A Better World

CHAPTER 6

It was the kind of crisp blue day that made a man proud to own his house, to be out in scrub clothes working in his yard. A beer on the edge of the porch, radio voices talking in the background. Ethan was partaking in that greatest of white-collar lies, “working from home,” and not feeling at all bad about it. He put in plenty of hours at the lab. Besides, what the news had termed the “Crisis in Cleveland” had been going on for three days now. People would be running out of supplies, starting to get hungry. Hungry people did stupid things, and he wasn’t leaving his wife and child alone.

“—expected to address the nation this evening. In advance of that press conference, the White House has reiterated that the National Guard is in the process of setting up aid stations to distribute food and supplies in each of the affected cities—”

One thing he’d discovered about owning a house, the damn leaves just kept falling. But he found a kind of Zen to stuffing the bags, soaking up the small details, the smell, the way each armful sent splinters to float in the air, lit by golden autumn sun.

“—have indicated that this will be mostly an inconvenience, with no lasting repercussions. They are asking that everyone remain calm—”

“Dr. Park?”

Ethan looked up. A man and a woman stood on the curb. They wore dark suits and sunglasses, and the man held out a wallet with a badge. “I’m Special Agent Bobby Quinn, and this is Special Agent Valerie West. We’re with the Department of Analysis and Response. Do you have a moment?”

Ethan straightened, his back singing. “Um. Sure.”

“You are Dr. Ethan Park, of the Advanced Genomics Institute?”

“Yes.”

Quinn nodded, taking in the yard, Ethan’s torn clothes and dirty hands. “Would you mind if we came in?”

“What’s this about?”

“Dr. Abraham Couzen. Could we talk inside?”

Abe? He shrugged, said, “Sure.” Feeling a bit surreal—where but in the movies did government agents show up on your front lawn?—he led them up the steps and inside. “Have a seat. You want some coffee or anything?”

“No, thank you.” The two agents sat side by side on the couch. Quinn said, “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve got a little one?” Gesturing to the infant swing.

“A girl. Ten weeks. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but what is this about?”

“When was the last time you saw Dr. Couzen?”

“A couple of days ago.”

“Can you be precise?”

Ethan thought about it. Abe came and went according to his own whims. Actually, he does pretty much everything that way. “The day before yesterday. At the lab.”

“And you haven’t heard from him since?”

“No. Has something happened?”

Quinn looked pained. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but yesterday a neighbor reported gunfire coming from Dr. Couzen’s house. Police responded and found his back door kicked in. His home office had been ransacked, and Couzen was gone.”

“What? Is Abe okay?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Dr. Park,” West said, “do you know of anyone who had made threats against Dr. Couzen?”

“No.”

“Anyone let go from the institute recently, or who might bear a grudge?”

Ethan almost laughed at that. “Let go, no. Bear a grudge? Sure. Abe’s not an easy guy to work with.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s . . .” Ethan shrugged. “In the old days, they would have said he was brilliant, but that means something different now. He’s not an abnorm, but he’s an off-the-charts genius, and not the most patient person.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“He’s abrasive. Difficult. Dismissive of anyone not as smart as he is, which means he’s dismissive of pretty much everyone.”

“Including you?”

“Sometimes. But I didn’t break into his house, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not,” Quinn said, holding up his hands. “We’re just trying to figure out why someone might have targeted Couzen.”

“Targeted?” He looked back and forth between the two agents. “I’m sorry, I’m still catching up here.”

“This wasn’t a simple robbery,” Quinn said. “They came in while he was home. There was a struggle, and Dr. Couzen is gone. At this point, we’re assuming it’s a kidnapping.”

Ethan leaned back against the chair, trying to process what he was being told. Kidnapping? Who would kidnap Abe?

“Dr. Park—”

“Ethan.”

“Ethan, can you tell us what Dr. Couzen was working on?”

“Epigenetic roots for variable gene expression.”

The agents exchanged a glance. Quinn parted his hands, raised his eyebrows.

Right. Ethan said, “Have you ever heard of the Dutch famine cohort?” No change in the blank looks. “Toward the end of World War II, Germany starved the Netherlands. It was called the Hunger Winter; something like twenty thousand people died. As you’d expect, the women who were pregnant at the time gave birth to weaker babies. That part makes sense. But the surprise is that those children eventually gave birth to kids with the same problems. And so did their kids. In a nutshell, that’s epigenetics.”

“Whoa,” Agent West said. “Seriously?”

“Cool, huh?”

“Yeah. So what, the starvation changed their DNA?”

Ethan found himself liking her. The other agent had a slick G-man feel, but this one was nerdy in a way he could relate to. “No, that’s the tricky bit. Not the DNA itself, but the way the genes express themselves, the way they’re regulated. Epigenetics is nature’s way of addressing environmental changes without altering the DNA itself.”

“But how?”

“Well, that’s kind of the question.”

Quinn said, “In the last few months, you’ve had some breakthroughs.”

You have no idea. “We’ve made progress.”

“Can you tell us what you’ve learned?”

Ethan shook his head. “We all sign a nondisclosure agreement when we join the lab. The work we’re doing could be worth a lot of money.”

“I understand that, sir, but we’re not geneticists—”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t. I’m not allowed to tell my wife what we’re working on. Abe is very serious about his NDAs.” Ethan paused. “Wait a second. Are you suggesting that someone kidnapped him because of our work?”

“Whoever came in was after more than Dr. Couzen,” said Agent West. “They took everything of value from his office, right down to his server hard drive.”

Bobby Quinn said, “Your lab is privately funded, right?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know.”

Quinn cocked his head. “You don’t know?”

“Like I said, Abe is eccentric. He’s been burned before. He didn’t want to risk someone stealing our research and making an end run.” Ethan had a guess on the identity of their benefactor, but now didn’t seem the time to share it.

“Wait a second.” Quinn scratched at his chin, a move that looked practiced. “You’re saying that you do research you can’t talk about, for an employer you can’t identify?”

“We aren’t refining plutonium. And funding is funding.” Although if our results are accurate, funding will never be a problem again. A whole lot of things will never be a problem again. He pushed the thoughts aside, said, “I’m not really sure what this has to do with Abe being kidnapped.”

“Ethan,” West said, “I know this is all very sudden. But I analyze data for a living, and the data here is ugly. Couzen is in danger, and anything you can tell us about what he was working on might save his life.”

What’s the harm? Knowing the goal doesn’t mean they’ll be able to replicate the results. Shit, even you can’t do that. Abe is the only person with all the pieces of the puzzle—

Wait a second.

“Why DAR?”

“Excuse me?”

“If he was kidnapped, why would the DAR be involved? Isn’t that handled by the FBI?”

“We’re working with them. He’s a prominent guy, and we’re doing everything we can to find out what’s happened.”

“But why would his research help? Epigenetic theory won’t tell you who broke in his house. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, looking for fingerprints, sweeping for DNA?”

“We are,” Quinn said. “We’re doing all of the stuff you’ve seen on tri-d. But if you want to see your friend again, we need to know what you know.”

Ethan stared, his nagging suspicion blooming into certainty. “You’re not after Abe at all, are you?”

The two agents didn’t flinch, didn’t gasp. But the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“DAR agents. Huh.” He smiled. “You’re after our work.”

“Ethan—”

“It’s Dr. Park,” he said. “And it’s time for you to go.”

The agents exchanged a glance. Quinn said, “You know that we can subpoena you, right? That you’ll be legally bound to share any information you have?”

“And if you do, then I will. With my lawyer. But I’m done talking.” He stood up, his pulse racing. Part of him couldn’t believe what he was doing, but the other part was absolutely certain he was right. These agents didn’t give two collective shits about Abe. They know what you’re working on. They must. They may even know that you’ve succeeded.

And that scares them.

He walked to the door, held it open. After a long moment, the two agents stood up. “All right, Dr. Park.”

On the porch, Quinn turned, and his amiable pose dropped away. “Here’s something you might want to think about, though, Ethan. Everyone we’ve spoken to says that you were his protégé. That he may have been the genius, but that he couldn’t have done it without you.”

“So?”

“So, Abe’s blood was spattered all over the walls of his office.” Quinn traced a hand down the doorframe and looked at him meaningfully. “You might want to consider whether you really want the same people to come looking for you.” He smiled without warmth as he made a business card appear. “Call me when you get it through your head that you’re in danger.”