could get a close-up for later broadcast.
"This is the -- much shorter -- list of ethnically-linked diseases for which cures and treatments exist, cures and treatments that key off the sick individual's specific DNA sequences that cause the disease."
Looking directly at the camera, Kate said, "I know a little about this because more than half of these treatments were developed by my former company, GenIntron. If we can develop a pharmaceutical that targets a specific DNA sequence identified with a particular ethnic group, then it's theoretically possible to develop a killing agent that operates the same way."
"But research on offensive biological warfare is outlawed by international treaty," another television on-camera personality countered aggressively. Kate turned toward the source of the challenge and found a young, immaculately coifed blond woman with expensively even, white teeth, too much make-up and a two thousand dollar designer suit. "That can't happen, can it?"
Kate shook her head slowly and gave the woman a look that wordlessly asked how she could possibly be so naive.
"If that's the case, how can we account for the Russian government's recent admission that a massive anthrax outbreak in Sverdlosk -- nearly a decade after the treaty was signed -- was an accident from a biological warfare facility? How can a treaty be enforced among terrorists? Can you keep Serbs from wanting to kill Muslims or Muslims from killing Jews or Hutus from killing Tutsis or ..." She hesitated for a moment. "Or today's neo-nationalist Japanese groups from using the technology to rid the country of Koreans and other undesirables?"
A buzz swept through the assembly; she knew some of them were looking hard at her eyes and skin and others were remembering her company had been bought by a Japanese-owned corporation. They were all wondering where she stood.
The blond woman's mouth opened and shut several times. Kate imagined the woman's brain like her mouth, futilely gasping in pursuit of an intelligent thought, much like a fish out of water. Not for the first time, Kate felt terrified that most people got their news from watching television.
Before the blond TV personality found either thoughts or words, the CNN reporter broke through the excited buzz.
"I thought the concept of race was an outmoded one," the reporter asked, obviously having done her homework. "That there isn't a gene for being black or Japanese?"
"Technically that's right," Kate replied. "There is no one gene; in fact there is no coherent DNA profile for any given race. In fact, there is as much or greater genetic variation among people of a given race," she used her fingers to place visual quotation marks around the word, "more variation there than there is between people of different races."
"So how do you explain the theoretical ability to produce an ethnic bomb," Hartley persisted.
"Because people who live in a certain area for long periods of time, those who, by custom, intermarry among their own group develop certain genetic sequences that are the same. It's less a racial thing than a process of genetic familiarity. We see it among the Amish and among most of the world's rural populations who don't migrate and who marry among those they know best. All that's required to create an ethnic bomb, as you call it, is the ability to search through the DNA to find the right sequences. Fortunately for us all, that's a process that is long, laborious, expensive and limited to a rare few people who know how to do it. But, like the ability to produce nuclear weapons, it won't remain that way forever."
She thought now of the call from Anthony Mills and wondered if Will MacVicar's birthday present had arrived.
Another shouted question came from the mob of reporters, but before Kate could answer, a tall, slightly-built young man in a pin-stripe suit pushed his way through the crowd. The television reporters recognized him an instant after Kate did. Peter Durant, White House health care policy wonk ("the presidential twirp" as he was called behind his back) and, not incidentally at this occasion, the man charged by the president's chief of staff with "riding herd" on her.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Durant said facing the cameras, "but Ms. Blackwood is urgently needed at a meeting at the White House." Kate looked questioningly at him; Durant angled his head toward the ballroom's exit. Following his glance, Kate saw Durant's two Secret Service agents standing -- out-numbered and nervous -- just beyond the clot of television reporters.
Durant was one of the few non-Cabinet-level people to warrant Secret Service protection. His proposed changes to the health care system struck raw nerves in tens of millions of people and, not surprisingly, provoked all manner of death threats. ("Just one more argument for government-funded psychiatric care," he was fond of saying. Those who didn't realize that Durant lacked a sense of humor thought he was making a joke.)
Genetic testing combined with mandatory abortions for fetuses that tested positive for expensive birth defects was a cornerstone of Durant's cost-containment program. Kate had clashed with him frequently on this, arguing that mandatory abortion deprived women of personal choices in the same way that banning abortions altogether did. It was a hot debate that had spilled over into the newspapers more than once. Each story brought more death threats, aimed primarily at Durant.
Because of this and the protests that had plagued Kate as president of GenIntron, she had been offered a security detail, but so far it had been unneeded. The crazies seemed attached to GenIntron, not to her personally. She enjoyed the ability to take a walk alone again.
Making her apologies ("Duty calls!") Kate followed Durant from the ballroom into a service corridor. The two Secret Service agents Kate had spotted were joined by three more who melted out of the crowd and formed a sort of rear guard as they walked among trays stacked with dirty dishes from the luncheon.
When the security detail had discreetly distanced themselves, front and rear, Durant turned to Kate. "I've never seen someone piss off so many people so fast as you've done." He exhaled audibly and rubbed his face in frustration.
They walked in silence for several paces before Kate replied. Stepping gingerly over a mound of what had pretended to be rubber chicken a few hours earlier, she said evenly. "I take it there's no urgent meeting at the White House?"
He shook his head slowly, leaned over and said, "You didn't say what we expected today."
"Then you didn't read my speech."
"This whole matter was discussed with you," Durant hissed angrily. "The president feels -- "
"Cut the crap, Durant," Kate snapped. "The president doesn't feel anything half the time; he listens more to his Prozac than to you, me or anyone else."
Durant opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it as they neared the freight elevator and caught up with the Secret Service agents on point. Kate and Durant said nothing as the elevator arrived. One Secret Service agent boarded the car even as the scarred doors rattled open. An instant later, he emerged, satisfied it was empty, and held the doors.
"We'll meet you at the bottom as instructed, sir," said the point agent.
Kate watched him lean in and push the button for the lower garage level.
"Jesus Christ! You don't know what you're doing!" Durant said in a shouted whisper as the elevator doors closed.
"I'm sorry?" Kate raised her eyebrows coolly.
"You're not just dealing with the White House now," he warned as the elevator descended. "There are interests involved."
"My interest is in good science," Kate said. "You can take your political bullshit and -- "
Durant turned to face her and it was then that she saw the fear in his eyes.
"This isn't about politics," he said. "This isn't even about the incredible damage your big mouth has done to health care reform. This is about your extracurricular activities."
"My what?"
"This is much more powerful and ..." He inhaled a loud and strained lungful of air as he stared at the elevator's ceiling, its bare fluorescent lights. "... and..." he exhaled. "Dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Kate asked, her voice softened now by the fear she saw. "Dangerous how?"
"You must cease any involvement with the Tokyo thing," Durant said urgently, his voice trembling. "Walk away from it; wash your hands! You're done with it!"
"The Tokyo ..." Kate thought for a moment before the recognition dawned. "But all I did was offer a little pro bono assistance to a couple of old classmates, offered GenIntron's expertise to -- "
"I know what you did, damnit!" Durant nearly shouted; his voice cracked as he struggled to control his emotions. "There will be no further contact with Tokyo."
"Hold on!" Kate protested. "We've got a duty -- a public health duty -- to scope out that bug. It's just a plane ride away from the U.S. Three months of work has turned up nothing but weird stuff."
Shaking his head vigorously, Durant said, "It's bigger, much bigger than you can possibly believe." The elevator chunked to a stop. "It's too big to stop."
Kate waited for more, but the health policy wonk spoke no more.
"What the hell are you babbling about, Peter?"
"You must listen to me," he said in begging tones she had never heard before from this arrogant health care autocrat. "Do what I say. Otherwise ...." He stopped as the elevator doors began to rumble open.
"Otherwise what?" Kate persisted.
Shaking his head, Durant put his index finger up to tight lips. He stepped out as the doors opened then turned to her. By the way he stood, blocking the opening, he didn't intend for her to follow him.
"Otherwise ...." He drew his index finger in a slashing motion across his throat.
Kate opened her mouth to speak.
The elevator doors rumbled closed.