Mark of the Beast (9 page)

“Okay, I'll see what I can do if I'm elected governor,” assured Roderick, heading toward the ballroom.

“You'll be elected governor, trust me on that,” Abramhoff replied.

“I will hold you to that,” Roderick said as he walked off with an aide.

Mr. Roderick won the election, and on January second was inaugurated governor of the state of Illinois.

 

2

T
WO MONTHS AFTER THE
inauguration, Dr. Abramhoff asked Sabrina to place a call to the governor. Two hours after the call was placed, the governor called back.

“Hi, Doc,” the governor began.

“Hello, Mr. Governor,” greeted Abramhoff. “Congratulations. I told you that you would be governor.”

“Yeah, you did say that,” the governor said. “How is the weather in Chicago?”

“A bit chilly and windy, what else?” Abramhoff answered. “How is the governorship going?”

“We are getting into it,” the governor said.

“Oh, by the way,” Abramhoff said, “do you remember our conversation in Chicago about the HLA project?”

“Yes, I do remember,” answered the governor. “As a matter of fact, I was talking to my health officer about you and your HLA theory this morning, and he thinks that a meeting might be called for.”

“I'm all for that,” Abramhoff said, nodding his head in agreement. “Where do you all want to meet?”

“We are scheduled to have a public health meeting in Chicago next week to discuss the possible effects of a flu vaccine shortage on the state and how to prevent it from happening again,” the governor said, “and I was just wondering if we can meet either prior to or after that meeting.”

“That would be great,” Abramhoff replied.

“Okay, then,” the governor said. “I'll have my executive secretary call yours to set things up.”

Sabrina scheduled the meeting for 9:00
A.M.
, an hour and a half prior to the governor's scheduled meeting with the health officers.

Dr. Abramhoff brought Dr. Achampi with him to meet the governor, but also to get Achampi's advice.

Entering the Hilton Hotel on Michigan Avenue, Abramhoff, for the first time, actually thought about the social implications of the testing. He was previously only looking at the medical aspect of the project. How much something like this would advance medical science, but his attention drifted to the social implications of a linkage, if any did exist.

How would the implications affect the governor?

Would it make the governor popular nationally?

If he became that popular, perhaps he might run for president, and then who knows, he might want to take someone with him from Illinois to Washington to help with health-related issues.

Abramhoff vowed to work hard at establishing the governor's association with the project.

But what if there were no implications? Then the entire project would be lumped together with other pork projects that the Governor promised to his campaign contributors. Just the thought of that made Abramhoff shudder, because he had never been accused of being a stooge before. I will have to weigh the consequences when, or if, the time arrives, he vowed.

The meeting started fifteen minutes after nine o'clock at the State Street conference room.

“Good morning, Governor,” Abramhoff said as soon as the governor and his team entered the room.

“Good morning, Doc,” Governor Roderick replied.

“This is my associate, Dr. Ashutt Achampi,” Abramhoff started the introduction. “He's an oncology fellow at our university, and he's going to work closely with me on this project.”

“This is Dr. Mary Jackson, the state health commissioner.” The governor introduced a smiling, middle-aged woman in a colorful business suit. “Dr. Andre Artis is our deputy health commissioner, and Ms. Kendra Morris is our executive administrator.”

“Good morning,” each said, as their names were given.

“Please, let's sit down,” invited the governor.

There was a brief exchange of more handshakes while everyone helped themselves to coffee and bagels. Sitting down at the east end of the small round conference room table, the governor began.

“I have known Dr. Abramhoff for almost fifteen years now. We had an interesting conversation last time we met at the Sheraton just prior to the election. He very eloquently briefed me on a project that he has been working on at the Kankakee Federal Prison. I would like Dr. Abramhoff to explain the project to you. Okay, Doc.”

Abramhoff explained to the panel his belief that some people are predisposed to engage in horrific criminal acts due to their genetic makeup, and that medical science can identify the genetic markers involved.

“Individual lives are nothing but manifestations of these various genetic programs. Science has successfully decoded the programs for various diseases. The coding processes are located at the HLA site. HLA coding is a lot different from DNA inheritance,” Abramhoff said. “In DNA, individuals are just manifesting certain characteristics that already existed in their parents, but HLA coding is unique to each individual.

“I strongly believe that criminality is encoded on an HLA site, or several sites, and a test can be successfully cultivated to detect it, or them,” he concluded.

“Fascinating, don't you think?” the governor asked, nodding his head at the health commissioner.

“I'm really impressed,” Dr. Mary Jackson responded. “If what Dr. Abramhoff is saying is true, this would signal a significant advancement in science with national and international implications.”

“How can the state…” Dr. Artis started in his deep baritone voice.

“Like I explained to the governor”—an excited Abramhoff did not wait for the question to finish—“we would like the state to fund the project at Kankakee along with any assistance we might get from the National Institutes of Health in Washington.”

“I don't know how we can do that,” Dr. Jackson said.

“The trick maybe is to find unallocated money, or discretionary money, and then funnel it through the health department. What do you think?” asked the governor, looking at Dr. Jackson.

“Yeah, I think through the health department, that will give it legitimacy and cover, especially from human rights advocates and the state legislators,” Dr. Jackson agreed.

“What will we call it?” the governor asked.

“A Health Department Study of Diseases in Criminals at the Kankakee Federal Prison,” Dr. Artis suggested.

“Sounds … okay?” grimaced the governor, hands outstretched, looking at Dr. Abramhoff.

“That's fine by me,” Abramhoff said.

“If, and when, an association is established … what then? Gene therapy…?” Dr. Jackson asked the open-ended question.

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Governor Roderick replied.

 

3

A
T THE BEAUTIFUL AND
recently opened Marriott Grande Lakes Hotel in Orlando, Florida, the American Academy of Immunology and Genetics Conference attendees could be seen everywhere. Dr. Abramhoff arrived Sunday evening at the hotel, driven from the airport in a chartered limousine. He was very impressed with the shiny marble floors, the marble walls, the elegance and ambience of the registration desk area, and how the hotel had that European look to it. The last time he had seen such a beauty was in Switzerland, at the Hotel President Wilson in Geneva. After registration, he was ushered to his suite on the twenty-sixth floor.

Dr. Dickerson had arrived earlier in the afternoon. She was disappointed by the location, mostly because there were no surrounding waterways except for the few small lakes scattered some distance away from the hotel. She wondered if they were man-made.

Meeting schedules were handed out to all attendees at the registration desk. There were so many attendees, registration continued all afternoon and well into the night.

The meeting's opening remarks were delivered by the president of the American Academy of Immunology. He expressed his gratitude to all the attendees, and then systematically went into the day-to-day activities planned for the next three days.

After the welcome speech and few housekeeping items, Dr. Georgia Chambers, the immediate past president, rose to introduce the keynote speaker, Dr. David Abramhoff, who was received with warm applause. Dr. Abramhoff, dressed in an immaculately tailored blue suit, started lecturing, in his usual methodical fashion, about his belief in the concept of predestination. “It now appears,” stated Abramhoff, “that science is about ready to bear that out.”

He elaborated his study methods, the protocol, and also the support the governor of Illinois had pledged at the state level, especially for his research at the Joliet Correctional Center and the Shapiro Developmental Center.

So far, his focus had been to establish a connection between an HLA antigen and criminality. The preliminary report concluded that among hard-core criminals there was a fuzzy alignment on the B Locus of the HLA. He was not sure what to make of it, but he hoped that the next presenter, Dr. Dickerson, from the University of La Jolla in San Diego, would shed some light on it.

After an hour and a half presentation, and then a fifteen-minute break, Dr. Dickerson was introduced as the next speaker. Dr. Dickerson gracefully, and with a much clearer understanding, elaborated on Dr. Abramhoff's presentation. In a step-wise yet studious fashion, she illustrated how the HLA of certain criminals had come to rest on the B locus at position 66. This was achieved using a much-improved chromatographic method.

“We were able to carry out our own studies first at our local police station,” Dr. Dickerson stated. “We initially tested all processed offenders and found that the HLA B66 positives were mostly concentrated on hard-core criminals. Armed with that, we solicited the help of the officials at the notorious San Diego Correctional Facility. We selected one hundred maximum-security inmates who had committed heinous crimes and, to our greatest surprise, ninety-two of them tested positive for HLA B66.”

“I will predict that, with further investigation and more elaborate research, this association may have a ninety-eight-percent sensitivity and specificity, and in the right environment we might even find a one-hundred-percent predictive value.”

During the question-and-answer session, just before lunch break, Dr. Abramhoff and Dr. Dickerson inadvertently presented a united front, answering endless questions about the technical and social implications of their research. While most of the journalists were very impressed with the scientific findings of both researchers, several had some concerns. One question kept coming up: “What troubles me is this: how exactly will this finding ultimately be used?”

At the break-out afternoon sessions, Dr. Abramhoff's and Dr. Dickerson's small group meetings were standing room only, and the questions continued endlessly.

*   *   *

“There will be a formal dinner at the Florida and Everglade Ballrooms. We will start serving promptly at six p.m.,” it was announced at the conclusion of the formal sessions.

Drs. Dickerson and Abramhoff, however, had previously agreed to an informal dinner at the outdoor café overlooking the beautiful swimming pool at the back of the hotel.

“That's a spectacular view,” Dickerson noted. “I didn't like this place at first.”

The sun was just beginning to set. In a slow-motion dance, the evening sun, which could be seen clearly from the café, slipped behind two thin clouds.

“That setting sun is something, isn't it?” Abramhoff agreed.

The Grande Lakes could be seen from the various walkways surrounding the circular pool. The water in the pool itself flowed in a continuous motion, circulating around a central bar area.

Beyond these beautiful outdoor areas, and the Grande Lakes, was a sixteen-hole golf course, meticulously maintained. The water, sprinkling off the golf course, created a miniaturized rainbow across the manicured lawn.

“I knew I should have brought my golf clubs,” Abramhoff said, “but I was in such a rush.”

Dickerson was not as disappointed in her surroundings as she had been when she had arrived. She knew she should have taken a walk around this vast hotel yesterday, but she had chosen, instead, to remain in her room and use the time to put a finishing touch to her presentation.

“That was some session, Dr. Dickerson,” Abramhoff said when both finally sat down to dinner at the Quench Poolside Bar & Grill.

“Please call me Regina.”

Dr. Abramhoff nodded.

“I didn't expect that many hostile questions,” Abramhoff said with a wrinkled forehead. “I was really surprised.”

“On the contrary, I was not surprised, Dr. Abramhoff,” Dr. Dickerson said, shrugging her shoulders.

“David, please.”

“Okay.”

“You realize that we are on the verge of something that may revolutionize the entire judicial system,” Abramhoff said, sounding like a judge.

“I'm acutely aware of that, but why can't some people see that?”

“Part of it is jealousy, part ignorance, and the rest is simply obstructionism.”

After a momentary reflection, Dr. Abramhoff continued, “In Chicago, I met with the governor and the state health commissioner, and there was a consensus on moving forward.”

“You've really gone further than I have. I only had the help of our local chief detective and the superintendent of a correctional institute.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress interrupted.

“Yes, please, club soda,” Dr. Abramhoff responded.

“What can I get you, madam?”

“Late harvest white Riesling,” Dickerson answered, looking at the wine list.

“Thank you. I'll be back to take your orders.” The waitress headed toward the bar.

“How did the five-percent solution of dextrose ethylene benzoic acid come up?” Abramhoff asked.