Michael Palmer - Natural Causes

"I believe that somehow the women I have been investigating became infected with the virus that your brother created," she concluded. "It is quite possible that some component of this diet powder they all were taking was contaminated. I don't know. I hope Warren does. Once the virus got into the women, their natural defenses battled back, but never completely eliminated it. It remained in balance with their bodies, until the stress of labor upset that balance."

"How many women have died from this?"

"Two that we know of. And their babies. A third woman-the one we cultured the virus from-lost her baby and almost died. I fear she is not going to be the last case, Martha. That's why I need to find your brother."

Martha Fezler stared out at the water and the lengthening afternoon shadows. Finally she handed a pencil and notepad to Rosa.

"Write down your name, where you come from, the name of the virus, and the name of that disease," she said. She waited until Rosa had complied, then tore off the sheet and slipped it into her overall pocket. "Wait here," she said.

She lumbered up the staircase and disappeared through the door to the loft. Rosa doodled absently on the pad as she watched a pair of gulls do strident battle over a mussel. Only when she glanced down did she realize that she was shading in the carefully blocked letters BART.

Five minutes passed. Once Rosa swore she heard Martha Fezler shouting. The gulls resolved their dispute and glided off across the harbor. Finally the loft door opened and Warren Fezler emerged, followed by his sister. He was even slighter than Rosa remembered from the time he dashed past her on the MCB campus. Compared to him, Martha looked positively hulking. He approached Rosa and smiled sheepishly.

"S-sorry I've given you s-such a hard time," he said. "I've been v-very frightened."

He took the seat opposite Rosa. Martha brought over another folding chair and settled onto it, facing the tracks.

"Warren says it's okay if I stay for this," she said.

"That's fine," Rosa replied. "Believe me, Warren, coming forward is the right thing to do."

"Even if I g-get k-killed?"

"We'll have to see to it that doesn't happen. When my department head finds out what's going on, you'll get all the protection you need. If I'm right, Warren, others have already died from this virus. There's a good chance that by coming forward, you may save a lot of lives."

"I honestly d-didn't know it was hurting anyone. He said that D-Dr. B-Baldwin caused their problem. N-not the virus."

"Who's he, Warren?"

Warren Fezler rubbed at his eyes, which looked flat and tired. He turned to Martha, who gave an encouraging nod.

"Blankenship," he said, suddenly. "Eli B-Blankenship."

Rosa stared at him incredulously. Blankenship! The one person aside from Sarah and Matt Daniels whom she had trusted with all her information. She felt a sick, empty churning beginning in her gut.

"Explain," she said.

"I s-stutter a lot. I'm s-sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Warren. Don't even think about it. Just tell me about CRV113 and Eli Blankenship."

"If I sp-speak slowly, it's not as bad."

"You're doing fine."

Fezler took a calming breath. In fact, when he did begin to speak again, he seemed more composed and fluent.

"The CRV s-stands for coagulation-related virus. I stumbled on its weight loss p-property by accident. I th-think it's due to some sort of gene that's closely linked on the chromosome to one of the ones I w-was working on. The linked gene interferes with the digestion and cellular storage of fat by blocking a specific enzyme. In isolating my clotting genes from their chromosomes, I apparently cut away the genes that provide the checks and balances on the fat-inhibiting one. My m-monkeys began losing weight. A lot of them died. After I realized what was happening with them, I p-played around with the inoculum size and some other stuff. They stopped dying, and just lost weight-right down to dry weight. F-finally I ingested the virus myself. It w-worked perfectly. I l-lost a hundred pounds in just a f-few months with no p-problem and absolutely no side effects."

"But Cletus Collins said all your monkeys died."

"I–I'm ashamed to say it, but I k-killed them m-myself to protect the secret. It was B-Blankenship's idea. We were classmates in graduate school. He has an M.D. I have b-both an M.D. and Ph.D. I s-swear I n-never thought anyone would get hurt. You've g-got to believe that."

"She does, Warren," Martha said sadly. "Just go on."

"I t-told Eli about the virus and what I h-had found. He said we could get very rich from it. There were two p-problems, though."

Already, for Rosa, the final pieces had dropped into place.

"The patent," she said.

"Exactly. B-BIO-Vir owns the virus."

"And I guess the second would be the FDA."

"You're very s-smart," Fezler said.

Rosa thought about how much she had shared with Eli Blankenship-especially over the past two days.

"Not so smart," she said. "So, Blankenship concocted the Herbal Weight Loss powder to avoid any lengthy research protocol with the FDA."

"Which they w-would n-never have approved of anyhow. Eli set up the whole thing. He's incredibly b-brilliant. But he's a demon. He's a liar, and he's v-very, very secretive. No one involved ever knew w-what anyone else was doing. N-not Singh, not Ettinger, not Paris, n-not even me."

"None of them knew about the virus?"

"Just me… and Eli."

"But it's in the diet powder."

"N-no. Not in the powder. In the vitamins. One of the vitamin capsules-n-number nine-is different f-from the rest. I made them myself in a lab Eli s-set up for me. At first I believed him about D-Dr. Baldwin being responsible for those women. Then I b-began to have doubts. I got f-frightened about what we w-were doing. Especially with s-so many people buying the p-powder."

"So Blankenship tried to kill you?"

"Not Blankenship. A m-man he hired. Tall and b-blond with-"

"No!"

Rosa was about to say the word herself when Martha Fezler screamed it. Her eyes were wide with terror. At that instant a soft pop came from Rosa's right. Martha cried out and flew over backward as if she had been hit by a wrecking ball. Warren and Rosa dropped to where she lay. She was grunting for breath. Her eyes were glazed.

"Oh, God!" Warren said, touching the dime-size hole in her overall bib, which was already soaking through with blood. "She's been shot."

"Excellent deduction, Warren."

They spun to the voice, which Rosa had recognized even before she saw the man. Darryl was leaning comfortably against a support beam, grinning at her the way he first had on the highway. The silenced revolver, held comfortably in his hand, was pointed at a spot somewhere between her and Warren.

"H-he's the m-man," Fezler said from his knees. "B-Blankenship's man. Why d-did you sh-shoot my s-sister, you f-fucker? Why?"

"It's just business, Warren," he said, taking a step toward them. "I'm sure Rosa there understands that. She doesn't hold it against me that I shot out that tire of hers. She knows it was just business. Just a way to find out exactly where she was headed. I don't hold it against you that my knee got blown apart the last time we were together and that I'm going to be a fucking gimp cripple for the rest of my life. Occupational hazard is the way I look at it. Business. Now, though, it's your turn."

"You s-son of a bitch!" Fezler whined.

"Get up! Now!"

Numbly the scientist did as he was asked. He looked like a man resigned to death.

Darryl's gun came up. Rosa could see Fezler had no intention of moving. She dove at him from the side and pushed him as hard as she could. He stumbled, tripped, and then toppled off the rear platform between the rails and the building. The gunman's reflex shot splintered the floor where Fezler had been standing.