'Eons ago, mitochondria were actually symbiotic, separate organisms living inside the larger cell of the host. So they've got their own DNA, even though they are inside the cells of our body, and each of our cells has its own human genome.'
'So we've really got two sets of DNA. One that is ours and one that belongs to our mitochondria,' Sam said.
'Yeah. And get this, Ben tantalizingly suggests in a note that human DNA and mitochondria DNA might have something in common:
'We have all read that Arcs are closer to us genetically than are bacteria. What if the Arcs and the mitochondrial DNA and the human genome have something in common?
'You should know that human mitochondria use electrical transference and that they operate at about two hundred millivolts. We believe that mitochondria operating at one hundred fifty millivolts do not lose their oxygen- burning efficiency as rapidly.
Therefore, they age much more slowly. They also produce fewer free radicals when operating at lower voltage. Therefore, the human that has mitochondria operating at one hundred fifty millivolts may suffer less DNA deterioration and live longer.
'We believe that mice on low-calorie diets undergo a change in their mitochondria so that they run at lower voltage. We believe the same is true of mice that have their growth hormone genes suppressed at birth. We all know that these mice live longer than normal mice. Is this making sense? Think this through. I wish I were there to see the light go on behind your eyes.
Regrettably, if you're reading this, my presence is obviously impossible. There is so much more.'
'That's pretty fascinating,' Sam said.
'It is. The missing link for us now is the nature of the connection between human mitochondrial DNA and Arc DNA. Arcs don't use oxygen. It would be poison to them, in fact. So one wonders how they could have anything to do with us.'
'But they don't suffer the DNA deterioration that we do if they can reproduce themselves after thousands of years. And remember what we found in the other note that they had discovered an Arc gene they called Arc Two.'
'You are so right,' she said.
'I thought I saw something where they are looking for a gene and he thought the answer might be in the Sargasso stew,' Sam said.
'What?' She shuffled through the papers. 'Yes. Here it is. Apparently they are looking for a gene or, more correctly, a particular Arc with a certain gene. That's strange. They found one gene Arc Two, but are they looking for its source. How could that be? I don't get the Sargasso stew. I'll have to think about that. Something rings a bell, but I can't remember.'
Rossitter had their Judas on the speakerphone. Sanker was listening for more than could be heard, hunched over his bar where the speakerphone was mounted. He normally used it to settle bets and the like, or check the stables before post time at the racetrack, especially on weekends. Sanker owned racehorses and had done rather well at them, like everything else that he undertook. This weekend's particular permutation of corporate life at Sanker was fast becoming a notable exception to his usual success.
'How do you know that Sarah James is in danger from Frick?' Rossitter asked.
There was a pause, as if the Judas were thinking over the answer.
Sanker's mind worked feverishly trying to imagine what was at risk, whether they might even be taped by the authorities in some sort of sting operation. Not likely, but then again his sons would swear he was over at the stables at this very moment. Hanging it on Rossitter was a last resort, but necessary, in case of disaster.
'Giving you my sources of information,' their Judas continued, 'won't help me or you.
So let's stick with the current events. I believe he has her. If Frick were to torture her, that means he'll have to kill her. Eventually. You see? I'm telling you that this result could be very bad for you. You need to act.'
'It should be obvious to you that anyone associated with Sanker Corporation is not going to be kidnapping people,' Sanker replied, 'and if they were to commit such incomprehensible evil, they certainly are not going to tell us or anyone else about it.
Men of this ilk don't go explaining their activities. On the other hand, your allegations are extraordinary, and if you have information, you should do the right thing with it. Tell the state or federal authorities.'
'Get off this crap. You're not speaking into a microphone. It's a little late to get paranoid. You're in this too deep. You know there is no way to call the state and stop something that's happening at this very moment at an unknown location.'
'We don't know what you're talking about,' Rossitter insisted. 'You're not telling us anything we can use.'
'Well, you better figure it out if you want Ben Anderson's secrets after he's gone. You better get off your ass and stop Frick.'
The Judas hung up.
'He's desperate,' Sanker said. 'This isn't good. He's more concerned about Sarah James than he is about getting us the secrets. I can hear it in his voice. Then again, maybe she is the key to the secret.'
'Should we call Frick?'
'Certainly not,' Sanker said. 'The minute we get involved in the details, we're culpable.
We'll just have to trust Frick to extract what we need.' The old man thought for a minute. 'You know, it may be much better for us if Frick denies any knowledge of her whereabouts. If he has her, he'll never admit it. Never. Without revealing it to Frick, put a private investigator of impeccable reputation on the phone with you and Frick- he'll be a witness to Frick's denial.'
Haley worried that Sanker's men would be at Ben's beach house and she worried that Sam was in no shape to fight anybody or even run away. She optimistically argued to herself that maybe there wasn't a lot wrong other than his bad knee and hip and a multitude of cuts, scratches, and near-hypothermia. At times it seemed he could barely walk, and then when he had to move, he somehow managed to hobble along in a sort of spastic lope.
'We've got to get out of here,' he said.
'I know, I know, but this is so pertinent.'
She was flipping through pages with one ear out for Frick's men, concerned that at any moment they would come knocking at the door, but literally unable to stop reading. She had found some fairly analytic text and proceeded to a page that seemed out of place: The gene holding the secret to the marvelous paradox between duplication and re-creation and how to control the benefits of each.
'Here it is. He is talking about the fact that DNA needs to excel at both duplication and re-creation. The incredible beauty of DNA is that it is changeable in sexual reproduction and we make babies. What is more awesome than a baby? A mixing of two people-
Nature at Her most creative.'
'God at His most creative.'
She smiled. The 'he vs. she' joke was not lost on her.
'Anyway, this is profound, what he's saying. DNA's strength in sexual reproduction is also its greatest weakness. It comes apart and changes. But when our body replaces old, worn-out cells, they're supposed to be exact duplicates. In duplication, DNA's changeability is a problem. The copies get blurred, like copies off a bad copy machine. I wonder if Ben's solved that problem somehow. He's hinting at it.'
'We really need to go,' Sam said. 'I'm impressed, but we gotta go.'
She took one last look through the papers while Sam gathered his semidry clothes and erased all possible traces of their presence from the Williamses' house.
'Here's another reference to Sargasso stew. I think he's talking about the Sargasso Sea, and I think I know what he means.'
Sam had everything together and cleaned up. He was checking the windows for the arrival of any unwanted guests. Or hosts.
'Tell me, but let's get out of here soon.' 'We looked at an article at the open-air mausoleum near the old Del Haro Hotel.'
'The McMillan family ashes are in the marble seats in this shrine in the forest and old graves mark the path. Hard to forget,' Sam said.
