'Wait, wait. Let me make sure I've got this. When a cell wants to send a message to make some particular protein, it sends out RNA.'
'Right. Let's use this,' he said, pulling out a sharper knife.
'This RNA is unique to that particular gene.'
'That's right. The RNA is just a mirror image of the DNA that makes up the gene.'
'Beavers are tough guys,' she said.
'They are.' They both took a few bites, saying nothing. Then Kier began again with his mouth full, obviously intent on his thought.
'So at a given moment in time if you collect the RNA that a cell is giving off, then you will have a fingerprint of both the involved DNA and, if you know enough about the process, the protein that is being created. Another way of saying it is that you will know which gene is activated.'
They both ate ravenously. Kier stopped talking to take a few more bites.
'The quantity and type of RNA that is given off by various cells may change as circumstances change. Such changes could include stress, disease, hormonal surge, tough beaver tail, passionate sex… The patterns of the proteins made by those cells change as the body sends signals to deal with the new situation.'
'So the trick is to discover which genes are sending out RNA in response to the condition under study,' she said.
Kier continued chewing. 'Exactly.'
'And this DNA chip measures it.'
'Sort of. To create a DNA chip, droplets of DNA from different genes are put on a chip. They can put thousands of droplets on each chip. When Tillman's researchers wanted to know what RNA was produced under a given bodily condition, they could extract RNA from the cells of whatever living tissue was affected and expose it to the chip. By seeing which DNA droplet matched the RNA, the researcher could tell which gene was activated as a result of the illness or condition under study.''
'I follow that. You know in advance which DNA is in each droplet. The chip detects which droplet the RNA matches, and then you know which gene it came from.'
'That's right. Then by studying a person who has recently been infected with a disease, for example, they can learn through the RNA from various organ samples which genes are involved in fighting the disease, and where relevant, which are involved in propagating the disease.'
'So this would help them understand disease processes.'
'Right,' he said. 'Causes, cures, the works. But to do this efficiently, you would need human subjects. And you would need a sample of every disease you wanted to study. So it becomes clearer why all the diseases. But if they were, for example, using Tiloks, we would at the very least have a bunch of sick Tiloks. And for what I'm talking about, you'd be regularly punching holes in their bodies to get tissue samples from organs so it wouldn't be a secret.'
'So they're not doing that on the Tilok tribe. You're thinking if the reference in this RA-4TVM study was to human infants, then they were cloning people and using the clones for medical research.'
'That's right. First they used this chip technology on the same cloned infants. Later they just took organ samples and ran the RNA through the computer. And that's how they got light-years ahead of the rest of the world's scientists.'
'So they sacrificed babies to make progress,' Jessie said.
'It seems too outlandish to be possible. But I believe it, even if I can't prove it.'
When they finished eating, they lay exhausted on the bed. Both fell instantly unconscious.
It happened in the middle of the night, after they had been sleeping for hours. Nothing that he could recall had awakened him, but he opened his eyes with a start. A creaking sound disturbed the still cabin. He couldn't tell its source. For no discernible reason he became very uneasy.
'We've got to leave right now.'
He was shaking her awake. He turned on a small light, grateful that he had covered the windows. Her mouth opened, probably to ask why.
'Get dressed. I'll throw the food in the pack and get some other things.'
'What is it?' she asked, already pulling on her jeans.
'No time to figure it out.' He had his pants on, then his outer shirt, leaving his T-shirt for her. They struggled into the camouflage outerwear. Kier began cramming more canteens, professional mountain-climbing gear, and snare material into the pack, all of which he had hauled from a trapdoor in the floor.
'Let's go.' Five minutes had passed since it first hit him. Too long. 'Out the back window.'
He helped her through the window and led her straight away from the cabin into the forest so that someone watching the front would detect nothing. Once again, however, they left a trail in the snow. After two hundred yards, they circled, coming back to the creek that they had followed down to the cabin. Remaining in the creek so that they would leave no tracks they headed back uphill toward the caverns.
'Where in the hell are we going?'
'Hide in the caves.'
'Why not follow the creek down? Your whole tribe could be-'
'If they figured out the creek, they'll be waiting below.'
'But how do we know-'
'We don't know anything,' he cut in. 'It just didn't feel right.'
As if in response, an explosion rocked the mountainside behind them, reverberating in the fog. M-16 automatic-weapon fire rang out.
'I'd say they just destroyed my friends' new cabin. With luck we have a minute or two before they start on our track.'
Kier trotted up the creek now, hoping that Jessie could keep up.
It made no sense, he told himself. They had gone a couple of miles underground. Tracking should have been impossible. Dogs couldn't follow their bodies coated in charcoal and pine scent, even assuming they brought bloodhounds this far into the mountains. Tillman probably was not fooled by the avalanche, lost no time, and had a man or two follow each creek down the mountain. If so, he had an uncanny ability to predict Kier's methods.
Kier heard her breathing and could see her sides heaving. Sprinting up this mountian with all the rubble and loose rock under the snow was physically punishing. Altitude with the resulting lack of oxygen made it worse.
For just a moment he would stop.
'How are you?'
'Maybe I should just end the pain-let you go alone and save the world. I'm holding you back.'
'Give me your gun. Everything,' he said.
Woodenly, she handed him the M-16, the pistol, and two grenades.
'I need you to give this everything you've got… like at the pond. I'm not leaving you and we're going to jog- even on the ledge.'
'No.' She shook her head.
'Yes.'
He turned up the creek. The pep talk wasn't working. Awakened from a sound sleep, her belly full of food, and now sprinting, no doubt to the point of nausea, she looked wiped out. Probably making her angry was the best medicine.
''I don't know how they let women in the FBI,'' he mumbled.
She grabbed his arm.
'What did you say?'
'I don't know how they let Tillman get past the FBI.'
'That's not what you said.'
Then he started running up the mountain.
She was almost certain she understood him. It was such a stupid thing to say. Trying to suggest that she wasn't tough or lacked determination just to get her to run up a hill. It was infuriating. After all their talks, how could he resort to this sort of thing? She wanted to tell him to get lost, but she wanted to really skewer him, and he
