"I suspected you might feel that way. Which is why we're having this talk. As I've explained the Methuselah Society will be contingent on the utmost secrecy, at least initially. So the question is, are you on board with this?"
"The answer is, I'll do what I please." She was thinking what a bombshell this would be to have in Stone's book. Stem cells—the Fountain of Youth was no longer a dream.
Winston Bartlett had won his dice game with God. And now he was planning to sweep the table. But he also was smart enough to realize he had to cash in quickly and discreetly.
"Don't you realize how irresponsible that is?" he insisted.
"We stand on the threshold of a new era for humankind. But if we let small‑minded politicians get involved with this, they might decide to forbid . . . Keep in mind that using stem cell technology to regenerate organs is already controversial. Just imagine what the self‑appointed zealots would do with this. The good of humanity is less important to them than their narrow‑minded, bigoted constituencies."
That was when it finally dawned on her why he had lured her down here by the river on a rainy night. What better place for a convenient "accident" if it came to that.
She watched as he turned and raised a finger toward the open door of the McDonnell Douglas.
The motor started and then another figure emerged and came down the steps. She squinted through the rain and recognized Kenji Noda, Bartlett's ever‑present bodyguard. He was carrying a plastic bottle, along with a small white towel.
He's going to chloroform me and then God knows what. I'm about to disappear the same way Kristen did.
She stared at them both, wondering what to do.