Chromosome 6. Chapter 5, 6
CHAPTER 5
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MARCH 5, 1997
10:15 A.M.
COGO, EQUATORIAL GUINEA
KEVIN replaced the tissue culture flasks in the incubator and closed the
door. He’d been working since before dawn. His current quest was to find
a transponase to handle a minor histocompatibility gene on the Y
chromosome. It had been eluding him for over a month despite his use of
the technique that had resulted in his finding and isolating the
transponases associated with the short arm of chromosome 6.
Kevin’s usual schedule was to arrive at the lab around eight-thirty, but
that morning he’d awakened at four a.m. and had not been able to fall
back to sleep. After tossing and turning for three-quarters of an hour,
he’d decided he might as well use the time for good purpose. He’d
arrived at his lab at five a.m. while it was still pitch dark.
What was troubling Kevin’s sleep was his conscience. The nagging notion
that he’d made a Promethean mistake resurfaced with a vengeance.
Although Dr. Lyons’s mention of building his own lab had assuaged him at
the time, it didn’t last. Lab of his dreams or no, he couldn’t deny the
horror he feared was evolving on Isla Francesca.
Kevin’s feelings had nothing to do with seeing more smoke. He hadn’t,
but as dawn broke, he’d also consciously avoided looking out the window
much less in the direction of the island.
Kevin realized he couldn’t go on like this. He decided that the most
rational course of action would be to find out if his fears were
justified. The best way to do it, he surmised, was to approach someone
close to the situation who might be able to shed some light on Kevin’s
area of concern. But Kevin didn’t feel comfortable talking with many
people in the Zone. He’d never been very social, especially in Cogo,
where he was the sole academician. But there was one working in the Zone
with whom he felt slightly more comfortable, mainly because he admired
his work: Bertram Edwards, the chief veterinarian.
Impulsively Kevin removed his lab coat, draped it over his chair, and
headed out of his office. Descending to the first floor, he exited into
the steamy heat of the parking area north of the hospital. The morning
weather was clear, with white, puffy cumuli clouds overhead. There were
some dark rain clouds looming, but they were out over the ocean in a
clump along the western horizon; if they brought rain, it wouldn’t be
before the afternoon.
Kevin climbed into his Toyota four-wheel drive and turned right out of
the hospital parking lot. Traversing the north side of the town square,
he passed the old Catholic church. GenSys had renovated the building to
function as the recreational center. On Friday and Saturday nights they
showed movies. Monday nights they had bingo. In the basement was a
commissary serving American hamburgers.
Bertram Edwards’s office was at the veterinary center that was part of
the far larger animal unit. The entire complex was bigger than Cogo
itself. It was situated north of the town in a dense equatorial rain
forest and separated from the town by a stretch of virgin jungle.
Kevin’s route took him east as far as the motor-pool facility, where he
turned north. The traffic, which was considerable for such a remote
spot, reflected the difficult logistics of running an operation the size
of the Zone. Everything from toilet paper to centrifuge tubes had to be
imported, which necessitated moving a lot of goods. Most supplies came
by truck from Bata, where there was a crude deep-water port and an
airport capable of handling large jet aircraft. The Estuario del Muni
with access to Libreville, Gabon, was only served by motorized canoes.
At the edge of town the granite cobblestone street gave way to newly
laid asphalt. Kevin let out a sigh of relief. The sound and the
vibration that came up the steering column from the cobblestones was
intense.
After fifteen minutes of driving through a canyon of dark green
vegetation, Kevin could see the first buildings of the state-of-the-art
animal complex. They were constructed of prestressed concrete and cinder