“Which is why Naomi is dead. All the more reason not to trust him.”
He laid the ball of crumpled paper on top of the copier and grabbed the knife from Stephanie. He mated the elephant medallion to the end of one candle. The coin was misshapen, worn from the centuries, but the diameter was nearly right. Only a few strokes were needed to whittle off the excess wax.
He handed the candle to Stephanie and carefully unwrapped the paper. His palms were moist, which surprised him. He grasped the gold leaf by the edge, lightly gripping it between his index finger and thumb. He plucked the end of the coil free and wrapped the strip onto the candle, which Stephanie held steady.
Slowly, he unwound the crinkly foil.
The otherwise unconnected letters rearranged as the original spiral course was restored. He recalled something he read once about a scytale. That which follows is joined to that which precedes.
The message became clear.
Six Greek letters.
“A good way to send a cipher, then, and now. This one has been delivered twenty-three hundred years after the fact.”
The gold conformed to the candle and he realized Ptolemy’s warning to be wary, for there is but one chance of success had been good advice. No way to unwrap the foil, since the strip would break into pieces.
“Let’s find that computer,” he said.
Malone 3 - The Venetian Betrayal
SIXTY-TWO
VINCENTI LIKED THAT HE WAS IN CONTROL. “YOU’RE A SMART woman. And you clearly want to live. But how much do you know about life?”
He did not wait for Karyn Walde to answer.
“Science had always taught us that there are basically two kinds—bacteria and everything else. The difference? Bacteria have free-floating DNA, everything else has their DNA packed into a nucleus. Then in the nineteen-seventies, a microbiologist named Carl Woese found a third type of life. He called them archaea. A cross between bacteria and everything else. When first discovered, they seemed to live only in the harshest of environments—the Dead Sea , in the middle of hot springs, miles below the ocean, Antarctica , oxygen-starved swamps—and we thought that was the extent of their existence. But over the last twenty years archaea have been found everywhere.”
“These bacteria you found destroy the virus?” she asked.
“With a vengeance. And I’m talking about HIV-1, HIV-2, SIV, and every hybrid strain I could find to test, including the newest from Southeast Asia . The bacteria have a protein lining that obliterate the proteins holding HIV together. They ravage the virus, just like the virus ravages host cells. And fast. The only trick is to keep the body’s immune system from destroying the archaea before the bacteria can consume the virus.” He pointed toward her. “In people like you, whose immune system is virtually gone, that isn’t a problem, there just aren’t enough white cells left to kill the invading bacteria. But where HIV has only recently taken a stand, where the immune system is still relatively strong, the white cells kill the bacteria before it gets to the virus.”
“You found a way to prevent that?”
He nodded. “The bacteria actually survive digestion. That’s how the old healer managed to get them into people, only he thought it was the plant. I not only chewed the plant, I drank the water, so if any of that virus was in me that day, they took care of it. I’ve since found it’s better to administer a dose through injection. You can control the percentage. In early HIV infections, when the immune system is still strong, more bacteria are needed. In later stages, like you, when the white cell count is near zero, not as many are needed.”
“That’s why you wanted a varied infection rate in that clinical trial? You needed to know how strong a dose.”
“Smart girl.”
“So whoever wrote that report you read to me, and thought it strange you weren’t concerned with toxicity, was wrong.”
“I was obsessed with toxicity. I needed to know how much of the archaea would be needed to kill off various stages of an HIV infection. The great thing is that the bacteria, by themselves, are harmless. You could ingest billions and nothing would happen.”
“So you used those Iraqis like research animals.”
He shrugged. “Had to in order to know if the archaea worked. They didn’t know. I eventually adapted a shell to preserve the bacteria’s effectiveness, which gives them more time to devour the virus. The amazing thing is that the shell eventually sheds and the immune system absorbs the archaea, like any other circulatory invader. Cleans it right out. The virus is gone, and so are the archaea. You just don’t want too many of the bacteria—overworks the immune system. But, overall, it’s a simple, totally effective cure to one of the deadliest viruses in the world. And not one side effect that I’ve discovered.”
He knew she’d experienced, firsthand, the havoc of the symptomatic HIV drugs. Rashes, ulcers, fever, fatigue, nausea, low blood pressure, headaches, vomiting, nerve damage, insomnia—all were common.
He again held up the syringe. “This will cure you.”
“Give it to me.” Desperation laced her plea.
“You know Zovastina could have done this.” He saw the lie had the desired effect. “She knows.”
“I knew she did. Her and those germs. She’s been obsessed with them for years.”
“She and I worked together. Yet she never offered a thing to you.”
She shook her head. “Never. She’d just come and watch me die.”
“She had total control. There was nothing you could do. I understand your breakup, years ago, was difficult. She felt cheated. When you returned, asking for help, you realize you gave her an opportunity to exact a measure of revenge. She would have let you die. Would you like to return the favor?”
He watched as the moment of truth weighed on her mind but, just as he’d suspected, her conscience had long since dissolved.
“I just want to breathe. If that’s the price, I’ll pay it.”