“Earlier Dr. Rothman talked to me about a problem with the tissue culture fluid,” Pia said. “Was he referring to the fluid in these baths?”

“I’m sure he was,” Yamamoto said. “We’ve been having a continuing problem maintaining the correct pH balance. Did he ask you to look into the problem? Because if he did, it would be a great help. It’s not been a particularly big problem, but neither of us has had a chance to look into it. I know I’d feel a lot better if we could solve the issue.”

“I’ll give it my best,” Pia said. “The problem is I’m starting at ground zero. I’ve had no experience whatsoever with tissue culture.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you in relation to salmonella,” Yamamoto said.

Pia smiled behind her mask. She took Yamamoto’s comment as a compliment. “What about Lesley and Will? Maybe it would be appropriate for them to give me a hand.”

“That’s a great idea,” Yamamoto said. He looked at Lesley and Will. “How does that sound to you?”

Both students shrugged. “Sounds good,” they said in unison.

As they left the organ bath unit, Pia turned just before exiting. She looked back at Rothman tending to the bath. The pinging had stopped. Once again the thought of the mad scientist in his lair popped into her mind, and once again she shuddered. She’d visited the future in this room and was excited to become a part of it. At the same time she knew instinctively that there could be a dark side. Biological science was advancing almost too fast, and the problem with science is that it cannot be unlearned.

6.

GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT
MARCH 1, 2011, 3:30 P.M.

Edmund Mathews went to answer the front door of his waterfront mansion in an extra-exclusive enclave of the already-exclusive Connecticut town of Greenwich. It was unusual that he was alone in the house, but his wife, Alice, had gone to the city with a girlfriend on a shopping expedition, and the au pair, Ellen, wasn’t back from school with Darius yet. There was no gardener on the grounds, no workman in the house, nor were there any painters, decorators, deliverymen, mechanics, cooks, or anyone else anywhere on the property. The $10 million house was quiet and unattended, just the way Edmund liked it.

This will be Russell, Edmund thought. Edmund and his partner, Russell Lefevre, had decided to take this Tuesday off because their work was about to get crazy. This was going to be the last free day they would have in months, and it seemed like now he was losing some of his free afternoon. Russell had called a few minutes earlier, sounding upset, and said he wanted to come over immediately to talk about something important. Russell had a habit of insisting on talking about anything sensitive in person. Back at Morgan Stanley, when they worked together in asset-backed securities, their calls had been recorded in case either party misremembered the terms of a trade later on. Edmund doubted very much that anyone was listening in nowadays but the old habit lingered with Russell. He was a worrier and he always had been.