The Venetian Betrayal

SIXTY-TWO

VINCENTI LIKED THAT HE WAS IN CONTROL. “YOU’RE A SMART woman. And you clearly want to live. But how much do you know about life?”

He did not wait for Karyn Walde to answer.

“Science had always taught us that there are basically two kinds-bacteria and everything else. The difference? Bacteria have free-floating DNA, everything else has their DNA packed into a nucleus. Then in the nineteen-seventies, a microbiologist named Carl Woese found a third type of life. He called them archaea. A cross between bacteria and everything else. When first discovered, they seemed to live only in the harshest of environments-the Dead Sea, in the middle of hot springs, miles below the ocean, Antarctica, oxygen-starved swamps-and we thought that was the extent of their existence. But over the last twenty years archaea have been found everywhere.”

“These bacteria you found destroy the virus?” she asked.

“With a vengeance. And I’m talking about HIV-1, HIV-2, SIV, and every hybrid strain I could find to test, including the newest from Southeast Asia. The bacteria have a protein lining that obliterate the proteins holding HIV together. They ravage the virus, just like the virus ravages host cells. And fast. The only trick is to keep the body’s immune system from destroying the archaea before the bacteria can consume the virus.” He pointed toward her. “In people like you, whose immune system is virtually gone, that isn’t a problem, there just aren’t enough white cells left to kill the invading bacteria. But where HIV has only recently taken a stand, where the immune system is still relatively strong, the white cells kill the bacteria before it gets to the virus.”

“You found a way to prevent that?”

He nodded. “The bacteria actually survive digestion. That’s how the old healer managed to get them into people, only he thought it was the plant. I not only chewed the plant, I drank the water, so if any of that virus was in me that day, they took care of it. I’ve since found it’s better to administer a dose through injection. You can control the percentage. In early HIV infections, when the immune system is still strong, more bacteria are needed. In later stages, like you, when the white cell count is near zero, not as many are needed.”

“That’s why you wanted a varied infection rate in that clinical trial? You needed to know how strong a dose.”

“Smart girl.”

“So whoever wrote that report you read to me, and thought it strange you weren’t concerned with toxicity, was wrong.”

“I was obsessed with toxicity. I needed to know how much of the archaea would be needed to kill off various stages of an HIV infection. The great thing is that the bacteria, by themselves, are harmless. You could ingest billions and nothing would happen.”

“So you used those Iraqis like research animals.”

He shrugged. “Had to in order to know if the archaea worked. They didn’t know. I eventually adapted a shell to preserve the bacteria’s effectiveness, which gives them more time to devour the virus. The amazing thing is that the shell eventually sheds and the immune system absorbs the archaea, like any other circulatory invader. Cleans it right out. The virus is gone, and so are the archaea. You just don’t want too many of the bacteria-overworks the immune system. But, overall, it’s a simple, totally effective cure to one of the deadliest viruses in the world. And not one side effect that I’ve discovered.”

He knew she’d experienced, firsthand, the havoc of the symptomatic HIV drugs. Rashes, ulcers, fever, fatigue, nausea, low blood pressure, headaches, vomiting, nerve damage, insomnia-all were common.

He again held up the syringe. “This will cure you.”

“Give it to me.” Desperation laced her plea.

“You know Zovastina could have done this.” He saw the lie had the desired effect. “She knows.”

“I knew she did. Her and those germs. She’s been obsessed with them for years.”

“She and I worked together. Yet she never offered a thing to you.”

She shook her head. “Never. She’d just come and watch me die.”

“She had total control. There was nothing you could do. I understand your breakup, years ago, was difficult. She felt cheated. When you returned, asking for help, you realize you gave her an opportunity to exact a measure of revenge. She would have let you die. Would you like to return the favor?”

He watched as the moment of truth weighed on her mind but, just as he’d suspected, her conscience had long since dissolved.

“I just want to breathe. If that’s the price, I’ll pay it.”

“You’re going to be the first person cured of AIDS-”

“Who gets to tell the tale.”

He nodded. “That’s right. We’re going to make history.”

She didn’t seem impressed. “If your cure is so simple, why couldn’t somebody just steal or copy it?”

“Only I know where this particular archaea can be found naturally. Believe me, there are many kinds, but only this one works.”

Her oily eyes narrowed. “We know why I want to do this. What about you?”

“Lots of questions from a dying woman.”

“You seem like a man who wants to provide answers.”

“Zovastina is an impediment to my plans.”

“Cure me, and I’ll help you eliminate that problem.”

He doubted her unconditional assurance, but keeping this woman alive made sense. Her anger could be cha

Neither the League nor he were interested in world conquest. Wars were expensive in a great many ways, the most critical of which was the depletion of wealth and national resources. The League wanted its new utopia just as it is, not as Zovastina envisioned it should be. For himself, he wanted billions in profits and to savor his status as the man who conquered HIV. Louis Pasteur, Linus Pauling, Jonas Salk, and, now, Enrico Vincenti.

So he emptied the contents of the hypodermic into the IV port.

“How long does it take?” she asked, her voice expectant, her tired face alive.

“In a few hours you’ll feel much better.”

MALONE SAT BEFORE THE COMPUTER AND FOUND GOOGLE. THERE, he located websites that dealt with Old Greek and eventually opened one that offered translations. He typed in the six letters- -and was surprised at both the pronunciation and the meaning.

“Klimax in Greek. Ladder in English,” he said.

He found another site that also offered a conversion. He typed in the same letters from the alphabet supplied and received the same response.

Stephanie still held the candle wrapped with gold leaf.

“Ptolemy,” Thorvaldsen said, “went to a lot of trouble to leave this. That word must have great relevance.”

“And what happens when we figure it out?” Malone asked. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” a new voice said, “is that Zovastina is pla

They all turned and saw Michener standing in the doorway.

“I just left Viktor out in the lagoon. He was shocked that I knew about him.”

“I imagine he was,” Thorvaldsen said.

“Is Zovastina gone?” Malone asked.

Michener nodded. “I checked. Left the ground a little while ago.”

Malone wanted to know, “How does Cassiopeia know about Viktor?” Then it hit him. He faced Thorvaldsen. “The call. Out at the dock when we first got here. You told her then.”