Cutter’s use of the word prion was worrisome. Prions were infectious proteins responsible for such maladies as mad cow disease in bovines and Creutzfeldt-Jakob in humans. The clinical symptoms of such infections were invariably neurological in nature, usually affecting the brain. Worst of all, these diseases were incurable and often fatal.
Cutter lifted the vials higher. “Now you must show me how to combine our work. Your shell and my genetic code.” He put the two tubes into one hand and passed them to Kendall.
He reluctantly accepted them. “What does your code do?”
Cutter chided him with a wave of a gloved finger, then pointed to the workstation. “First you show me proof of concept. Show me that your success in California wasn’t a fluke.”
From this statement, Kendall could tell how galling it must be for Cutter to come begging for his help. Rather than accept that someone had accomplished what he could not, he would rather dismiss Kendall’s accomplishment as dumb luck or a fluke. As much as Cutter had been changed after his mauling by a lion, his conceit remained perfectly intact.
“It will still take some time,” Kendall stalled. “I’ll need a complete DNA analysis of your code to find a way to insert it into the shell.”
“It’s already stored on the computer at your station.”
“I’d like to do a complete analysis myself.”
Suspicion lowered Cutter’s left eyebrow. “Why repeat what’s already been done?”
“It’s a necessary part of my procedure. I’ll likely have to alter your code, add a key sequence to unlock that shell.”
At least that much was true.
Perhaps recognizing the logic of his statement, Cutter sighed and nodded. “Then get to work.”
Before the man could turn away, Kendall stopped him. “I’ve agreed to cooperate. Can’t you tell me how to stop the contagion in California?”
Before it’s too late.
Cutter looked like he was actually considering this request. Finally, his eyes settled on Kendall. “I’ll give you part of the solution, if you tell me more about how this key unlocks your shell. I have to say that intrigues me enough to perhaps show a little goodwill.”
Kendall licked his dry lips, knowing he had to tiptoe carefully. He had to give Cutter enough information to be believed—the man was no fool—but not enough to show his hand completely.
Kendall cleared his throat. “Are you familiar with the media attention given to the Scripps Research Institute back in May 2014? After they announced the creation of a living, replicating colony of bacteria that contained new letters of the genetic alphabet?”
Cutter squinted in thought. “You’re referring to them inserting artificial nucleotide bases into a bacterium’s DNA.”
He nodded. It was groundbreaking work. All of life’s diversity on this planet—from slime mold to human beings—was based on a simple genetic alphabet of only four letters: A, C, G, and T. It was from the jumbling of those four letters that the riotous bounty of species arose on earth. But for the first time, the researchers at Scripps engineered a living bacterium with two additional letters in its genetic code: naming them X and Y.
“What about it?” Cutter asked.
“I did something similar,” Kendall admitted. “Using the CRISPR technique, I was able to clip out sections of old viral DNA and replace them with foreign pieces of XNA. It is that exact sequence of XNA genes—and no other—that acts like a key to unlock the shell.”
“Giving life to your creation.” Cutter smiled. “That’s why I kept failing. I didn’t have that key.”
And I hope you never get it.
“I should’ve thought of it myself,” Cutter said. “That viral capsid, that perfect shell . . . you engineered its unusual configuration by producing proteins from XNA genes. So naturally to insert genetic material into that shell, it might take a specific sequence of XNA markers for the shell to accept it.”
“A key to match the lock,” Kendall said. “That was my breakthrough.”
Or at least part of it.
“Ingenious, Kendall. You impress me.”
“So if you’re satisfied, can you share more details about the cure?”
It was Kendall’s only hope. If he could figure out the solution on his own, then maybe he wouldn’t have to give that bastard the recipe for arming the viral capsid.
“Fair enough,” Cutter agreed. “First, you may remember how I mentioned earlier that the solution to annihilating your creation—to neutralizing it—was staring you and Harrington in the face all along. Like your solution with the key, it’s all about XNA.”
“How so?”
“What you sadly have failed to ask yourselves is why that exotic shadow biosphere has remained encapsulated in Antarctica for millennia, especially when there is an entire world out there almost defenseless against its aggressive and unique nature.”
“What’s the answer?”
“You hand me the key, and I’ll give you that answer . . . and the method to turn it to your advantage in California.”
Kendall didn’t press the matter, knowing that was as much as he would get out of the man.
Cutter swung away again. “I’ll leave you to your work. We have a guest arriving soon to whom I wish to speak.” He glanced back at Kendall. “But I’ll expect results when I get back. Trust me when I say, you don’t want to disappoint me.”
Kendall watched him leave through the room’s air lock. In the main lab beyond, the hulking figure of Mateo stood guard, making sure Kendall stayed put.
With no other choice, Kendall began his study of Cutter’s unique piece of genetic code, the very material he wanted to insert into Kendall’s perfect genetic delivery system.
But what was it? What was its purpose?
If I could discover that, I might find a way to stop him.
And if nothing else, working on this code would put off the moment when he must eventually tell Cutter the truth: that the key he wanted so badly was out of his reach. Kendall could not reproduce it here. To engineer that key, he would first need the lymphocytes from a singular species in that biosphere. Its XNA was so unique that it couldn’t be synthesized in any lab. It required a living sample to build that key.
But how long can I keep that secret?
For now all he could do was delay for as long as possible.
But to what end? he wondered. Who can help me?
11:55 A.M.