Sam shook her head and washed the roll down with a gulp of wine. "All I can say is that it's real, and it's been used on people. Americans."
Govind froze in mid-bite. "You mean that this therapy has been used in human trials, and we have never heard of it? Impossible. Not even the drug cartels could suppress a treatment as incredible as this."
Sam shook her head. "Not trials, Govey. Actual therapy. This was used on people as early as the mid-seventies."
"Impossible." He took a bite and chewed. "While routine in some forms today, recombinant gene therapy was unheard of in the early nineteen seventies, and just an idea for most of the rest of the decade. Whoever your source is for this document is lying to you."
Sam shrugged and shook her head in disagreement. "Believe what you want, babe, but it's true." She took another sip of wine. Wow, that's good. "Can you undo the therapy?"
This brought Govind up short. He was about to reply when the waiter rolled up with a dessert cart. They ordered coffee and the chocolate-drizzled cheesecake, which was dense and creamy, with just the right amount of sweetness, then got back to business.
Sam continued through a mouthful of cheesecake. "As I was saying, can the therapy be reversed?"
He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, can it be reversed?"
"If we give you a sample of the adenovirus, can you reverse the process, change the gene back to the way it was?"
"Why would you want to do that? Assuming this is real, and I am not willing to concede that this is at all the case, why would a person want to become susceptible to drugs again?"
Sam exhaled heavily and leaned forward. "Because of the side effects."
He didn't let her enjoy her pause. "What side effects could possibly be worse than dying of heroin addiction and destroying your family and your children's lives?"
In reply she reached into her purse and dropped three twenty-dollar bills on the table. That wasn't quite Dutch, but he could afford it more than she could. "You tell me if your team can reverse the process or suppress the symptoms, and I'll answer that question."
"But…. To answer to that question could—will—take years!"
So much for quick answers. "Better get started, Govey. This one's a doozy, and you're going to want a cure. I've got to go."
Amid his protestations, she walked out of Hal's and hailed a taxi.
Chapter 19
January 29th, 8:58 PM EST; J. Edgar Hoover Building, Gene Palomini's Office; Washington D.C.
Gene hung up the phone and rubbed his temples. It was nice to be off crutches, but Sam's news did nothing for his mood. Jerri raised her eyebrows in question.
"That was Sam. The CDC might have some answers for us in a couple years."
Jerri leaned forward. "Really?"
"Yeah," Gene said. He took a long pull from his coffee, savoring the bitterness of the dark brew.
"My God, Gene. All those people."
He looked down. "I know, Jerri, I know." He brought his eyes up. "Still, that's not our only problem."
"Finding the bad guys?"
"Yeah," Gene said. "But we don't even know who we're looking for, aside from someone rich enough to afford a team of mercenaries to attack us in New York."
"A guy who can afford it," Jerri replied. "And knew that he needed to do it. That attack wasn't coincidence. Those men weren't just watching the storage facility with orders to take out whoever went inside." She chewed on it a little more. "So why not burn down the building a month ago? Two months ago? Ten years ago?"
Gene looked at her, realization dawning on his face. "They did it yesterday because that's when they found out those records still existed. We have a leak."
Jerri leaned close. "Somebody in RiC let the bad guys know we were going to that clinic. Or someone in the director's office did."
"Okay, so we use the leak to set a trap," Gene said. "What do we use as bait? The papers?"
Jerri shook her head. "No. He wanted us not to have the papers. That cat's out of the bag." Gene nodded in agreement.
Jerri tried another. "Paul?"
"What about him?"
"He wanted Paul dead."
"That's true," Gene said. "But that cat's out of the bag, too."
Jerri frowned. "Damn. Well, what do we have that hasn't been spoiled?"
Gene triggered his COM. "Sam, have you sent the Lefkowitz report to A.D. Adams yet?"
"No," Sam said. "I've got a few more details to fill in. It'll get done. I can't fly to Atlanta and do your paperwork for you at the same time. I'll work on it on the plane. Sheesh." Even her harried complaints sounded cheerful.