“You now believe Carol died of a virus?” Jack asked. He was shocked. It might have been the last thing he expected to hear from Wei.
“We know it was a virus for sure,” Wei said. “And just today I heard you thought it was a retrovirus. Well, you were right again.”
“Have your people identified it?” Jack asked, his amazement deepening.
“Yes, we have,” Wei said proudly. “We’ve even sequenced it.”
“It’s amazing you could do it so quickly,” Jack said. “A virologist at the Public Health Laboratory as well as one at the CDC whose specialty is unknown viruses haven’t succeeded as of yet, as far as I know.”
“I’m not surprised,” Wei said. “This virus has never been seen as a human pathogen. We were able to identify it because we had an idea of what it was. And we have the best and latest equipment.”
“What kind of virus is it?” Jack asked.
“It is a gammaretrovirus,” Wei said.
“Interesting.” Jack wondered how many more times he’d parrot the word before this case was over. In reality, he had no idea what a gammaretrovirus was. He didn’t even think he had ever heard the term, which wasn’t surprising. Like insects, new viruses were being discovered all the time. And the cynic in him made him question whether Wei was toying with him for sport. If Dover Valley Hospital and GeneRx were doing something shady as Jack suspected, there was no way Wei would be telling him truthful secrets.
“I’m sensing skepticism,” Wei said, again surprising Jack with his apparent clairvoyance. “I think I should give you the big picture,” he continued. “It might be the only way to sway you. Are you game?”
Unable to control himself, Jack raised his eyebrows and cracked a disbelieving, crooked half-smile. “I’m game. Why not? Fire away!” He had absolutely no idea what Wei Zhao had in mind.
39
THURSDAY, 1:42 P.M.
“Before I begin,” Wei said. “Are you comfortable here?”
Jack glanced around at the lounge’s decor, appreciating its sublimity and wondering how anyone could be more comfortable. They were in the most luxurious private home Jack had ever visited, sitting in canvas director’s chairs at the small round dining table with views into a huge indoor pool on one side and an enormous private gym on the other. Jack had a half-full bottle of pomegranate juice in front of him and had just inhaled a freshly made, healthy vegetarian sandwich.
“We could go over to the great room, if you would prefer,” Wei suggested.
“I’m fine right here,” Jack said. “Let’s hear the big picture.”
“I’m assuming you remember what I told you yesterday about the Chinese government, particularly under Xi Jinping, and how it is restricting capital outflow from the People’s Republic.”
“I remember,” Jack said. He fidgeted. He sensed this was going to be a long explanation, and business details weren’t of much interest to him.
“Currently GeneRx and the Dover Valley Hospital are running slightly in the red, which I have been covering by drawing capital out ofChina. With Xi Jinping in power, which looks like a long-term situation after he managed to have the Chinese Constitution amended, I need to find alternate capital sources. GeneRx has thirteen very promising drugs in phase three clinic trails. Any one of those could solve our near-term capital needs, but whether that happens or not depends on FDA approval, which can be frustratingly slow.”
“I hate to interrupt,” Jack said. “But could you speed this up? How about giving me the condensed version of the big picture?”
Wei paused and glared at Jack for a beat. “The dossier also said you could be tactless as well as vocal,” he snapped, showing irritation for the first time. “I’m finding it unpleasantly accurate.”
“I can be impatient,” Jack admitted. “But remember that I am not here totally on my own volition.”
“Do you feel you are not being treated with appropriate hospitality?” Wei challenged.
“Here, yes,” Jack said. “But the ride to get here left something to be desired, as did my treatment at your hospital after I finished the autopsy.”
For a moment Wei stared off into his gym, as if to get himself under control. He then got up and went to the refrigerator to get himself a pomegranate juice. After taking a healthy swig, he came back to the table and sat down. He cleared his throat and continued. “Dr. Markham informed me yesterday that he had told you about how the unique relationship between GeneRx and the Dover Valley Hospital was going to make it possible to bring the benefits of CRISPR/CAS9 to clinical medicine before anyplace else in the world. From a humanitarian and business perspective, it is a huge opportunity. It’s going to change cancer therapy, gene therapy, organ transplantation, and what IVF can offer its clients like nothing else in the history of medicine. I am absolutely convinced, and so are a lot of other people.”
“I’m happy for you,” Jack said. “Sounds like a business bonanza. But how does all this relate to the deaths of Carol Stewart and Margaret Sorenson?”
Again, Wei stared off, this time into the pool area. As a billionaire businessman and active philanthropist, he was accustomed to fawning attention from his subordinates and just about everyone else. He was clearly finding Jack progressively more vexing, but after a second pause and a deep breath, he was able to continue. “Of all of the fabulous advances in clinical medicine that are coming thanks to CRISPR/CAS9, the first one to pay off right out of the gate is going to be organ transplantation. Do you know how many people die every day in America waiting for a transplant organ?”
“Not offhand,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “But I have the feeling you are about to treat me to the answer whether I care about it at this moment or not.”
“You are a trying man,” Wei said evenly, again taking offense at Jack’s acerbic flippancy.
