Nano

CHAPTER 11

At first George kept quiet in the car. He felt very full, of food and wine, and the motion of the car was doing unpleasant things to his stomach. He put his left arm around Pia’s shoulders, and while she hadn’t drawn closer, she didn’t pull his arm away, either. The evening had definitely been taxing, and George was tired and reeling. He felt Berman had skillfully choreographed the event, keeping Pia to himself while allowing Whitney Jones to apply her considerable array of charms on him. He was again irritated at himself for what he’d said to Whitney. Guiltily he looked over at Pia, but she was concentrating on navigating the dark, twisting road. As usual, she looked beautiful. He wondered if Whitney was going to tell Berman what he had said. If she did and Berman told Pia, there was going to be hell to pay.

“What were you talking about with Berman?” George asked.

“When?”

“Most of the evening. It was obvious that he was dominating your attention.”

“Work stuff, mostly, except when he was trying to get me to talk about Rothman and my being kidnapped.”

“He tried to pull me into that.”

“I know. I heard and I have to commend you for not allowing it to happen. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“He did pay me some compliments about my immunology work vis-à-vis the microbivores.”

“That’s not surprising. It’s deserved, too.” George shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

“He also told me that he wanted me to get back to work on the flagellum issue I told you about, which is really what I was hired to do.”

“Do you have any ideas for that?”

“I do. In fact, while I was talking to him, I gave it some more thought. I had the idea of programming the microbivores that are sent to deal with flagellated bacteria to roll their targets into a ball. You know what I mean?”

“Can’t say that I do.” George put his palm against his forehead. Its coolness felt good. He was beginning to get a headache.

“I’ve explained to you how the microbivores have specific binding sites for the bacteria they’re sent to deal with. My idea is to program the microbivores to roll the bacterium over and over a few times before bringing it into the digestion chamber. That way the flagellum would be wrapped around it and would get digested at the same time as the bacteria’s body. I think it is a masterful idea. My only worry is how much code it is going to take. What do you think?”

“Sounds good to me,” George said, but he was having trouble concentrating. What he really wanted to ask Pia was whether she’d had an affair with Berman, like Whitney suggested, but he didn’t dare.

“Berman seemed to think it was a good idea, but he’s not a scientist. His job is to get the funding, which he seems very capable of doing. I really don’t know how he does it. He hinted that he has found almost unlimited funding. It’s extraordinary.”

“You seemed to be getting on well with him.”

Pia glanced over at George, whose comment implied he was jealous.

“And you seemed to be getting on well with Ms. Jones. She’s very beautiful, isn’t she.”

“I guess so.”

“‘I guess so.’ George, she’s stunning! And you had her all to yourself.”

“I think Berman wanted her to sound me out,” said George, half to himself.

“What about?”

“About you and me. It would be unseemly for Berman to ask me directly. He strikes me as a guy who’s concerned about appearances, so he had his assistant ask me some questions.”

“It didn’t look like you minded being interrogated by her.”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” A thought passed through George’s mind. Was Pia even a tiny bit jealous?

“Did she ask you?”

“Not in so many words.”

“I hope you didn’t say very much, particularly anything personal.”

“Oh, no,” George lied. He was trying to remember what he did say, but it wasn’t easy. Whatever it was, he wished he hadn’t.

“He did apologize for that incident that I mentioned to you.”

“That’s nice. What did he say, exactly?”

“He said he was sorry. He said he’d been under a lot of pressure concluding the funding deal and had had way too much to drink. He said he wanted our relationship to start anew, since he appreciates my contribution to Nano.”

“Did you believe him?”

“So-so,” Pia said. “Not enough to see him socially without you around. But then he went on to say something I found really interesting, something I’d suspected.”

“Oh?” George questioned. He sat up straighter and struggled to clear his mind.

“He admitted that there’s a very specific personal reason he’s interested in medical nanotechnology in general, and microbivores in particular, and what’s driving him to raise the kind of money he has. He thinks that microbivores can possibly control or prevent or cure Alzheimer’s. His mother is struggling with the disease in a nearby assisted-living facility.”

“Very noble of him.”

Pia’s eyes left the road for a moment and darted over at George. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I had too much to drink.”

“At least it was good wine,” Pia said.

A few minutes later Pia pulled into her apartment complex’s parking area. She hopped out of the car and headed in, leaving George in her wake. The cool evening air was refreshing for George, so he made it last. Once back inside, he drank three full glasses of water and took a couple of ibuprofen tablets to preempt the headache that was sure to get worse.

When he walked back into the living room, Pia’s door was already closed. George could see the light was still on in her room. He sighed and started to undress, another uncomfortable night stretching out before him.

The door to Pia’s bedroom opened, and she stood in the doorway looking at George. “Thank you for being here so that I could see Berman’s house. I enjoyed it.”

“My pleasure.” George tried to make eye contact, but she looked away.

“Do you really have to leave tomorrow?”

“I do. I was only able to wrangle two days.”

After a pregnant pause, Pia’s eyes zeroed in and locked onto George’s for a fleeting moment.

“Why don’t you come in. I don’t think it’s fair to make you sleep on the couch again.” A second later she disappeared. George fumbled with his clothes half-on, half-off, trying to get to the doorway. He didn’t want her to change her mind. Now he truly wished he hadn’t drunk as much as he had.