Jimenez’s laugh sounded like a cackle.
“Stem cell stocks soared following Bush’s announcement.”
A very troubling conjecture was coalescing in the back of my brain.
“Dr. Jimenez, how sophisticated is the methodology for growing cultures of human ES cells?”
“You’re not going to do it in your sophomore biochem class, if that’s what you’re asking. But it’s not that complicated for someone with training.”
“How does it work?”
“You get fresh or frozen embryos—”
“Where?”
“IVF labs.”
“Clinics for couples undergoing treatment for infertility,” I translated for my police buddies.
“You extract cells from the inner cell mass of the blastocyst. You put the cells in culture dishes with growth medium supplemented with fetal bovine serum—”
My heart rate shot to the stratosphere.
“—on feeder layers of mouse embryonic fibroblasts that have been gamma-irradiated to prevent their replication. You let the cells grow nine to fifteen days. When the inner cell masses have divided and formed clumps, you dissociate cells from the periphery, put them back in culture, and—”
I was no longer listening. I knew what Zuckerman was up to.
I caught Ryan’s eye and indicated that we should go.
Jimenez droned on about an alternative technique involving the injection of ES cells into the testes of immunocompromised mice.
“Thank you, Professor,” I cut in.
Ryan and Galiano looked at me like I was crazy.
“One last question. Did Nordstern ask about a woman named Maria Zuckerman?”
“Might have.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Same thing I’ll tell you, young lady. Never heard of her.”
“Zuckerman’s trying to develop a stem cell line.”
We were back in the Batmobile. My face felt hot, and strange creatures were running patterns in my belly.
“Why?” Ryan asked.
“How the hell should I know? Maybe
I closed my eyes. The lunch fish played on the back of my lids. I opened them.
“But I’m certain that’s what Zuckerman’s doing. I saw the lab, saw the fetal bovine serum.”
“There must be other uses for the stuff.” Galiano.
“Six of the existing stem cell lines are at the Monash Institute of Reproductive Biology in Melbourne, Australia.” I swallowed. “Zuckerman spent two years at a research institute in Melbourne. If you check, I bet Monash rings the bell.”
“But why?” Ryan repeated.
“Maybe Zuckerman anticipates a growing black market now that the U.S. government has turned ES cells into a limited resource by limiting government funding.” Galiano looked over at me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re flushed.”
“I’m fine.”
“And the good doctor plans to make a bundle,” Ryan said.
Galiano looked at me again, started to speak, instead picked up and keyed the radio.
“Like the hairballs that trade in illegal donor organs.” Ryan was sounding less skeptical. “Holy sh—”
I cut Ryan off.
“And Jorge Serano is helping her.” I listened to Galiano put out APBs on Zuckerman and Serano. My stomach made an odd sound. Though both men glanced at me, neither commented.
We rode several miles listening to my rumblings compete with the radio.
I spoke first.
“Where does Patricia Eduardo fit in?”
“Where does Antonio Diaz fit in?” Galiano asked.
