Pandemic

19

WEDNESDAY, 10:45 A.M.

The tour turned out to be far more interesting than Jack had imagined. Since he’d seen enough hospitals in his life, he chose to pass the time seeing GeneRx. As he had never visited a pharmaceutical company, much less one specializing in biopharmaceuticals, he didn’t have anything to compare it to. But there was one thing for certain: He’d never seen quite so many biotech engineers all in the same place, and it seemed as if they were mostly Asian and not just Chinese. There were many Indians as well. And all appeared remarkably young, just like Dr. Lin. The only surprising thing during the tour was going through the gatehouse, which required everyone but Jack to show their ID badges. The process made Jack wonder how many pharmaceutical companies had equivalent security.

But even more impressive than the drug company was the Farm Institute, which was physically attached to GeneRx and in the same architectural style. Since it was the inhabiting transgenic goats, sheep, pigs, cows, and chickens who would be manufacturing all the enormously profitable drugs, they were being treated in high style by an army of caregivers and veterinarians. Some of the animals were in posh, completely sterile environments. Although Jack wasn’t shown it, he was told the institute even had its own slaughterhouse, despite it sitting empty ninety-nine percent of the time, and also a miniature rendering plant to recycle the protein. The whole operation was entirely self-contained.

When the tour was over, they returned to the hospital parking lot, where it was quickly decided that two cars should be taken for the trip to Zhao’s home. Stephen would drive his own, with the idea that Jack would be staying longer than the others. After a short discussion, it was determined that Ted would ride with Jack, and Han would go with Stephen.

With that decided, they were on their way, driving north on Lake Denmark Road. At first Jack tried to keep up with Stephen, but it quickly became obvious Stephen drove significantly faster on the curvy, rural road with his Porsche Panamera than Jack in Warren’s top-heavy Escalade. And with Ted in the car for directions if needed, Jack was content to fall behind. There was no reason to hurry. The scenery was a bit of autumnal splendor similar to what Jack recalled from his childhood in Indiana. Except for Central Park, New York City was not a place to appreciate fall colors.

“This area is a lot less developed than I would have imagined,” Jack said, looking out at the stretches of apparently virgin hardwood forest interspersed with rolling hills and small lakes that again recalled Warren’s laconic description of the area.

“It’s thanks to the Picatinny Arsenal,” Ted said. “They have a lot of land. It’s like a nature preserve.”

Both men made it a point to avoid bringing up the subject of the strange CODIS profile match and kept the conversation light. Jack was thrilled with the idea of meeting the billionaire Wei Zhao and didn’t want to put it in jeopardy by forcing the issue. He was confident there would be plenty of time.

For his part, Ted was happy to regale Jack with all the reasons working for Dover Valley Hospital was the best possible position for a doctor in any specialty, truly combining both clinical medicine and the latest high-powered evidence-based research. “Dr. Zhao is a true visionary, with the resources to back it up,” Ted explained. “This place is the future of medicine with his leadership and commitment. You should think about coming out here. It’s a great work environment and living style. We have access to the city for what it has to offer culturally.”

“I can’t imagine there’s a lot of demand for a forensic pathologist like me,” Jack said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ted responded.

“Is Dr. Zhao a medical doctor?” Jack questioned.

“No, he’s a double Ph.D.,” Ted said. “In both molecular biology and genetics.”

“How old is he?” Jack asked, without even knowing why.

“I’m not sure exactly,” Ted said. “If I had to guess, I’d say late sixties. But he doesn’t look it.” Then, pointing ahead, he added, “Slow down. It’s the next left turn.”

They turned off the main road, heading northwest on a road marked as private. Then, to Jack’s surprise, they came to another security gate. Ahead, they could see Stephen’s Porsche disappear around a bend, as it had already been cleared. As Jack pulled up to the gate and lowered his window, he wondered if Wei Zhao was a particularly paranoid individual. Such in-your-face security seemed a bit excessive.

After scrutinizing Ted’s ID badge and then checking Jack’s name against a list on a clipboard, the traffic gate rose. Pulling ahead, Jack’s curiosity got the best of him and he said, “Why all the security around the man’s house? I suppose I can understand it around GeneRx, with all the industrial competition in the drug industry, but out here it seems a bit excessive.”

“It’s been explained to us as having something to do with strained relations between Mr. Zhao and the People’s Republic of China,” Ted said. “He is a very wealthy man and prefers to live here in New Jersey even though his factories in China produce a host of brand-named drugs or ingredients for a large portion of the industry worldwide.”

After a few twists and turns beneath a canopy of peach-colored oak foliage, the scene suddenly opened up to reveal an impressive house designed in a kind of contemporary Tudor style. With the modernity of the hospital and research building, Jack had expected something similar and more Asian in decor, with something like Japanese gardens. Instead, the house and the grounds had a decidedly English look, with a riot of flowers and shrubs. The roof was slate. Beyond the house was a small lake or pond surrounded by oak and maple trees.

Jack parked next to Stephen’s car. Stephen and Han were waiting at the base of a walkway, which had a series of steps that led up to the house.

“It’s a little different than Manhattan,” Stephen said with a chuckle as the group filed upward. “As bucolic as it is, it’s hard to believe it is only about thirty-eight miles as the crow flies to Times Square. Maybe you should think about moving out here. It’s a wonderful lifestyle.”

Jack didn’t respond, but internally he smiled and joked to himself that these two doctors were sounding like they were members of the chamber of commerce, promoting the area.

When they arrived at the door there was no need to ring a bell or knock. It was opened by a slight Asian fellow a bit long in the tooth who obviously had been observing their progress as they approached. Stephen gestured for Jack to precede, and the others filed in after him.

The slender Asian shut the door behind the guests and then informed them that the boss was in the gym and that they should all follow him. As they did so, Jack had an opportunity to gaze around the home. The interior decor was pleasant but of an indeterminate style that, if pressed, Jack would have called nondescript American. Although everything was extraordinarily neat and of apparent high quality, there would have been no way for Jack to guess it was occupied by a billionaire Chinese businessman. The only exception was a large vitrine in the entrance hall filled with an extensive collection of jade objects. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack remembered Chinese people valued jade.

As they walked, Ted whispered to Jack, “The servant’s name is Kang-Dae Ryang. He’s been the boss’s personal assistant for almost forty years. Interestingly enough, he’s a defector from North Korea who swam across the Yalu River in the winter when he was young.”

“I noticed all three of you have called Dr. Zhao ‘the boss,’” Jack said. “Is that just a figure of speech or something more?”

Ted laughed. “It’s something more. Bruce Springsteen is Dr. Zhao’s favorite singer. Dr. Zhao loves American culture.”

It was a rather long walk, as it was a big house. When they arrived, Jack was moderately surprised. He’d heard that they were going to the gym but didn’t take it so literally. But it was a real gym, with every conceivable piece of workout machinery, and was nearly the size of the gym in Jack’s old high school. And any preconceived notions Jack might have entertained before seeing Wei Zhao, he had to trash. With someone who was a reputed academic type, he’d expected a slight individual like pencil-thin Kang-Dae, probably nearsighted with glasses. The moment he saw Wei Zhao, he knew he’d been entertaining a foolish delusion. As the man stood from a weight machine he had been using, he seemed to keep rising. At six-two, Jack was usually as tall as or a bit taller than most people he encountered. Not so with Wei. Jack guessed Wei must have been six-four or even a bit taller. Even more surprising was the man’s build. He had a narrow waist, with broad shoulders and bulging biceps.

While wiping perspiration off his face with a towel, Wei approached the group. His slight smile made his expression both welcoming and amused. He was wearing a tight-fitting black synthetic fiber V-neck top along with black sweats. He wasn’t as muscular as Warren, but it looked as if he had been at some point in his life. He had straight black hair neatly trimmed and totally devoid of gray. His face was round, with wide cheekbones and small features. His eyes were as black as night and shined with penetrating intensity.

Stephen did the formal introductions, and Wei bowed during them. Jack bowed back, feeling mildly intimidated. Jack thought of himself as being in reasonably good shape, but here was a man obviously more than ten years his senior who appeared in peak physical condition. On top of that, he was superbly educated, with Ph.D.s in two subjects, not to mention that he’d amassed a literal fortune through his business ventures. In a competitive world it was a hard act to follow. Jack was thankful his self-esteem was reasonably secure despite what was going on at the home front.

“We owe you a good deal of thanks for your excellent and hard work,” Wei said, echoing what Jack had already been told. “I heard you were remarkably persistent. Way to go!” His voice was almost accent-free and his syntax was unmistakably American.

“It is the role of the medical examiner to speak for the dead,” Jack said. “For that to have meaning, the dead have to be identified.”

“My sense is that there was more to your motivation than your job description,” Wei said. “It was difficult for us to bear hearing the news, but necessary. We have to figure out what went wrong so it doesn’t happen again. We are now a certified heart transplant center with plans to become one of the most active in the country. We cannot have mysterious and unexpected deaths. We appreciate your efforts.”

“As I told the others, it is my job,” Jack said.

“Humble as well as talented,” Wei said. “You are the type of person we are constantly searching for to become part of the team. Would you be interested?”

“Thank you, but I’m very happy where I am, careerwise,” Jack said.

“Who knows?” Wei questioned with a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe we can change your mind. To that end, I would like to invite you to have a bite of an early lunch with me, unless it’s too early for you.”

“That’s very gracious,” Jack said. “It’s not too early for me and would be my pleasure.” Once again, Jack was taken aback. He’d anticipated a short visit with the billionaire and had been wrestling with what to ask in the limited time he’d have. Now it seemed he’d have more than enough time over lunch.

“Well, in that case I think we should head on back to the hospital,” Stephen said.

“I agree,” Ted said.

Han merely smiled broadly in apparent enthusiastic agreement.

“If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to call or stop in,” Ted said, handing one of his business cards over to Jack. Then the three doctors shook hands with Jack in turn, said goodbye, and trooped out of the gym behind Kang-Dae.

“Here’s my suggestion as your host,” Wei said. “I will send you up to the great room with Kang-Dae as soon as he returns, and he will provide whatever refreshment you would like. Or if you prefer, he could give you a tour of our grounds. It’s up to you. Meanwhile, I will take a quick shower. Does that sound like an acceptable plan?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan,” Jack said.