Fatal Impact (29 page)

51

O
liver was given the all clear to leave hospital. He had been lucky to sustain only mild scratches to his arm. The jacket was the price he paid. She left him to be collected by Steve Schiller. They had homicide cases to discuss.

By the time she arrived in the intensive care ward, Jocelyn was already dressed.

‘I feel twenty years younger,’ she announced. The medical registrar was in the room.

‘I don’t need to tell you how important it is to take your hydrocortisone and attend for follow-up.’

‘No you don’t. I never want to feel that bad again.’ They said goodbye. Audrey had been to visit. Glenn was going to be busy preparing for a business trip to China so had offered to show Anya around PT this morning. Otherwise it would have to wait until he returned. ‘Should have seen Audrey’s face when I said I wanted to chaperone you two.’

Jocelyn was definitely better. Her eyes were bright again. Nothing was going to stop her discovering the truth behind Len’s death.

After a quick detour to her mother’s so Anya could change her clothes, they arrived at PT and parked by the cottage shop before walking towards the boom gate. Jocelyn seemed to have more energy than Anya, with a full dose of hydrocortisone in her system.

A camera was visible on the guard’s station. A guard looked Jocelyn up and down in her jeans, long-sleeved shirt and scarf. Clearly, she wasn’t a high-flying business executive. Anya’s business jacket over jeans received less overt scrutiny.

A call confirmed they were on the list for a visit.

‘It’s easier to get in and out of prison,’ Jocelyn complained as they trudged up the hill to another car park and entered PT headquarters through a white metal detector. Their bags were placed on an X-ray scanner by one security guard and examined by another.

‘Think we just left Kansas,’ Jocelyn muttered once they were released inside a giant glass atrium. They could not take their eyes off the central feature. A circular glasshouse with lush trees and plants reached skyward. They could have been in a land like Oz. Green glass sculptures decorated the spacious and light-filled lobby. It was a stark contrast to the homely cottage shop beyond the boom gate.

A Eurasian woman scanned herself through train-station-style gates and greeted them with a beaming smile.

‘Welcome to the future. Your host has been delayed, so we have time for a tour.’ She led them through a door and down a white corridor to a number of parked golf carts. It felt like they were entering a movie studio.

Within minutes they rode through a number of hothouses containing strawberries, tomatoes and trees that produced both lemons and limes.

‘Impressive, aren’t they?’ The guide proceeded with a monologue. There was little opportunity for interaction, and it definitely wasn’t invited.

‘Beneath us are silos for food storage. We believe we must be prepared for the inevitable food shortages that will come with population expansion.’

‘How do you stop the products from going off?’ Anya asked.

‘Our wheat is mould and drought resistant. Imagine the potential for feeding people in Africa.’ Given the security and underground networks, PT headquarters was more like a wartime bunker than a multinational corporation. She stopped the cart, stepped out and scanned her ID by the double doors to the lifts.

‘She’s either an automaton or was a pharmaceutical rep in a past life,’ Jocelyn whispered. ‘Memorise every word and never deviate from the script.’

Before the lift doors opened, the escort handed them each a glossy booklet. Anya flicked through the first few pages, filled with tables, photographs of scientists in white coats, farmers on the land and topic headings like
Sustainable Future
.

After a short ride in the lift, they stepped out into the foyer and were greeted by Glenn. The guide handed them to their host and Glenn led them through another security section, to another set of lifts. The building was much more extensive than it appeared from the outside. He scanned his ID.

‘How do you get to come and go between buildings if you work for the TIAA?’ Anya asked.

‘As part of the arrangement with the Tassie government, PT funded the TIAA building and allows researchers to use their own laboratories which are .
. .’
his eyes widened, ‘incredibly state-of-the-art.’ He seemed genuinely excited to show them around. In a shirt, tie and dress trousers, Glenn looked every part the professional.

‘So PT owns our supposedly independent Institute of Agricultural Advancement,’ Jocelyn concluded.

Glenn ignored the comment. ‘I’ll show you the sensory lab first. It’s like a Disneyland for food.’

They rode to the fifth floor. The antiseptic smell in the corridors gave it the feel of a hospital. The rooms were all glass-walled. People working inside were visible, like fish in an aquarium.

Around the lab, there were odd-looking machines on benches, with paper plates containing snack foods laid out.

Glenn’s phone rang and he excused himself to take the call outside. Anya watched him through the glass.

Jocelyn moved to an end wall where she looked at a cabinet full of glass or perspex containers, each containing a single item of food. ‘Is this an experiment?’

‘No,’ Glenn said as he came back in, and seemed a little self-conscious. ‘It’s PT’s Hall of Fame.’

‘That top one looks like a hamburger patty.’

‘It is. As far as sensory-specific satiety goes, these foods are close to perfect.’

Anya glanced at her mother.

Glenn explained, ‘People love something with flavour – at first. They might like, say, chilli con carne. But would they eat it every night?’

‘Not in my house.’ Jocelyn listened.

‘They will buy a plain meat patty. It isn’t full of flavour but satisfies everyone in the house.’ Anya was curious. The centre obviously cost a lot of money to build and run. ‘If people like plain things, and you are aiming to feed entire populations, why the need for a department dedicated to product development?’ she asked.

‘Food is complex. PT is keen to discover the bliss point.’

‘That sounds counterproductive if you’re trying to feed populations,’ Jocelyn frowned. ‘Isn’t bliss like perfection? An end point?’

‘It is the art and science of optimising each component in a product to create the highest level of craving. Making sure the food is good enough to eat, but not so great that a consumer tires of it. The perfect food or drink.’

Anya thought chocolate analysis would make more sense. It was the one thing she could never get enough of. ‘Does that in any way relate to your work with vaccines and vitamins – rice, meat, fruit and vegetables?’

It was sounding as if the food being studied was highly processed, and could barely get further removed from nature.

‘They all apply, to be honest. No point creating a new type of rice if not everyone likes it. Take what’s called “mouth feel”. The way something feels in the mouth is the second most important consideration after bliss point in terms of predicting how much a consumer will desire it. Colour, of meat, as an example, is another crucial determinant of whether or not someone will buy and consume a product. Too dark, or too light, turns people off. And different cultures tend to like their meat different colours.’

It was as if he was describing fine wine, not hamburger meat.

‘Honestly, does it really matter that much? I mean, why go to all that trouble when it could end up burnt or overcooked?’ Jocelyn had never been a big meat eater.

‘Our research suggests colour is very important. Supermarket lights are maximised to make meat look red. Some companies and meat sellers are known to put sulphur dioxide into their products; it’s known in the trade as a weekend special.’

‘Isn’t that illegal?’ Anya assumed it would be.

‘Of course it is. Meat starts to go pale when it goes off, so some butchers add sulphur dioxide because it’s tasteless and instantly the meat looks redder and smells fresher. The alternative is adding heart or kangaroo meat to make meat darker again. Imagine instead if we could give them meat that never loses its colour?’

Rather than exposing meat sellers for breaching food standards, PT were competing for their business.

‘Surely it’s cheaper and more sensible to educate people in what meat really looks like. We are ridiculously pampered, if we think this is a problem.’ Jocelyn wasn’t impressed. ‘All the money spent on this research could be going towards health, schools and nutrition education. It’s hardly fulfilling your brief of advancing agriculture, either.’

‘That may be, but government can no longer afford to subsidise research. In some cases, there isn’t a bliss point, but a bliss range, which can mean massive savings to a company, increased employment and expanding into projects that benefit communities.’

Glenn passionately believed in what he was doing.

He indicated a potato crisp which had pride of place in the cabinet.

‘The natural sugar – starch – in the potato is readily absorbed. It results in glucose levels rising, so creates a craving,’ Glenn said. ‘What I’m working on are potatoes with lower carbohydrates, which would be lower GI for the health conscious, and as a bonus, absorb less fat. My specific focus is maximising nutritional content of food.’

Anya doubted that the company had any intention of marketing the low GI potato to third-world countries. People in first-world countries would rush to buy anything containing a healthier potato, especially potato crisps that would still contain all the fat, additives, salt, and artificial flavours they were drawn to.

PT’s goal was to have consumers addicted to its products, at any cost. With the full support of the state government and local people.

52

W
hile Jocelyn sat and rested, Anya asked if it was possible to see the science facilities. Glenn seemed happy to oblige and showed her into an adjacent lab. A petri dish containing a grain of rice became his focus.

‘I’m working on a type of rice that can vaccinate against malaria. If we increase the protein content, it will be a true superfood that actually saves lives. From there, we could breed it to grow in minimal water. The possibilities with the science are endless.’ He had an almost religious fervour.

‘Isn’t the science still controversial?’

He crossed his arms and tugged at his beard. ‘People in desperate need don’t care where the food or life-saving treatments come from. If a company funds development of life-saving technology that otherwise wouldn’t exist, humanity is better off. If we have the capability and don’t utilise it, our neglect has cost millions of lives. I see it as a moral duty.’

‘What about the anti-GM arguments?’ Anya wanted to know if Glenn really was a zealot or had a balanced view of the topic; if he would mention studies like those performed by Millard.

He pulled up a laboratory stool and offered Anya one, which she took.

‘Most of them are proposed by groups like POWER who declare to the world that they keep the bastards honest. It turns out they have become a monopolising corporate giant. Just like the ones they claim they want to destroy.’

Anya had seen the ads and contributed to non-profit groups like Doctors Without Borders herself. ‘Except that they survive on public donations.’

‘Two hundred million dollars isn’t exactly small change. And in organisations that oppose and vilify, the most extreme and aggressive types get to the top. They fly business class, stay in top hotels, lobby politicians. How are they any different from business executives?’

He had a valid point. It hadn’t occurred to Anya that an environmentalist group would be such big business. That money had to be managed. And to function, there had to be a structural hierarchy, just like in any large organisation. She wondered where Alison Blainey fitted into POWER.

‘And there are arguments that GM foods so far haven’t lived up to the promises of increased yields over the last fifteen years or more.’

He raised both hands. ‘That doesn’t mean they won’t. It means we haven’t got it right. Yet. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t honestly believe that we can make a difference. Look how penicillin changed the world. It takes on average fifteen years for vaccines to get to poorer populations. What if we can get vaccines to people quicker in their food and overcome the challenges of growing crops in arid regions with large populations? How can that be wrong?’

Audrey’s son had her intensity and knew the art of persuasion.

‘What about the potential for corruption?’ Anya argued. ‘Giant corporations aren’t charities. They won’t feed the world without making a sizeable profit. It’s in their best interests to generate terminator genes that stop farmers reusing seed they have already bought.’

‘True, but look at medicines. The checks and studies are so rigorous it now takes up to $4 billion to develop, test and get approval for a new drug. Only the largest pharmaceutical companies can afford to bring them to the public. Most people don’t have any idea how much work goes into a simple capsule they don’t think twice about popping.’ A machine beeped behind an interconnecting glass door. In the next room, another researcher attended to it.

Anya had been waiting for an opportunity to show Glenn the chromatograph report from the contents of Patsy Gallop’s drink bottle. She pulled the piece of paper from her jeans pocket and unfolded it on the bench top. He had been in Jocelyn’s house and could have been the one looking for something among her mother’s files. And whatever Moss, Craig Dengate and PT’s CEO were involved in at that supposed emergency meeting in the restaurant, Glenn was a part of.

She decided to challenge him and see his reaction to what she had learnt from the logbooks. ‘I was wondering if you recognised this particular formulation.’

She knew Glenn hadn’t been working at TIAA when Patsy was killed, but hoped he may recognise what else could have been added to the bottle.

‘You’re full of surprises.’ He looked down the nose of reading glasses to study the page. He stared closer and ran along the bottom axis with his index finger before turning his back to the door. His face tensed. ‘Where did you get this?’ he whispered.

He clearly recognised something on it.

Anya’s heart raced. ‘It was involved in a crime.’ She looked for any reaction.

‘I don’t understand .
. .
It’s impossible.’

‘Why? What’s in it?’

He spoke in hushed tones. ‘Our formulae are patented and top secret. We don’t want competitors producing the same things. Industrial espionage is real,’ he urged. ‘This is important. What possible crime–?’

‘It’s the analysis of the remaining contents of Patsy Gallop’s drink bottle.’

He put an elbow on the desk and leant on his hand. ‘Can’t be. The head of the lab poisoned her with the selenium solution. Mum sat in at the trial.’

‘I have proof the toxin can’t have come from that bottle in the lab.’

Glenn lowered his eyes to meet Anya’s, as if double-checking the implication. ‘If you’re right, then someone with restricted access from inside PT killed her.’

Anya felt a galloping in her chest. Glenn could have denied recognising the print out. Instead, he was implicating someone within the company. She needed to trust him.

‘Can you tell me what it is?’ she asked softly.

He moved to a computer and typed a password while Anya looked towards the adjoining room. Within minutes he had pulled up a number of graphs and hit the print button. A worker entered and took her place at a microscope.

‘This place is better resourced than anywhere I’ve worked in the world,’ Glenn announced as he reached for the printer.

He laid a number of sheets on the bench.

The worker glanced over and then returned to the microscope.

Glenn scooped up the papers and bumped a petri dish with capsule shells in it.

‘You can take these examples of printouts back to your pathology lab. They should consider one of these for toxicology. Expensive but well worth the investment.’ He spoke a little louder. ‘For security reasons the samples aren’t identifiable.’

Anya presumed visitors could be searched before departure. Staff were possibly afforded the same treatment. She took Glenn’s cue.

‘Thanks so much for the tour, it’s been fascinating. Very impressive.’

‘Let’s go get your mother and I’ll walk you both back down to security,’ Glenn said.

The colleague didn’t look up or speak.

In the elevator on the way down, Glenn remained silent. She assumed the lifts were monitored.

Before he opened the glass barriers they’d come in through, he hugged Jocelyn, then turned to Anya and extended his arms. She felt awkward moving into his embrace.

He spoke into her ear. ‘The selenium is freely available but the rest of the chemical composition is unique to us. A twenty-four-hour slow-release capsule casing.’ He placed what felt like a capsule in her hand as she stepped back.

Anya kissed his cheek as the barrier opened so they could exit.

Someone had put capsules filled with selenium into Patsy Gallop’s drink. And if they were slow release, there had been a large window of opportunity. She had died on a Monday, so anyone who’d had access to the drink bottle on the Sunday could have been responsible.

She and her mother headed for the doors.

‘Excuse me.’ The security man stepped in front of them. ‘We have orders to search you.’