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“I just don’t think
it’s wise, Eddie,” said Gwen. “We can’t split up.”
“Like I said
before,” Karn responded, “no one is going to take a shot at me
right now. I’m still too controversial, too high-profile. If
anything happens to me, there will be an immediate investigation. I
just need to gather some research on genetically modified foods and
then make contact with a few friends who are still doing research
in that area.”
“But—”
“Besides, I want to
visit Jack again and tell him how much progress we’ve
made.”
Gwen, who was ready
with a dozen reasons why Karn shouldn’t wander off , suddenly
dropped her protestations. “You really think you’re
safe?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right,” said
Gwen, “but be careful. Call Mark’s cell phone when you’re ready and
we’ll arrange a rendezvous to bring you back to the cabin. You
might lead our pursuers back to the lodge if you come on your
own.”
The two parted. Gwen
felt uneasy. She didn’t think Mark or Peter would approve, but she
had to know how Jack was, and Karn was probably right about not
being a target. It was unlikely that anyone would go after him so
soon after his public appearance before Henry Broome’s committee
and the subsequent talk about food safety on political talk
shows.
She got behind the
wheel of the Bronco and prayed she’d made the right
decision.
Karn entered his
apartment and went straight to a file cabinet, removing three
manila folders filled with documents. He would take the information
and consult with a few colleagues about the d-caffeine. If Ted
Gallagher isolated the anticipated isomers from Pequod’s coffee—the
mirror image molecules of caffeine—he wanted to know how to
approach the problem. Circumstantial evidence indicated the
molecule was producing seizures, and yet a mirror image of caffeine
was still just caffeine—just like a mirror image of your right hand
is still just a hand … until you try to place it in your right
glove.
This was precisely
the kind of dilemma that worried Karn over the years. On paper,
genetically modified foods looked just fine. And they were
everywhere. Every supermarket in America, except organic markets,
carried genetically modified consumables. Karn knew all the
arguments. He knew that every food consumed in America had been
genetically modified, not by moving genes around in a laboratory,
but by years of breeding and hybridization. But Karn remained
skeptical.
And then there was
the Chaos Theory to consider. Most people knew of this scientific
principle from Jurassic Park. The
dinosaurs weren’t supposed to mutate and develop the ability to
reproduce in the wild—they were originally cloned in a lab from
prehistoric drops of blood found in amber—but they had found a way.
As a mathematician had said in the film, nature always found a way
of achieving its goals, defying the limits man puts on natural
processes. People like Henry Broome could ridicule him all they
wanted, but Karn felt that sooner or later GMOs might either mutate
or, worse yet, find a way to work synergistically with hundreds of
chemicals within the human body in unexpected and dangerous
ways.
Karn needed his
notes. And to talk with colleagues he could trust.
Outside his
condominium, he got into his Prius and started the engine. He
headed down Rock Creek Park. Normally he slowed down to enjoy the
meandering stream on his right, but today its beauty passed him by.
He thought he saw a car coming up behind him once or twice, but
every time he slowed down to confirm its presence, to let it pass,
it dropped back. Was he being paranoid?
Karn passed the old
barn at Tilden Street, recalling the day when CIA operatives openly
disassembled the listening post that had been set up there. The
agency eavesdropped on the Chinese embassy for thirty years! Even
in Washington, things changed.
Karn’s musings
brought him around the bend below Porter Street when he heard a
loud pop under his hood. He attempted to steer left, but the car
went straight. Straight into the creek, over the twelve-foot
waterfall, and into the rotor pool at the bottom. As he spun down
into the cold, he thought about the half-dozen drowning deaths that
happened every summer at that very spot.