Part 13 (1/2)

Around her, men and women in b.l.o.o.d.y ap.r.o.ns worked throughout the lab, oblivious to the horror. It was an efficient operation, a macabre dance of medical professionals.

A tall man, skeletally thin, lifted an arm in greeting and waved her over. Lauren nodded and slipped past a woman tilting a hanging tray and sliding Gerald Clark's liver into a waste bag.

”What did you find, Stanley?” Lauren asked as she approached the worktable.

Dr. Hibbert pointed down, his voice m.u.f.fled by his surgical mask. ”I wanted you to see this before we cut it out:'

They stood at the head of the slanted table holding Gerald Clark's body. Bile, blood, and other bodily fluids flowed in trickles to the catch bucket at the other end. Closer at hand, the top of Gerald Clark's skull had been sawed open, exposing the brain beneath.

”Look here,” Stanley said, leaning closer to the purplish brain.

With a thumb forceps, the pathologist carefully pulled back the outer meningeal membranes, as if drawing back a curtain. Beneath the membranes, the gyri and folds of the cerebral cortex were plainlyvisible, traced with darker arteries and veins.

”While dissecting the brain from the cranium, we found this:'

Dr. Hibbert separated the right and left hemispheres of the cerebrum. In the groove between the two sections of the brain lay a walnut-size ma.s.s. It seemed to be nestled atop the corpus callosum, a whitish channel of nerves and vessels that connected the two hemispheres.

Stanley glanced at her. ”It's another teratoma . . . or maybe a teratocar-cinoma, if it's like all the others.

But watch this. I've never seen anything like this:” Using his thumb forceps, he touched the ma.s.s.

”Dear G.o.d!” Lauren jumped as the tumor flinched away from the tip of his forceps. ”It . . . it's moving!”

”Amazing, isn't it? That's why I wanted you to see it. I've read about this property of some teratomic ma.s.ses. An ability to respond to external stimuli. There was one case even of a well-differentiated teratoma that had enough cardiac muscle to beat like a heart:”

Lauren finally found her voice. ”But Gerald Clark's been dead for two weeks:'

Stanley shrugged. ”I imagine, considering where it's located, that it's rich with nerve cells. And a good portion of them must still be viable enough to respond weakly to stimulation. But I expect this ability will quickly fade as the nerves lose juice and the tiny muscles exhaust their reserve calcium:'

Lauren took a few deep breaths to collect her thoughts. ”Even so, the ma.s.s must be highly organized to develop a flinch reflex:”

”Undoubtedly . . . quite organized. I'll have it sectioned and slides a.s.sembled ASAP” Stanley straightened. ”But I thought you'd appreciate personally seeing it in action first:”

Lauren nodded. Her eyes s.h.i.+fted from the tumor in the brain to the corpse's arm. A sudden thought rose in her mind. ”I wonder,” she mumbled.

”What?”

Lauren pictured how the ma.s.s had twitched. ”The number of the teratomas and the mature development of this particular tumor could be clues to the mechanism by which Clark's arm grew back:”

The pathologist's eyes narrowed. ”I'm not following you.”

Lauren faced him, glad to find something else to stare at than the ravaged body. ”What I'm saying is-and this is just a conjecture, of course-what if the man's arm is just a teratoma that grew into a fully functioning limb?”

Stanley's brows rose high. ”Like some form of controlled cancer growth? Like a living, functioning tumor?”

”Why not? That's pretty much how we all developed. From one fertilized cell, our bodies formed through rapid cellular proliferation, similar to cancer. Only this profusion of cellsdifferentiated into all the proper tissues. I mean, isn't that the goal of most stem cell research? To discover the mechanism for thiscontrolled growth? What causes one cell to become a bone cell and its neighbour a muscle cell and the one after that a nerve cell?” Lau-ren stared at the splayed corpse of Gerald Clark, not in horror any longer but in wonder. ”We may be on our way to answering that very mystery.”

”And if we could succeed in discovering the mechanism . . .”

”It would mean the end of cancer and would revolutionize the entire medical field:”

Stanley shook his head and swung away, returning to his b.l.o.o.d.y work. ”Then let's pray your son and daughter succeed in their search:”

Lauren nodded and retreated back across the morgue. She checked her watch. Speaking of Frank and Kelly, it was getting close to the designated conference call. Time to compare notes. Lauren glanced back one last time to the ruin that was left of Gerald Wallace Clark. ”Something's out in that jungle,” she mumbled to herself. ”But what?”

AUGUST 7, 8:32 PM.

AMAZON JUNGLE.

Kelly stood off from the others, trying her best to a.s.similate the news her mother had reported. She stared out into the jungle, serenaded by the end-less chorus of locusts and river frogs. Firelight failed to penetrate more than a few yards into the shadowed depths of the forest. Beyond the glow, the jungle hid its mysteries.

Closer at hand, a group of Rangers knelt, setting up the camp's perimeter motion-sensor system. The laser grid, rigged a few feet off the ground and established between the jungle and the camp, was meant to keep any large predator from wandering too near without being detected.

Kelly stared beyond their labors to the dark forest.

What had happened to Agent Clark out there?

A voice spoke near her shoulder, startling her. ”Gruesome news indeed.”

Kelly glanced over and found Professor Kouwe standing quietly at her side. How long had he been there? Clearly the shaman had not lost his innate abilities to move noiselessly across the forest floor. ”Y . .

. Yes,” she stammered. ”Very disturbing:” Kouwe slipped out his pipe and began stoking it with tobacco, then lit it with a fiery flourish. The pungent odor of smoky tobacco welled around them. ”And what of your mother's belief that the cancers and the regenerated arm might be connected?”

”It's intriguing . . . and perhaps not without merit:”

”How so?”

Kelly rubbed the bridge of her nose and gathered her thoughts. ”Before I left the States to come here, I did a literature search on the subject of regeneration. I figured it might better prepare me for anything we find.”

”Hmm . . . very wise. When it comes to the jungle, preparation and knowledge can mean the difference between life and death:'

Kelly nodded and continued with her thoughts, glad to express them aloud and bounce them off someone else. ”While conducting this research, I came across an interesting article in theProceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. Back in 1999, a research team in Philadelphia raised a group of mice with damaged immune systems. The mice were to be used as a model to study multiple sclerosis and AIDS. But as they began working with the immune-compromised creatures, an odd and unexpected phenomenon developed:”

Kouwe turned to her, one eyebrow raised. ”And what was that?”