The Egyptian (20 page)

Grey saw a number of black-robed monks entering the chapel and the squat mess hall, but he saw only one in the courtyard, an elderly monk with a scraggly white beard, gray wire brushes for eyebrows, and the spare frame of an ascetic. He was sitting on a rock under a tree, feet crossed lotus-style, shoulders hunched, face sloped in meditation.

Grey’s eyes kept sliding back to the monk. The monk didn’t move the entire time Grey watched him. He had a transcendent aura, a man whose inner peace radiated outward and vibrated the air of the courtyard. Grey knew, without knowing how he knew, that he was in the presence of a very holy man.

Stefan approached from the woods. “Father Goldmund,” he said quietly, and Grey didn’t respond. “Come,” Stefan said. “We’ll take a meal and coffee in the dining room.”

“Then we talk,” Grey said.

Stefan nodded slowly.

•  •  •

Veronica met them for a simple meal of yogurt, bread, honey, and light fried pastries similar to doughnuts. They washed it down with thick Bulgarian coffee. After the meal Stefan led them to a secluded spot past the stable, at the edge of the woods. Five hard-backed chairs were arranged in a circle.

Grey chose a seat facing the road, and turned to Stefan. “It’s time to clear the air. If you want my help, I need your word you’re coming clean.”

Stefan hesitated. “I owe you my life. I will share, but… I must also have your word that anything we discuss does not leave present company.”

“I have no problem with that,” Grey said, “except I’ll need to inform my employer. You don’t have to worry about his discretion.”

“Your employer?”

“Professor Viktor Radek. We’re private investigators.”

“And you were… investigating me?”

“I’ll get to that in a moment.”

Stefan turned to Veronica as a breeze drifted off the ridgeline. Veronica was wrapped in a blue shawl the monks had given her. “I’m a reporter,” she said, and Stefan stiffened and glanced at Grey. “Don’t worry, Grey hasn’t told me anything. Trust me on that one. I didn’t know about the lab until you blurted it out after we were attacked in your house.”

“A reporter. Tsk. You’re investigating Somax?”

“I’m following Grey.”

“The press has spread many lies about my company.”

“It’s past that,” Grey said. “She has a job to do just like you. We need to work together now.”

“I cannot expose my company to slander,” Stefan said. “I won’t speak further until I have her word that nothing will be reported without my consent.”

Veronica folded her arms. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m in the middle of the story of a lifetime. If your company’s legitimate, you don’t need to worry. If it’s not, then,” she spread her hands, “what can I say. It’ll be me or someone else.”

“It’s not that simple,” Stefan snapped. “We have corporate secrets to protect. If you print before our research is finished, we’ll both be fools. You’ll do nothing but print inaccuracies and help our competitors.”

“Corporate secrets? Like the African villagers?”

“Filthy lies!”

“That’s enough,” Grey said, and faced Stefan. “Maybe you’re not worried about the people out there who tried to kill us. Maybe you have other protection.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was told Somax has ties to the Bulgarian Mafia.”

Stefan shook his head and gave an ironic snicker. “My friend, my friend. Why do you think the police did not come sooner? Did you hear sirens from the hill? The police and mafia are one in Veliko. Somax has not accepted this type of help, at least not that I’m aware.” He paused, then shook off whatever thought he was having. “I have no other protection.”

“Who else knows about the lab?”

“All of upper management.”

“Can Somax protect you?”

“You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Stefan hesitated. “Bulgaria can be a dangerous country. It is likely the men who attacked us have… permission… to operate in Bulgaria.”

“Which means Sofia isn’t safe either.”

Stefan started to respond, then closed his mouth and looked away.

Grey addressed Veronica. “I need to know what he knows. You’re the only one without critical information. If you can’t agree not to report what you hear, then Stefan and I need to have a private conversation.”

Veronica’s mouth dropped. “You’re taking his side? After the track record of his company?”

“Someone just tried to kill us. I need his information.”

Stefan drummed his fingers on the side of his chair. “Maybe there’s a solution. I’m well aware of the reputation of my company. We are misunderstood, and it’s time for that to change.” He stopped pacing and looked at Veronica with an almost pleading expression.

“If you agree to my condition,” Stefan said, “I’ll tell you a story. One you might have trouble believing, but which I give my word is the absolute truth. This story died with the destruction of my lab, but if we can revive it, the public will need to know, because this is a story that can change the world.” Stefan’s voice pulsated, and Veronica was fixated on him. “I’ll let you tell the world on Somax’s behalf,” he said. “I’ll give you full rights to the story.”

Veronica’s voice was husky. “And the condition?”

“You must not report a single word until the story is complete. And I say when it’s complete.”

“That’s a deal with the devil.”

“I need your word. If you hear the story and decide to print before I say, I deny everything, and you have no proof. And you’ll never get any from us.”

Grey looked back and forth between the two of them. He had no idea what Stefan was about to tell them, but whatever it was, people were willing to kill for it.

Veronica sat in her chair, unmoving. She licked her lips. “You have my word.”

Stefan signaled his acceptance with a nod, then turned to face the woods. “The story begins with a package from Egypt.”

•  •  •

“Let me step back,” Stefan said. “I’ve been a scientist with Somax for many years. My career is the science of aging. I have always had many ideas, many hopes, many dreams. Ten years ago I became vice-president of research and development. Others can do what I can do in the lab; the company now wants my vision.” He stood and began to pace. “Do you know what enemy every person on this planet shares in common? Every head of state, every peasant, every billionaire, every welfare family?”

“Death,” Veronica said.

“Not death.
Aging
. Without the process of aging we would not have to die a natural death. And research has shown that aging is not an immutable biological event. It is not even universal among living things. Some species live far shorter lives than human beings, some live far longer. A very select few,” he paused, “are biologically immortal.”

Grey’s eyebrows lifted. “Immortal?”

“The hydra, an aquatic creature the size of a fingernail, is one example. Hydra do not undergo cellular senescence. Certain jellyfish utilize transdifferentiation to return to the polyp, or child, stage. Bacteria are essentially immortal as well.”

Grey glanced at Veronica. “He’s right,” she murmured.

“So you see, the possibility exists. Not as perhaps you think of immortality, not as ancient gods and warriors impervious to harm, but as an achievement of science.”

“I thought these species were too different from humans to be valuable for research,” Veronica said.

“So far, you’re correct. We’re still in the rudimentary stages of aging research. But we’ve made advancements in the last twenty years. Even more in the last several.”

“Have you found something?” Veronica asked, and Grey noticed her hands were clenched. “Something real?”

Stefan held up a finger for patience. “A decade ago upper management convened a special meeting. We decided we didn’t want to wait for the progress of science in the laboratory. We believed the secrets to aging lay in the natural world. In creatures such as the hydra and jellyfish—and perhaps in new, as yet undiscovered, species. And in other places. Rumors have existed since the dawn of man of waters that provided immortal life. Perhaps the myth has a simple, logical, rational explanation. Perhaps not. Or perhaps it is an exaggeration, but with some truth that would have a practical application to biomedical gerontology. In any event, my job, for the past decade, has been to explore the science of aging in every manner possible.”

“I found an article,” Grey said, “in a newspaper. It was amateur. But it discussed how Somax and other corporations have delved into the occult.”

Stefan smiled. “I can understand such an article. If an occult practice concerned aging, and possessed a potential scientific explanation, then I pursued it. I was open to everything. I scoured the earth for the origins of every single myth or legend surrounding human longevity. I’m quite sure an ambitious outside observer,” he glanced at Veronica, “might make such an observation. And I won’t deny that we’ve made certain inquiries that might be construed as an interest in the occult. But I am not a religious man. I’m interested only in the hidden doors of science that form the basis for occult legend.”

Grey leaned forward. Maybe this case had more to do with Viktor’s world than he had thought. “And?”

He waved a hand in disgust. “I found myths and legends. I traveled to remote corners of the world reputed to be home to cultures with abnormally long life spans—the Abkhazia region of Georgia, the Vilcabamba Valley of Ecuador, and the Hunza Valley of Pakistan, the alleged home of Shangri-La. I found an extraordinary number of people claiming to be over one hundred years old. None knew their age for certain, as is common with remote tribal cultures. I conducted biological studies of the population, I took samples of the soil, the trees, the plants, the air. I studied diets, cultural practices, sexual behavior. My conclusion was that they led extraordinarily healthy lives, and nothing more, and that very few were more than a century old. I turned my attention to the Hsien, the immortal beings of Tao legend. Taoists have breathing techniques and restricted diets and yogic practices that appear to allow their ascetics to reach advanced years with relative ease.” He shook his head. “Again, there was no evidence of preternaturally long life, of aging past the accepted maximum life span.”

“One hundred and twenty years, give or take a few,” Veronica said. “As outlined in Genesis, Chapter Six, Verse 3.”

“Very good. As your source demonstrates, human beings have been aware of the maximum life span for an eerily long time. Do you know what characterizes those rare exceptions who approach the limit? Without exception, it is good DNA. Strong, healthy cells. But even with these rare specimens, their cells are subject to the same rate of senescence as are we all. They just deal with senescence better than most.”

“How exactly does senescence relate to aging?” Grey asked.

Stefan nodded patiently. “All living things—with the potential exceptions I mentioned earlier—are programmed by nature to accomplish one task: reproduction of the species. After the reproductive period ends, the organism starts a period of decline, ultimately resulting in death. This period of decline is called senescence—that which happens after the biological purpose is fulfilled. Cellular senescence is the same thing, on the cellular level. Once a cell stops dividing, it enters senescence, and the organism begins a rapid state of decline. The reason the hydra does not age is because its cells do not undergo senescence. Humans age, in part, because their cells do. You remember the Hayflick limit?”

“Yes.”

“Since it was discovered, the Hayflick Limit has appeared to be immutable.”

“Appeared?” Veronica said, with a catch in her voice. “What do you mean appeared? The Hayflick Limit is untouchable. It’s the highest hurdle in biotech.”

Stefan pressed his fingers to his lips. “My decade long search was, I must admit, a complete failure. We discovered no new species that shed light on the aging process. We discovered no ancient secrets. Just this month we were considering abandoning the project—we called it The Lazarus Project, in honor of one of our investors—and returning our full attention to the lab. Then I received the package. A package that has changed my work, my life, forever.”

The afternoon languor had lengthened the shadows, quieted the woods. Grey glanced at Veronica. Her body was rigid with focus on Stefan’s words. Grey felt the same.

Stefan paused, as if evaluating a memory. “A decade ago I worked for a brief time in Africa. I was based in Cairo.”

“The Sudan experiments,” Grey said.

Stefan’s eyes flashed. “Did you know the village was a leper colony? That they begged us to help them in any way we could?” He turned to Veronica. “Somehow that was left out of the news reports.”

She said, “So you gave them false hope and God-knows-what type of self-serving pharmaceutical cocktail?”

“We took the utmost care with our subjects. No adverse side effects were reported.”

“Not until four-limbed children started showing up in nearby villages.”

“Have you ever visited a leper colony? Have you ever seen a real genetic mutation? A child born without a face? Triplets fused together like monsters?”

“As a matter of fact I have.”

“Then you should understand how utterly cruel nature can be. We want to
help
.”

Veronica started to reply, then shook her head and looked away.

Grey put a hand out. “Let’s finish the story. We can debate later.”

Stefan took a moment to calm himself. “When I was working in Cairo, I let it be known, as I did wherever I traveled, that I was interested in acquiring new technologies, or any information of interest, concerning the science or myth of aging. I was introduced to a man named Dorian O’Bruggs as someone who dealt in the business of information. He had an excellent reputation.”

“Criminals sometimes do,” Veronica said dryly.

“A few weeks ago I received a phone call from Dorian. He told me he had something I’d be interested in, and named his price. I asked him what it was, and he said his client was interested in selling his groundbreaking telomerase research. I told him I’d pay half up front, and the other half if the research proved valuable.”