Shadow of Eden (66 page)

“I don’t either. But I do expect to see the rest of President Lai’s billion dollars for medical research. By the way, Pierre was able to get a guarantee of safe passage out of China for our CNN crew. I’ll let you tell Ernie the details.”

“Speaking of Ernie, who was that highly placed State source that leaked the story about Tanggu?” Calhoun prodded with a sly smile.

Resnick shook her head and shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Chapter 149

T
he kitchen phone rang. Anne, watching the TV, jumped to her feet and ran to pick it up followed by Johnnie close at her heels. Anne barely beat him and snatched it up. It would probably be another one of her cousins or aunts calling to tell her that they had seen Steve’s name on the television, but just in case . . .

“Hello?” she answered while Johnnie pulled on her belt.

“Honey? It’s me.” Steve’s voice was thick with emotion.

“Steve! Are you okay?”

Johnnie began shouting and jumping up and down. “Daddy! Daddy!”

Joan and Jack walked in from the TV room, smiling.

Anne leaned against the tiled counter for support, tears spilling down her face. “I love you, too, Baby.”

Chapter 150

Early February

I
t was another flawless Phoenix winter afternoon with only scattered cirrus clouds and fluffy white jet contrails streaking the cornflower sky. A gentle breeze floated over the cemetery, quiet except for the measured speech of the priest, saying the words intended to reassure and comfort the gathered family and friends.

Steve stood at the back of the small group holding Anne’s hand. The graveside service for Shirley Rosenwell had put him into a reflective mood and he only half listened to the sermon. His thoughts returned to the hospital and Shirley’s final days. Over the last couple of months, she had lost all awareness of her surroundings and had slipped into a coma. Edith’s only sister had flown in from Tampa and stayed with her at the bedside. Steve had spent hours in Shirley’s room with Edith, sometimes accompanied by Anne and, on occasion, Johnnie.

The end was peaceful, but they all felt something missing after she died. That night, Steve had described it to Anne as they held each other in bed. “It’s as if someone left the room,” he said. “It feels lonelier because, you know. . . they’re gone.”

It was Anne’s first time to see someone die. She described it as a natural progression to another stage, not necessarily the end. He thought she had a better intuitive acceptance of those things than he, despite all his experience.

Steve thought about Captain Palmer’s funeral three weeks before. It had been attended by a number of his fellow United pilots, some of Dr. Walker’s NIH colleagues, members of the press, and even some Trident employees, stricken by the knowledge their drug had killed him. Shirley’s funeral was much more modest, but Steve felt it apt, preferring its simplicity and directness. It was important to him that it be right.

Following Captain Palmer’s funeral, he and Anne had visited President Dixon in his Virginia home. A staff of nurses and physicians provided round the clock medical care. As he expected, President Dixon was heavily medicated to reduce his disturbing delusions and hallucinations. Elise insisted Steve and Anne stay for tea, but the strain on her was evident. They left soon after with Agent Rhodes driving them to the airport.

Steve’s attention shifted back to the funeral ceremony. He scratched his nose and glanced over at Valenti with Maria standing next to him. None of their lives were the same. Valenti, as Steve had predicted, had become famous with work pouring in from all over. He had quickly taken on a partner and began hiring as fast as he reasonably could. Most were former bureau agents who wanted to work for one of their own. Steve continued to exercise with Valenti at his house and Anne and Maria had formed a quick friendship, arranging family get-togethers on a regular basis.

Steve’s life gradually assumed something of its former self with the medical board re-instating his license and the insurance company agreeing to pay for his house. Steve went back to his neurology practice, but he had been named to a blue ribbon commission spearheading the research into Eden’s disease, officially classified as a new prion disease. One of the commission’s responsibilities included global case monitoring to develop statistics on the incidence and prevalence of Eden’s disease.

With the disease and its symptoms more generally known, numerous additional cases came in; many patients were already deceased and just now getting the correct diagnosis. To date, over eighteen hundred cases had been identified worldwide, with more being reported every day.

Eden had been pulled off the market by a quick FDA mandate and Steve hoped to see a leveling off of cases, possibly within six months; but without knowing the latency, official estimates ranged all over the map. Theoretically, anyone who took Eden was at risk, however small. The popular press quickly picked up on this.

Headlines predicting widespread deaths dominated the Star and National Enquirer covers, each trying to outdo the other in their escalating predictions—now as high as a hundred million. Of course, they also reported a massive cover-up by the United States government to prevent worldwide panic. The irony, Steve figured, was that many of the reporters and editors of those very magazines had to be scared for themselves, since they most likely had been early and heavy off-label users of Eden.

More sinister were the professional doomsayers and tele-evangelists predicting that Eden’s disease would become another black plague, disrupting the economic and social fabric of industrialized nations and creating new Babylons of sin and evil. Since, unlike AIDS, it overwhelmingly affected affluent people in the industrialized first-world nations, some had even predicted all the best and brightest would die, leading to a new dark age.

Determined efforts to identify the susceptibility factors for Eden’s disease and therefore pinpoint who might eventually get it occupied a worldwide consortium of laboratories. Amos Sheridan, working out of rented lab space, had a big chunk of the grant money and already had three expedited publications in print. Three pharmaceutical companies and the National Institutes of Health had announced crash programs to develop medicines to combat prion diseases, but estimated that it would take at least ten years before anything could reach the public.

The remaining management of Trident, those not under indictment, pulled the Paradise application from the FDA, pending further testing of the drug. The stock analysts predicted in print that the FDA would never grant a marketing application to any drug that had the potential to cause a prion disease, no matter how clean the research. Prions in the human population were too likely to spread.

Trident stock had fallen to under a dollar and had been de-listed from the New York Stock Exchange. On a whim, Steve had calculated Morloch’s paper worth. Based on his last reported ownership percentage, he came up with a figure of seven million dollars. Not bad, actually. Steve could retire comfortably on that kind of cash.

The reality, Steve knew from talking to many former Eden users, was that no matter what the outcome of the investigations and reassurances, each day, they and three hundred million other former Eden users would look at themselves in the mirror and wonder when—or if—they would start twitching.

The world had already changed because of Eden, but in ways not easily foreseen. Eden’s disease was mildly contagious, as are all prion diseases, chiefly by blood products and organ transplantation, much like HIV. All donated blood was now screened for prions using Dr. Breen’s new method, and testing was a requirement for public office, marriage, airplane pilots, surgeons, commercial drivers, and for any contact sport.

Doctors had now confirmed that cases of Eden’s disease had been sexually transmitted before the disease had any outward symptoms. As a result, governments worldwide had launched educational campaigns to convince their citizens that if either partner had ever used Eden, condoms should be used. The changes to the dating scene were immediate and pervasive. Personal ads now read “NUE” meaning ‘Never Used Eden.’

Black market sales of illegally produced Eden in the United States alone were estimated at nearly three billion dollars. It became obvious that some people would do anything and risk everything—for what? Steve remembered President’s Dixon’s simple indictment, ‘Damn vanity.’ On the street, Eden commanded a higher price than cocaine.

And the cause of it all, Vicktor Morloch, had left the building without anyone knowing how and had not been seen since. Valenti had speculated Morloch had hidden in the trunk of his secretary’s car, but by whatever means he had escaped, his liberty worried Steve.

Agent Fitzgerald kept in regular contact with Steve and what little he could say in the midst of an active investigation was bad enough. Morloch had cleared out his foreign accounts and vanished. Fitzgerald was convinced Morloch had holed up on some small island without an extradition treaty with the United States. Chillingly, he and Valenti both had warned Steve to watch his backside. While he tried not to think about it, all the same, he now took precautions he never would have before.

The case against Morloch had not been strong, even with his FBI recorded statements during and after Steve’s visit. That all changed with Oscar Perera. In exchange for a plea bargain, he produced a documented narrative of the events leading up to and following Eden’s approval by the FDA, information he had surreptitiously collected following Paul Tobias’ death. Also, a former girlfriend of Morloch’s had stepped forward with a bizarre tale of his ordering someone’s death while they were in the backseat of his limousine. Doug Hudnell, Mallis’s associate captured outside the National Cathedral refused to talk.

The priest finished the service with a prayer and made the sign of the cross, saying ‘Amen.’ As the mourners began to disperse, Steve and Anne slowly made their way over to Edith. They waited patiently until only she and her sister, June, were left. Edith came over and hugged Steve for a long time. Steve looked down at Shirley’s coffin covered with a blanket of flowers. Morloch’s drug had done this and he fought down his anger again.

Gazing up at Steve with her red, tear-streaked eyes, she asked, “Are you coming over? We have lots of food.”

Steve nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Anne hugged Edith and rubbed her back affectionately. So many times in the last months, he had counted his blessings for his amazing second chance to live with his wife and son; he hoped it would be for a long time. Life was so precious.

Walking back to his car, holding hands with Anne, they found Valenti and Maria waiting. “I thought you’d bring up the rear,” Valenti said. “I think we need to go get us some of those casseroles.”

Steve smiled; nothing like an irreverent Valenti to cheer him up. Eying his trimmer friend, he remarked, “You eating again?”

“Yeah, sure,” Valenti snorted.

Without looking, Steve knew Valenti had the bulge under his coat and why Valenti had stuck around waiting for him. He also knew about the frequent cop cars and unmarked sedans Valenti arranged to cruise by his house at all hours. Valenti hadn’t felt like his job was quite done. It was a little unnerving, but still, Steve appreciated it.

“Well, I’ve got an appetite,” Steve lied. “Let’s roll.”

About the Author

As a board certified a neurologist, Dr. Louis Kirby specialized in neurodegenerative diseases including Alzheimer’s disease and Parkinson’s disease. Subsequently, he founded several companies including Pivotal Research Centers, which grew to become one of the largest free-standing private clinical research operations in the US. Dr. Kirby’s extensive drug development experience and work with major pharma companies worldwide provides the foundation for his fast-paced medical and political thriller,
Shadow of Eden
.

Dr. Kirby is intrigued with science and medicine as a driver of culture, politics, behavior and religion. His next novel, about a scientific expedition to find the Garden of Eden, continues to explore these provocative themes.