Roger pushed down the sadness and closed the door.

He was exhausted but too wired to sleep. So, he went downstairs and stretched out on the couch.

After a few minutes he flicked on the television just to fill the place with noise. They could still get only a couple stations.

At first he thought it was a movie. People were running in the street, fires were burning, guns were popping in the background. But it was breaking news.

"…stopped firing. I can't see them from where we are," the announcer said, "but the embassy appears secure again." The scene shifted back to the anchor. "Once again, the siege of the American Embassy in Cairo is over. But not before four people were killed and several others injured.

"The incident began late last evening when Islamic fundamentalists held a rally decrying the alleged youth-serum Elixir as a U.S.-Israeli plot…"

Roger sat shocked before the screen. He hadn't even handed it over yet, and the world was insane on rumors.

"Earlier, leaders demanded that the American government make the alleged youth-miracle drug available to all people of the world or risk a Holy War.

"…In response to the spreading unrest, security has been beefed up at U.S. military bases overseas as well as American-owned corporations involved in genetics research.

"Meanwhile, Quentin Cross, president and CEO of Darby Pharmaceuticals in Lexington, Massachusetts, continues to deny his company's past involvement in Elixir. When asked earlier about the now-infamous videos of laboratory animals rejuvenating, he said that the tapes were fakes produced by disgruntled former employees." The scene shifted to Quentin Cross rushing to his black Mercedes in the Darby parking lot.

"How could they have faked the change in the animals, and the front page of The Boston Globe?"

"You can get old newspapers from the library," Quentin said, hustling to his car. "And monkeys all look alike."

"What about how young Roger Glover looks?"

"How am supposed to know? Maybe he knows some good plastic surgeons," he said and drove away.

"Meanwhile, in a White House press conference the president pledged an all-out effort to apprehend Roger Glover, who has so far eluded law enforcement officials in spite of an intensive search."

Roger got up to turn off the set, when something the announcer said stopped him.

"The call for a 'Holy War' is not just coming from the Middle East. The most ominous threat came from a hitherto unknown group calling itself the Witnesses to the Holy Apocalypse."

The scene shifted to a still of Lamar Fisk preaching to his followers.

"According to Professor Dennis Hadlock of the University of Connecticut, an expert on religious cults, such extremist groups view the Elixir serum as the beginning of the end." The camera switched to Hadlock. "Even if Elixir represents an actual scientific breakthrough, to the apocalyptic way of thinking it's blasphemy, a false gift from the devil. A grand lie, and the supreme sign to many that Judgment Day has arrived."

"What are the other signs?" asked the reporter.

"Well, for the Rapture-ready, they're all around us. There's the weather, for one. In the winter it was floods and mudslides reaching biblical proportions in California. Likewise the devastating drought in Africa and recent volcano eruption in central New Guinea. Closer to home, the strange arctic weather that's killing the spring. For those looking for them, these are sure signs of God's wrath. Not to mention the growing global chaos over this. The real danger is-"

Suddenly the scene cut back to the anchor. "We just received word from Cairo that an agreement has been reached and that the hostages will be released momentarily. We're switching live to the U.S. embassy…"

Roger watched as several men emerged with assault rifles on the rooftop of the embassy. On the street below Egyptian troops were shielded behind barricades. Smoke rose from piles of tires and burnt out cars.

"From this vantage, we can see Ambassador Boyle and seven staffers being escorted by their captors. They appear to be awaiting the U.S. helicopter…"

Another camera pulled in the large helicopter gunship approaching the embassy. While the blades whirled, the captors released the seven staff members who ran to the opening where U.S. soldiers helped them aboard.

When the last was aboard, the captors waved the chopper to leave, holding behind the ambassador, still in handcuffs.

The camera closed in on the lifting craft when suddenly the captors opened up with machine guns and grenade launchers. Instantly the rear end of the helicopter exploded, sending the vehicle into a tipsy angle toward the ground.

"Oh my God!" cried the announcer.

At the sound of the explosion, the group of gunmen cheered. Then as the camera closed in, the leader led the ambassador to the edge of the building, shot him in the head with a pistol, and pushed him off the roof.

Sickened, Roger snapped off the set.

"I have become death."

36

"I don't know how the videos got out. It's been thirteen years. People steal things," explained Quentin Cross. "No one's left from the old lab. They're all gone-some retired, some dead. I don't know how they got out."

"It was still careless," Antoine said. He was calling from his Lear jet. "You should have had those locked in your vault."

"Duplicates were made. What can I say?"

"The important thing is, can you still reproduce the compound if you had samples?"

"Of course we can. You know that."

It had taken years to pull themselves out of the debt Chris Bacon had left them in, but Darby had a first-rate laboratory with all the necessary technology to determine molecular composition of most compounds. And what they lacked, they could buy.

"All we need is a few cubic centimeters and we can make the stuff by the gallon," Quentin said.

"What about the technical staff?"

"We have the right people."

"People we can trust, not just clever technicians?"

"Trust can be bought. All you need is enough capital."

He could hear Antoine chuckle. "You're getting cynical in your old age."

"I have every reason to be," he said, tasting the sourness in his own voice. "Do you have any idea where they are?"

"I have ideas, yes."

Vince had boasted about an extensive computer network and ace hackers who could infiltrate the file systems of major corporations, departments of motor vehicles, local hospitals, the Social Security Administration, even a few banks. "If you've got a pulse, we'll find you," he had said.

"May I ask where?"

"You may, but I'm not going to tell you. Your job is geniuses and test tubes. Stay well, my friend. Bon soir."

Quentin hung and recalled why he disliked Antoine. He was a slick, arrogant thug. Other people were just rungs on his ladder. But that was not why Quentin needed him. His Consortium was an aging lot of multimillionaires who were hankering for the promised land.

And they needed him and not just to reproduce the stuff. He had people ready to get their hands on the body fluids and brain tissue of Roger Glover to see what made him tick.

It was a little after nine when Quentin got off his office phone. For the last six days, Darby Pharms had been crawling with media and protesters. Twice he had to call the police to break up fights between factions trying to break inside the plant.

He had even hired armed security guards to patrol the premises night and day. That and an enhanced monitoring system had cost him thousands.

But it would be worth it when they brought Glover in. And it wasn't just a cash cow come home. Every time Quentin looked at the photo of Robyn on his desk he saw in the glass the reflection of a tired middle-aged man, grown heavy in body and spirit, and weighted by the same dull routine of running a midsize pharmaceutical company. Perhaps it was a decade of struggling to get back on his feet, but he had lost his old belly fire. He missed those days when they were scrambling about for their great bonanza, pushing out walls and buying fancy staff and equipment. No, it wasn't the old man he missed. Ross was a prick who dismissed his ideas as pipe dreams, who never showed him respect as an equal. The only reason he had made him CFO was to keep the company in the family. The old bastard had deserved to die. No, what Quentin missed was a younger Quentin, so full of dreams and fight and years.