Since the inception of nanotechnology the potential medical applications had always been the sexiest side of the science. More intriguing than a quantum leap in computing power was the potential for curing cancer, AIDS, any and all diseases. The possibility of patrolling devices in the body that could encounter, identify and eliminate pathogens through chemical reaction was the Holy Grail of the science.
The bottleneck, however -the thing that kept this side of the science theoretical while rafts of researchers pursued molecular RAM and integrated circuits -was the question of a power supply. How to move these molecular submarines through the blood with a power source that was natural and compatible with the body's immune system.
Pierce, along with Larraby, his immunology researcher, had discovered a rudimentary yet highly reliable formula. Using the host's own cells -in this case, Pierce's were harvested and then replicated for research in an incubator -the two researchers developed a combination of proteins that would bind with the cell and draw an electrical stimulus from it. That meant power to drive the nanodevice could come from within and therefore be compatible with the body's immune system.
The Proteus formula was simple and that was its beauty and value. Pierce imagined all forward nanoresearch in the field being based upon this one discovery. Experimentation and other discoveries and inventions leading to practical use formerly seen as two decades or longer out on the horizon might now be half again as close to reality.
The discovery, made just three months earlier while Pierce was in the midst of his difficulties with Nicole, was the single most exciting moment of his life.
'Our buildings, to you, would seem terribly small,' Pierce whispered as he finished his review of the patents. 'But to us, who aren't big, they are wonderfully tall.'
The words of Dr. Seuss.
Pierce was pleased with the package. As usual, Kaz had done an excellent job of blending science-speak and layman's language in the top sheets of each patent. The meat of each application, however, contained the science and the diagrammed segments of the formula. These pages were written by Pierce and Larraby and had been reviewed by both researchers repeatedly.
The application package was good to go, in Pierce's opinion. He was excited. He knew floating such a patent application package into the nanoworld would bring a flood of publicity and a subsequent rise in investor interest. The plan was to show the discovery to Maurice Goddard first and lock down his investment, then submit the applications. If all went well, Goddard would realize he had a short lead and a short window of opportunity and would make a preemptive strike, signing up as the company's main funding source.
Pierce and Charlie Condon had carefully choreographed it. Goddard would be shown the discovery. He would be allowed to check it out for himself in the tunneling electron microscope. He would then have twenty-four hours to make his decision. Pierce wanted a minimum of $18 million over three years. Enough to charge forward faster and further than any competitor. And he was offering 10 percent of the company in exchange.
Pierce wrote a congratulatory note to Jacob Kaz on a yellow Post-it and attached it to the cover sheet of the Proteus application package. He then locked it back in the safe. He'd have it sent by secure transport to Kaz's office in Century City in the morning. No faxes, no e-mails. Pierce might even drive it over himself.
He leaned back, threw another Oreo into his mouth and checked his watch. It was two o'clock. An hour had gone by since he had been in the office but it had seemed like only ten minutes. It felt good to have the feeling again, the vibe. He decided to capitalize on it and move into the lab to do some real work. He grabbed the rest of the cookies and got up.
'Lights.'
Pierce was in the hallway pulling the door closed on the darkened office when the phone rang. It was the distinctive double ring of his private line. Pierce pushed the door back open.
'Lights.'
Few people had his direct office number but one of them was Nicole. Pierce quickly moved around the desk and looked down at the caller ID screen on the phone. It said private caller and he knew it wasn't Nicole, because her cell phone and the line from the house on Amalfi were uncloaked. Pierce hesitated but then remembered that Cody Zeller had the number. He picked up the phone.
'Mr. Pierce?'
It wasn't Cody Zeller.
'Yes?'
'It's Philip Glass. You called me yesterday?'
The private investigator. Pierce had forgotten.
'Oh. Yes, yes. Thanks for calling back.'
'I didn't get the message until today. What can I do for you?'
'I want to talk to you about Lilly Quinlan. She's missing. Her mother hired you a few weeks ago. From Florida.'
'Yes, but I am no longer employed on that one.'
Pierce remained standing behind his desk. He put his hand on top of the computer monitor as he spoke.
'I understand that. But I was wondering if I could talk to you about it. I have Vivian Quinlan's permission. You can check with her if you want. You still have her number?'
It took a long while for Glass to respond, so long that Pierce thought he may have quietly hung up.
'Mr. Glass?'
'Yes, I'm here. I'm just thinking. Can you tell me what your interest is in all of this?'
'Well, I want to find her.'
This was met with more silence and Pierce started to understand that he was dealing from a position of weakness. Something was going on with Glass, and Pierce was at a disadvantage for not knowing it. He decided to press his case. He wanted the meeting.
'I'm a friend of the family,' he lied. 'Vivian asked me to see what I could find out.'
'Have you talked to the LAPD?'
Pierce hesitated. Instinctively he knew that Glass's cooperation might be riding on his answer. He thought about the events of the night before and wondered if they could already be known by Glass. Renner had said he knew Glass and he most likely planned to call him. It was Sunday afternoon. Maybe the police detective was waiting until Monday, since Glass seemed to be on the periphery of the case.
'No,' he lied again. 'My understanding from Vivian was that the LAPD wasn't interested in this.'
'Who are you, Mr. Pierce?'
'What? I don't under -'
'Who do you work for?'
'No one. Myself, actually.'
'You're a PI?'
'What's that?'
'Come on.'
'I mean it. I don't under -oh, private investigator. No, I'm not a PI. Like I said, I'm a friend.'
'What do you do for a living?'
'I'm a researcher. I'm a chemist. I don't see what this has to do with -'
'I can see you today. But not at my office. I'm not going in today.'
'Okay, then where? When?'
'One hour from now. Do you know a place in Santa Monica called Cathode Ray's?'
'On Eighteenth, right? I'll be there. How will we know each other?'
'Do you have a hat or something distinctive to wear?'
Pierce leaned down and opened an unlocked desk drawer. He pulled out a baseball cap with blue stitched letters over the brim.
'I'll be wearing a gray baseball cap. It says MOLES in blue stitching above the brim.'
'Moles? As in the small burrowing animal?'
Pierce almost laughed.
'As in molecules. The Fighting Moles was the name of our softball team. Back when we had one. My company sponsored it. It was a long time ago.'
