“The problem is most prevalent in parts of the world where the diet relies heavily on rice. That’s because rice doesn’t provide vitamin A. But clinical researchers have discovered that by snipping the phytoene synthase gene from corn and combining it with another gene, they can produce a new strain of rice that is being called ‘golden rice.’ Just five ounces of golden rice provides a complete daily allowance of vitamin A. These protestors may be scared by the idea of science affecting food, but I assure you, the millions of people who suffer from vitamin A deficiency are not.”

The man looked across the room. “But GMOs are just one type of genetic research. Some of the most exciting developments in the field have to do with gene therapy. Consider: What if you could treat a patient with cystic fibrosis by literally replacing the faulty gene causing the trouble, thus lengthening their life? Or what if I told you that sixteen heart disease patients—many of whom were at death’s door—received gene therapy targeted at their hearts, triggering blood vessel growth, resulting in either demonstrable improvement or complete relief of pain. It’s not science fiction; it’s happening.

“We’re on the verge of a whole new world, and it’s all thanks to medical research. Now, if I could get back to my prepared talk, I’d like to share a little bit about what that research entails.”

As the speaker continued, Kathy, for the first time, noticed the man sitting on a chair behind the lectern. A chill ran through her despite the warmth of the room.

Anything the speaker said flew past her as she stared at the last person in the world she’d ever hoped to see again. The same man who’d had her sign a bunch of non-disclosure documents and paid her for her silence.

She leaned over and whispered to the acne-scarred girl sitting next to her, “Who’s the guy sitting to the right of the lectern?”

“You mean the older guy wearing the thousand-dollar suit? That’s Dr. Harry Winslow. I think he said he’s the head of research for some Big Pharma company. He’s the one who introduced the guy who’s speaking now.”

Kathy stared daggers at the head researcher as his attention remained focused on the speaker.

It annoyed Kathy that this man looked so dignified, so respected. Yet she was the only one here who knew that he was covering up some subtropical hellhole. One that was responsible for the death of her boyfriend.

When the talk concluded, and everyone else began heading toward the exits, Kathy pushed against the tide and yelled across the crowd, “Dr. Winslow!”

He looked her way, and for a moment, their eyes met. She saw a flicker of recognition. Then he turned and began walking away.