Polar Quest

13

‘I see we’ve run out of time,’ the seminar moderator announced to the displeasure of the many attendees waiting with questions. ‘That concludes this afternoon’s session. I’d like to thank our presenters, Leslie Siwik of the Michigan State Police and Oswald Eames and Lloyd Sutton of UGene, for their insights on forensic DNA analysis and genetic information processing. Thank you all for attending.’

The audience that filled the 250-seat conference room offered Eames, Sutton, and Siwik an enthusiastic round of applause. For the next few minutes, the three presenters graciously accepted compliments offered by several attendees shuffling past the head table.

Their presentation at this year’s Genetic Technology Conference evolved out of a contract UGene had signed with the Michigan State Police to help cut through their backlog of DNA samples. Siwik, who ran the Northville Laboratory’s Biology/DNA Unit for the State Police, served as UGene’s point of contact for the project.

‘I think that went well,’ Sutton said as he gathered his notes.

‘Well? You think our presentation went well?’ Eames asked, surprised by his partner’s mild reaction. ‘We were outstanding.’

Siwik stared out into the half-empty room with a broad smile on her face. ‘That was amazing, Oz. I mean totally incredible.’

‘Uh-oh, Lloyd. I think she likes it.’

Eames nodded. ‘How are we going to put this young lady back in the lab now that she’s had a taste of the big time?’

Siwik turned to her copresenters. ‘This was nothing like defending my thesis.’

‘Of course not,’ Eames replied. ‘These people are your peers. They wanted to hear what you had to say.’

‘You guys are the best. I learned so much from you both, I wonder why I’m up here with you. Thank you for sharing the spotlight with me.’

‘Share?’ Eames asked. ‘You were only up there with us because you’re a cute young blonde. Do you think anyone would have paid good money to come here just to listen to me and Lloyd?’

‘Hell, no,’ Siwik replied, laughing.

‘Face it, Leslie, you’re just set decoration,’ Sutton added. ‘We needed you to get ‘em through the door and keep ‘em in their seats.’

Siwik beamed. This was one of the biggest moments of her career. She had just presented an important paper at a prestigious biotech conference and it was an unqualified success. Eames had encouraged her to expand her professional horizons and mentored Siwik through the process of preparing an academic paper on their work. After the conference, their paper would be published in a scientific journal for the worldwide audience.

‘So, I’m just a science bimbo?’ Siwik asked.

‘No,’ Eames replied seriously. ‘Bimbo implies you’re not smart, which is far from the truth. The term you’re looking for is science vixen.’

‘You really should have your own calendar,’ Sutton said. ‘Each month in a different, revealing lab coat.’

‘I can see the centerfold now — me wearing nothing but my Nobel Prize medal.’ Siwik struck a pose, pursing her lips seductively.

Eames and Sutton laughed, causing Siwik to quickly lose her composure and join them.

‘Oz, seriously, thanks for making me do this,’ Siwik said.

‘My pleasure.’

Siwik checked her watch. ‘I’m going to go call my husband. He’ll be so proud of me.’

‘He damn well better be or I’ll knock some sense into him. You tell Ed I said so.’

Siwik laughed, grabbed her briefcase, and walked out of the room, still basking in the glow of her moment. As she left, a man dressed in an expensive suit walked up the aisle toward them.

‘Good evening, gentlemen. I have a car waiting outside, if you’ll just follow me.’

‘A car, why?’ Eames asked.

‘You have a dinner engagement this evening with my employer, Charles Lafitte,’ the man replied, only to receive a baffled look from Eames. ‘It was scheduled last week, sir.’

‘Lloyd, do you know what this guy is talking about?’ Eames asked, his surprise turning to suspicion.

Sutton nodded sheepishly. ‘I accepted Lafitte’s invitation for both of us.’

‘Why? You know what he wants and you know how I feel about selling the company.’

‘Yeah, I know. And I’m sorry to sandbag you like this, but UGene’s a public company now, and, like it or not, we have a fiduciary responsibility to our shareholders to listen if someone wants to make an offer. Vielogic’s a big player with very deep pockets, and I’m interested to hear what Lafitte has to say.’

‘Your call.’ Eames turned to the well-dressed messenger. ‘On my own behalf, I accept Mr Lafitte’s gracious invitation.’

‘Excellent. This way, gentlemen.’

Eames and Sutton were led out onto the sidewalk in front of the convention center and found a driver standing beside a dark blue Mercedes Guard S500 waiting for them. Eventually they arrived at Central Park West and were let off in front of an imposing stone building that faced the park.

A uniformed doorman greeted them and, after passing a cursory check-in with building security inside the lobby, they boarded a finely crafted elevator that was a product of a different age. They exited at the top floor into a wood-paneled foyer with a marble-tiled floor and a crystal chandelier. An oversized mahogany door swung open in front of them invitingly.

‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ the butler said. ‘May I take your coats?’

‘Certainly,’ Sutton replied.

‘Monsieur Lafitte is waiting for you in the salon,’ the butler said as they handed him their coats. ‘This way, please.’

He led them down a short hallway and into a palatial two-story cube of space capped by a shallow dome in which a trompe l’oeil of Michelangelo’s Creation of Man floated in the heavens.

‘Stunning, n’est ce pas?’ an accented baritone voice inquired.

‘Very much so,’ Eames replied, turning his gaze toward his host.

Charles Lafitte stood near one of the arched windows that ran along the east wall overlooking Central Park, a silhouette against the lights of the city.

‘This painting has always been a favorite of mine. I am especially intrigued by the point where the fingers of God and man touch — the passing of the spark of life. Perhaps that is the real reason I became involved with biotechnology, to discover the secrets of that spark.’

Lafitte stepped out from the shadows, a man of medium height and build whose most distinguishing feature was a lean, angular face crowned by a pristine, hairless head. According to legend, both Lafitte’s shaven pate and his career in biotechnology were the result of a teenage battle with leukemia. For thirty-eight years,Lafitte chose to remain bald as a personal reminder of the frailty of the human body.

‘I try to let this room speak for itself,’ Lafitte explained as he walked toward them, hands clasped behind his back. ‘Somehow, I feel the effect would be diminished if I were to stand in the middle when someone sees it for the first time.’

‘I’m no architect,’ Sutton admitted, ‘but I must say that it certainly is impressive.’

‘Merci. So, we finally meet. I am pleased that you accepted my invitation.’

‘Thank you for offering it,’ Eames replied as he shook Lafitte’s hand. ‘I’ve heard that your dinners are legendary.’

‘I do enjoy a fine meal and stimulating conversation.’

A petite woman in a simple black dress walked through the archway in the far wall of the salon, her Manolo Blahnik houndstooth mules tapping lightly against the wood floor with each graceful step. She wore a silver necklace with matching earrings, and a mane of short auburn hair covered her head with wavy ringlets.

‘Completing our table this evening,’ Lafitte said, ‘is my colleague, Dr Dominique Martineau.’

‘Good evening,’ Martineau said. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Dr Eames, I have followed your work with great interest.’

‘And I yours,’ Eames said politely.

‘Has Charles regaled you with his explanation for the painting on the ceiling yet?’

‘He has,’ Sutton replied.

‘Dominique.’ Lafitte’s voice carried a mild reproach.

‘Oh, hush,’ Martineau retorted with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘You’ve had your fun, now leave me mine. Do you gentlemen believe in the spark that endows life?’

‘I’ll admit to believing that something happens when you put the right chemicals together,’ Sutton answered, ‘but I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s proof of a divine creator.’

‘And you, Dr Eames?’

‘Unlike my partner, I do still cling to the idea that there’s more to life than the right recipe.’

‘And as you make your discoveries, do you feel as if you are peeking over the shoulder of the creator?’

Sutton shot a glance at Eames, whose face broke with an embarrassed smile.

‘The thought has crossed my mind once or twice,’ Eames admitted.

Martineau smiled. ‘I told you, Charles, he is a kindred spirit. There are times in my lab when I feel just a little of what it might be like to be God.’

The butler returned with a silver tray bearing four champagne flutes filled with a golden, effervescent liquid. After Lafitte and his guests had taken a glass, the butler announced that dinner was ready to be served.

‘This way,’ Lafitte said with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

As with the salon, Lafitte’s architects and interior designers crafted an elegant dining space with rich woods, finely detailed moldings, multilayered wall finishes, and a tasteful selection of traditional art and furnishings. The lighting was subdued and accented by candles, and classical music flowed softly from concealed speakers.Eames guessed that Lafitte could easily accommodate twenty guests for dinner in the space.

After they were seated, Lafitte’s staff brought out the first course — a pheasant consommé with quenelles. At a leisurely pace, they were presented with a succession of culinary experiences: Dover sole with citrus buerre blanc served with a glass of Pierre Frick gewürztraminer, sautéed foie gras with champagne grapes and pan sauce, and passion fruit sorbet.

Eames sipped on his white wine, savoring the skillful mixture of taste, aroma, and presentation. ‘Whatever you are paying your chef is worth it.’

‘There are only a few chefs in all of New York who could match what we’ve been served tonight,’ Martineau boasted.

‘I will pass along your kind words,’ Lafitte replied, ‘but now that we have cleansed our palates, it is time for the entrée.’

The dishes from the third course were removed and the butler reappeared with a 1980 Haut-Brion. Lafitte took a sip of the Bordeaux, carefully judged its taste, and pronounced it acceptable. A moment later, the staff presented the main course: baby lamb chops with persillide and rosemary sauce accompanied by a hearts of palm salad served with aged sherry vinaigrette.

‘Are you familiar with Grenache?’ Lafitte asked as he reached for his wineglass.

‘The grape?’ Eames asked.

‘Yes, a most versatile fruit of the vine.’

Sutton swirled his glass and inhaled the aroma. ‘Is that what we’re drinking?’

Lafitte shook his head. ‘The château that produced this particular vintage cultivates three red grapes and two white, but none are Grenache. In the vineyards of Bordeaux, Grenache would be out of place, but elsewhere it is quite welcome. After the Spanish white Airén, Grenache is the most widely planted wine grape in the world.’

‘What makes it so popular?’ Eames asked.

‘Adaptability. The Grenache grape grows quite well in hot, dry regions, and its vine wood is very sturdy. That is why you find it in places where less hardy vines would wither and die.’

‘Sounds almost like a weed,’ Sutton opined.

‘It is most tenacious, and amazingly productive. Carefully pruned, a vineyard of Grenache can yield three to four tons of dark, exquisitely flavorful grapes per acre.’ Lafitte spoke almost wistfully, recalling a delicious vintage of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. ‘Unfortunately, that same vineyard in less thoughtful hands can more than double that harvest, producing a pale, generic swill best served from a cardboard box. Its use in mass-produced wines has tainted the image of Grenache in the minds of many wine drinkers around the world, scaring some off from some exceptional vintages.’

‘I’ve heard there’s more to wine than just grapes,’ Eames said.

‘Quite true. Master vintners are artists who craft taste and smell into a memorable experience. But even an artist can be limited by the materials he has to work with. Grenache adapts beautifully to its environment, and the flavors found in an Australian vineyard will be different from grapes grown in Spain, Africa, or California.’

‘An evolutionary survivor,’ Sutton offered.

Lafitte nodded. ‘Hence my admiration for this humble grape. Any vine can grow in a perfect environment, but Grenache thrives in harsh places.’

‘There is much to be learned from organisms that possess that particular trait,’ Martineau added.

Eames thought about the foothold of life held in the dark waters of Lake Vostok as he washed down a last bite of lamb. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘And now, for the final course,’ Lafitte announced.

The dishes and glasses quickly disappeared and, once again, the butler presented his final wine selection for the evening — a Château D’Yquem Sauternes. After receiving Lafitte’s approval, he filled the remaining glasses with the sweet wine.

The diners were then presented with an individual Baked Alaska for dessert. Each studied the artfully constructed layers of chocolate cake, ice cream, and meringue, appreciating the chef’s skill while simultaneously deciding where to start. They consumed the final course with a minimum of conversation, enjoying both the dessert and its fine complement in the wine.

‘Everything was simply incredible,’ Sutton said, ‘but I do hope that was the final course.’

‘All that remains is an after-dinner drink.’

‘Gentlemen, this has been a most enjoyable evening,’ Martineau said, getting up from her seat, ‘but that was my cue to make a gracious exit. Good evening.’

The three men stood as Martineau left the dining room. Lafitte then led them into the library. The butler appeared with three glasses of cognac and Lafitte opened an ancient wooden humidor.

‘Cigar, gentlemen?’

‘Sure,’ Eames said.

Sutton nodded.

Lafitte selected three hand-rolled Dominicans. ‘I think you will find these quite enjoyable.’

Lafitte clipped the ends of his cigar, then handed the nipper to Eames. The ritual continued with the lighting of the cigars and the silent savoring of the first smoky taste.

‘So, what did you want to talk about?’ Eames asked.

‘Acquisition, of course. I am very much interested in your company.’

‘The five percent you already own of our company tells us that,’ Sutton said.

‘And you have given me a good return on my investment, but my interest goes beyond money. I believe your research will prove invaluable to other divisions of Vielogic.’

‘Why not just license our technology?’ Eames asked.

‘Owning your technology will give me a competitive advantage, a license will not.’

‘I prefer to remain independent,’ Eames replied.

‘Where do you stand, Lloyd?’ Lafitte asked.

‘I’m more willing than Oz to entertain an offer if I think it’s in the company’s best interest, but our independence means a lot to me as well.’

‘Could you put a price on it?’

‘Yes,’ Eames replied, ‘but it would be more than money. We’d need to maintain control of the direction of our research and ownership of the patents on our work.’

‘I am certain we could come to an arrangement.’

‘There’s also the matter of ethics.’

‘Ethics?’ Lafitte asked.

‘Oz, I don’t think this is the time for — ‘

‘Yes, ethics,’ Eames answered, cutting Sutton off. ‘Vielogic conducts fetal tissue research, does it not?’

‘Yes, in fact Dr Martineau is one of the world’s leading authorities in this field. It is very important work. Lives will be saved because of our research.’

‘Perhaps, but lives are currently being lost because of it, too.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Paying reproductive health clinics to provide your labs with a steady supply of aborted fetuses. Creating human embryos in the lab for the purpose of harvesting stem cells.’

Lafitte nodded. ‘For the moment, it is the only way to maintain a large-enough stock of cells for our research.’

‘It may be a source of cells to you,’ Eames said contemptuously, ‘but I was raised to believe that life begins at conception. So far, I haven’t seen anything in my research to change that view.’

Insulted, Lafitte stepped up to Eames. ‘Are you accusing me of murder?’

‘I guess I am,’ Eames replied.

Sutton studied Eames and Lafitte carefully. They stood just a foot apart, Lafitte looking small in comparison. He understood his partner’s position, but questioning their host’s morality struck Sutton as rude. In Lafitte’s place, he would have been tempted to take a swing at Eames, despite their difference in size.

‘Gentlemen, we’ve all had a bit to drink,’ Sutton said diplomatically. ‘I suggest we call it a night before something more regrettable occurs.’

Lafitte held his ground, staring angrily at Eames.

‘Oz, we’re leaving now.’

The butler suddenly appeared at the doorway. Still looking down at the French billionaire, Eames gave a curt nod and backed away.