Nano (24 page)

37.

COL DU GRAND COLOMBIER, FRANCE

WEDNESDAY, JULY 10, 2013, 2:10
P.M.

The air felt great to Zach Berman at 5,000 feet above sea level in the Jura Mountains of France. After years in Colorado, he felt very comfortable at this altitude. Weather-wise it was a beautiful, promising day, with a warm, bright sun and a faraway blue sky, and Berman’s body tingled with anticipation. This was the day when the years of hard work and sacrifice would pay off. He was confident but not overconfident, because he still had a nagging, anxious feeling that something could go wrong, as had happened over the last few months.

But that was in the past. Since that disturbing morning when he’d gotten the call that the rider Han had ruptured his Achilles tendon, Berman had enjoyed nothing but good news. Bo and Liang, the new tandem in the Azeri race team, had meshed well with the team. Through the coach, Victor Klaastens, Berman had circulated a couple of stories in the cycling trade press about these two young Chinese riders who were showing such great promise in training. By the arrangement of the government, a Chinese newspaper had interviewed the two men, and a transcript in English appeared on the Internet and had been followed up by a few Western sports outlets. The success of Chinese cycling wasn’t going to come as a complete surprise to those in the know.

And the success was coming. Berman’s scientists believed they had cracked the problem that had caused the athletes’ cardiac failures, associating it with a kind of oxygen toxicity that in turn created a hypermetabolic state, a problem that turned out to be amenable to subtle changes in dosage, actually lowering the loading dose. Ever since those changes had been incorporated into the protocol, no one had encountered any problems whatsoever. What’s more, performance levels had gone up further, adding to Berman’s sense of comfort that what had been planned for this stage of the Tour de France was about to be realized.

Liang was the stronger of the two cyclists, physically and mentally, and it was decided that he should enjoy the honor. The team was positioned so that Liang’s triumph would be a surprise but not a complete shock. He showed himself to be a good climber, and in two earlier medium-difficulty mountain stages, he had picked up points, leading the pack up major climbs, earning a good standing in the “King of the Mountains” race, a prestigious competition within the larger Tour itself.

At each stage, Berman and Jimmy Yan had spent a little time with the team. A few days earlier, they set up a base in western Switzerland from where they could drive into France and catch up with their riders. Berman had never spent so much time with one person, and he doubted that even the most devoted married couples ate every meal together like they did, not to mention nearly all their other waking moments. Berman liked Jimmy, but he knew the man wasn’t being paid to be his friend. But now, as the two men stood amid a crowd at the top of the brutal eighteen-kilometer climb to the summit of the Col du Grand Colombier, Berman felt he could confide in Jimmy.

“I’m very nervous, Jimmy, I don’t mind admitting it. There’s so much at stake.”

“I am also nervous.”

“Really?” said Berman. It was unlike Jimmy to admit to such a weakness.

“Sure. I know what you have on the line. And I know how serious my superiors are about seeing proof that your methods will work. They have a lot at stake as well. But you are a sincere man, so I am hoping you succeed, and when you succeed, China succeeds. It is, as you Americans say, a win-win situation.”

“Sincere?”

“You believe what you say, and it is hard to argue with that confidence. But a lot of what you promise is outside your control, so your sincerity may not always help you, as it raises expectations.”

Berman was unsure how to respond. Should he be less sincere? Or make fewer promises? Jimmy helped him out by speaking again.

“You’re sure you really want to be here, not at the finish?”

The stage finished in the small town of Bellegarde-sur-Valserine, more than forty kilometers past the mountain, with another, less vigorous climb between the riders and the end.

“No, this is the spot I want to be at. If Liang is leading here, I know he’s strong enough to win the stage. This is what this race means to me, the rider struggling to the top of the mountain, on his own, fighting his pain and fatigue as much as he is taking on the other riders.”

“I know you like the sport,” said Jimmy.

“It’s a metaphor for me,” said Berman. “I’m a competitive guy.” A moment later a cheer went up from the crowd as the people pressed forward.

“They are coming,” said Jimmy.

The police were now fighting to contain the crowd so that they could keep the road open. In the next instant a police car summited the peak with siren blaring, then another car, then a car from the Azeri team and a motorbike with a cameraman facing backward, training his camera practically in the rider’s face. Berman strained to see through the flags—he saw the rider being patted on the back and heard the cheering for the leader. It was Liang, he was leading the stage! Berman had been following the race online, so he knew what was happening, but he needed to see it for himself. It was sweet victory.

Liang looked strong, his face set in rugged determination, breathing evenly. He was standing on his pedals, straining for every last ounce of effort, then sitting as he rode a short flat before the descent began. He reached down and took a water bottle, zipped up his shirt, which he’d opened for ventilation on the climb, stuffed his mouth with some food, drank, and then was out of sight, followed by more team cars and motorbikes fighting through the crowd that had closed up behind Liang.

A loudspeaker was booming news of the other riders in French, but Berman couldn’t make out any of the information. He looked at Jimmy, who gestured with his head for the two of them to leave. Berman followed him and looked down below as the road snaked away. He could see Liang and the caravan following behind him, rounding a bend far below. Jimmy was looking at his watch, then at his cell phone.

“He has a four-minute lead,” Jimmy said. “The rest of the race is spread out, and there is no organized pursuit. Liang will win the stage.”

Although he had seen his rider crown the mountain in triumph, Berman now was second-guessing his decision to avoid the finish of the stage. He realized that he and Jimmy would be stuck on top of the mountain for hours. But he knew that in less than an hour, Liang would win a stage of the Tour de France, and Berman would be halfway toward his goal: unlimited funding for microbivores. An image of his mother came into his head and he shook it away. Not now. He breathed in a deep draft of mountain air and allowed himself a short, self-satisfied smile.

38.

NANO, LLC, BOULDER, COLORADO

WEDNESDAY, JULY 17, 2013, 8:10
A.M.
(ONE WEEK LATER)

Pia stood in the familiar Nano parking lot, composing herself. She was hoping that the trouble she had just encountered getting through the guard station wasn’t a harbinger of her general reception and was merely the result of a misunderstanding. She had been held up at the security gate because she was driving Paul’s parents’ old Toyota, not the VW that she was logged into the system with. Even though the guard had seemed to recognize her, he was not willing to let her pass. What had bothered him more than the make of the car was that Pia’s ID no longer worked when he tried to swipe it into the system through his computer. She explained that she had been off work for a considerable period, and she probably had to renew her ID. The guard agreed that she should go straight to the security station and then finally let her through.

Now, as she stood next to her car, Pia wondered if her nerve was failing. She could never recall such a thing, but the Nano buildings suddenly looked huge and foreboding. The sky was low and dark, which didn’t help, and she felt unwelcome. The origin of that feeling was not difficult to discern, because she had received only one piece of correspondence from Nano other than the less-than-friendly call from Mariel while she was still in the hospital. The letter confirmed what Mariel had said, that Pia would have to submit to a physical before she could restart work, but gave no timetable. Pia knew her hospital bills and physical therapy charges had been taken care of by Nano’s insurance plan, but she had no record of the transactions. In the meantime, Mariel Spallek didn’t return any calls or emails, and recently when Pia called, she received an automatic reply that the voice mailbox was full.

Pia couldn’t help but wonder if she was still a bona fide employee of Nano or if she was in a kind of limbo, such as administrative leave. She had been getting her regular pay statements through the mail, so she was still being paid, but these were coming through the bank, not from Nano directly. She had in her possession letters from both of her surgeons and the physical therapy department documenting her considerable progress. She wasn’t totally finished with her rehab, but she believed she was certainly able to work. She felt she had very little alternative to showing up in person to find out what the story was.

The threatening rain began slowly with just a few drops, then it increased. As she stood in the drizzle, trying to summon her resolve, Pia saw a familiar figure recede away from her toward the building entrance. He had pulled in after her but had parked in a reserved section.

“Jason! Hold up a second.”

Jason Rodriguez turned, saw Pia, gave an embarrassed wave, and kept walking. Pia ran after him and planted herself in front of the much taller man.

“Jason, what’s going on? Can’t you stop and say hi?”

“Late, I’m late, Pia, so I can’t stop, really.”

The man’s eyes darted left and right, avoiding Pia’s gaze.

“Paul told me you came to see me in the hospital, when I was asleep. That was kind of you. I wish you’d have come back when I was awake.”

Jason looked down momentarily and caught Pia’s eye. She could see a pained expression on his face.

“What’s the matter, Jason? You seem very uncomfortable talking to me.”

“Mariel . . .” said Jason quietly, before his voice trailed off.

“Mariel? Mariel what, Jason? Mariel told you not to talk to me? What did Mariel say about me?”

“Okay, listen.” Jason’s attention was now fully trained on Pia to the point that she herself had to look away. “Mariel knew I had gone to see you in the hospital, and she wasn’t happy about it. She said you were bad news, and that I needed to keep away from you if I wanted to continue working at Nano. I tried to say that I thought you were a bit aloof but an excellent scientist. Her reply was that there were a lot things I didn’t know.”

“Like what? What was she implying?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“And you just believed her.”

“I’m sorry, Pia, this job is my big break. I’ve been trying to get a job like this for years. You know how it is out there.”

Pia stared at Jason for as long as she could before looking off. She couldn’t believe it. It was as if she were some kind of pariah. She felt like trying to goad Jason into talking to her and tell her what he really thought since he was certainly holding back. But she didn’t have the energy.

“Good luck, Pia,” Jason said after an uncomfortable moment. “I hope things work out, I really do.” He turned up the collar of his jacket and hurried on toward the building.

Pia needed an outlet for her anger, so she took out her phone and, despite the light rain, dialed Mariel Spallek’s number. It was probably best the woman didn’t answer because Pia wasn’t sure what she would have said. On this occasion Mariel’s voice mail did pick up, but Pia didn’t bother to leave a message. Instead she shut and locked the car door and walked quickly toward the Nano entrance.

Normally, she would walk though the doors and directly to the iris scanner by the glass doors leading into the facility, but after what had happened at the security gate, she headed to the security office as she had been advised. Guests and delivery people were instructed by notices to visit the reception desk to the left of the main door. There were a handful of people waiting there. Other Nano employees were arriving in small groups. It was a busy time of day. Security guards were attentive, making sure people went through the scanner and glass partition one at a time. Pia recognized most of them.

In the security office things were calmer, and she went directly to the counter. After the conversation with Jason, she thought there was a good chance that she was going to have trouble. Pia did not recognize the woman staffing the counter. Her name tag read
HARRIET
PIERSON
. An imposing woman of color, she wore a military-style uniform like all the other security staff. Pia had her ID in her hand, which Harriet took without comment. She was obviously expecting Pia. She tried to swipe it into the computer, but as had happened at the gate, it apparently didn’t work, because she then disappeared into the back room.

Pia waited. To pass the time she looked back into the main foyer of the building. People were arriving in greater numbers, so a short line was starting to form in front of the iris scanner.

Harriet returned to the counter and handed Pia her ID. “Okay, Dr. Grazdani,” she said, “I guess you haven’t been here for a number of weeks.”

Pia nodded and raised her left arm, which was still in a sling with a forearm cast. She knew she looked slightly bedraggled with the sling, cast, and baseball cap to conceal her uneven hair. She was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.

“Anyway,” Harriet continued. “I’ve updated your ID. You shouldn’t have any more trouble with it at the gate.”

Pia thanked the woman. She left the security office and headed out toward the short line waiting to go through the iris scanner. She was more sanguine now about getting up to her lab since the visit to the security office had been so easy. As she waited, she recognized the guard standing off to the side, monitoring the people as they passed through the checkpoint. It was Milloy, the particularly officious guard she’d had a mild run-in with before.

When it was her turn, Pia stepped up to the scanner and faced it. She waited but there was no expected beep. Instead it flashed red for fail.

Pia was trying for the third time when Milloy approached her.

“Miss, please step aside. May I see your ID?”

“Of course,” Pia said, not bothering to conceal her frustration. At least she was confident the ID was going to work.

“One second, miss.” Milloy took the ID with him to a nearby computer station. To Pia’s chagrin, he spent a good three minutes two-finger tapping at the computer and reading the screen. He looked over at Pia, who rolled her eyes and shifted her weight in her frustration at the delay. Finally he walked back to her.

“I’m sorry, miss, your general clearance has been suspended pending medical reinstatement.”

“Well, can you let me in so I can go to HR and try to get my clearance restored?

“Can’t do that.”

“What do you suggest?”

Milloy pointed. “I suggest you go into security and see what they can do.”

“I was just in there getting my ID updated.”

“You’ll have to go back.”

“Look, Mr. Milloy, this is outrageous. I’m an employee here, I had an accident.”

“So I see. But I have no authority to let you in.”

“Call Zachary Berman, he’ll tell you.”

“Zachary Berman, the CEO of Nano.” Milloy laughed. “And what would I say to him? Sorry, lady, I can’t help you.”

“He knows me,” said Pia indignantly. But she knew she wasn’t going to win this argument. She had one last attempt in her.

“Okay, call Whitney Jones, his assistant.”

“I know who she is. I happen to know she’s away on business with the boss man. Why don’t you give her a call in a couple of days, and I’m sure she can help you. Now I have to go.”

Pia could tell Milloy was enjoying himself at her expense. Normally, Pia would have stood there and argued with Milloy, but she found she didn’t have the strength. As she walked back to her car, Pia’s anger increased. She got in and drove fast out of the Nano lot. When she came to the state road, she made an impulsive decision. Instead of turning right back to town, she turned left and headed directly to Zach Berman’s house. Perhaps he was away, as Milloy had said, but maybe he wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t there, Pia needed to blow off some steam. At the moment her anger and frustration were directed at the CEO. He was, ultimately, responsible.

The gate. Pia had forgotten about the gate at the bottom of Berman’s drive until she was almost upon it. She pulled directly up to it and leaned on her horn. The raucous sound startled the birds in the immediate environs, and Pia saw them flee up into the higher branches of the surrounding evergreens.

After several blasts, Pia eased up and the din ceased. Her ears were ringing. Then she noticed the buzzer and pressed it repeatedly. A minute passed, then another, with no response. She then got out of the car and faced what she thought was the remote camera, defiantly putting her free hand on her hip.

“Hey, Mr. Berman, I can’t get into my lab. It’s not fair. I helped you fix those microbivores. I should not be treated like this. If you’re not there, maybe you’ll see this tape. We have unfinished business. You know it, and I know it.”

Then Pia felt foolish, shouting at a stone gatepost with what she thought was a camera mounted on top. She looked up one more time, flipped a finger, and then got back in her car to drive home.