The Egyptian by Layton Green Read Free Book Online Page A

freelance investigative journalist for the W.H.O. now on assignment for the International Biomedical Organization, ex lead reporter for the Washington Post, and at Detroit and Cincinnati papers before that, is rarely off the job.”
    She raised her glass. “Touché.”
    “How did you get into biotech?”
    “I covered a cryogenic scandal at the Post, a company that was taking families’ life savings and freezing plastic dummies instead of relatives. That started the ball rolling. I don’t mind biotech, but it’s a means to an end.”
    “What end?”
    “I don’t know.” She laughed conspiratorially. “Something. Everything. Cocktails in yachts on the Mediterranean, rafting down the Amazon, tracking leads in Rio, cover of Time.”
    “At least you know what you want.”
    “Don’t you?”
    He eyed her wine, and signaled the bartender for another round. “Time for business.”
    She stared at him for a few seconds, then uncrossed her legs and straightened. “Fine. What in the world were you doing at BioGorden?”
    “You know I can’t discuss that. I’ll tell you what I’m sure you picked up already: I’m looking for a biotech involved in the theft of corporate secrets.”
    “What kind of corporate secrets? BioGorden has the hottest thing around right now, and we just got a full frontal of the Minotaur. If there was anything hotter I’d know about it.”
    “You’re pretty sure about that.”
    “There could be something new out there, but I’d be surprised. And very, very interested. Does it involve new or existing technology?”
    “I’ll save you some trouble: I don’t even know what it is.”
    “Then why would anyone hire you?” She pondered her own question, then said, “I suppose you don’t have to be an expert on the crime to catch the criminal. It helps, though.”
    “Which is why I’m talking to you. So educate me.”
    Veronica swirled her wine. “Biotech is a broad term, and encompasses many types of companies. The particular biotech world you’ve stepped into is the one that makes the news. It’s radical and controversial.”
    “Biomedical gerontology. The science of aging.”
    “Good. Yes. Thanks to biological limits, we’re allowed to experience only a fraction of the world. But what if that changed?” Her eyes gleamed. “M y God, how can you not want to grasp onto life like a spider clinging to the most fascinating web it’s ever spun, visit every mountain-studded island shore, taste every exotic cuisine, see every spired city, have a thousand loves, live a thousand lives?” Her eyes twinkled and she laughed. “Sorry, that was my spiel to get the BioGorden gig. But I believe in it. Those biological limits—they’re not set in stone. You wouldn’t believe some of what these scientists are doing. They’ve already extended the lives of mice by more than half. And I’m not talking doddering old mice stumbling around a cage. I’m talking sustainable prolongevity—living twice the years at the same health rate.”
    “From what I’ve read so far, the science hasn’t translated to humans yet.”
    “True. There’re a few things out there, severely restricted caloric intake, lowering the metabolic rate by prolonged controlled breathing, which can extend life for a few years. But who wants to live like a monk for a few more years in the nursing home? It’s on the way, though. There are drugs hitting the market that can do amazing things. We’re at the tip of the iceberg.”
    She took a deep breath and took another drink. “It’s something I’m passionate about. Let the finality of death roll around in your mind for a second. You or whoever you love will be gone forever. Your children, maybe. Your wife. Your parents. How is that acceptable?”
    Grey sipped his beer, expressionless. He let his eyes roam the bar, now filled to the brim with Manhattan’s finest, the picks of the litter. No, he wasn’t obsessed with extending life. “So when do I get the golden