Mutation

“I appreciate your willingness to have lunch,” Marsha said. “I need to talk with you about VJ.”

Valerie just smiled encouragement.

“You were such a help back when his intelligence dropped.

I’ve been concerned about him lately, but what can I say? I’m his mother. I can’t pretend to have any objectivity whatsoever, where he’s concerned.”

“What’s the problem?” asked Valerie.

“I’m not even sure there is a problem. It certainly isn’t one specific thing. Take a look at these psychological test results.”

Marsha handed Valerie VJ’s folder. Valerie scanned the various test reports with a careful eye. “Nothing appears out of the ordinary,” she said. “Curious about that validity scale on the MMPI, but otherwise, there’s nothing here to be concerned about.”

Marsha had the feeling that Valerie was right. She went on to explain. VJ’s truancy, the forged notes, and the fights he’d been in in school.

“VJ sounds resourceful,” said Valerie with a smile. “How old is he again?”

“Ten,” Marsha said. “I’m also concerned that he only seems to have one friend his own age, a boy named Richie Blakemore, and I’ve never even met him.”

“VJ never brings this boy to your home?” Valerie asked.

“Never.”

“Maybe it might be worth chatting with Mrs. Blakemore,”

Valerie said. “Get an idea from her how close the boys are.”

“I suppose.”

“I’d be happy to see VJ if you think he would be willing,”

Valerie offered.

“I’d certainly appreciate it,” Marsha said. “I really think I’m too close to the situation to evaluate him. At the same time, I’m terrified at the thought he’s developing a serious personality disorder right under my nose.”

Marsha left Valerie in the elevator, thanking her profusely for taking the time to hear her out, and for offering to see VJ. She promised to call Valerie’s secretary to set up an appointment.

“Your husband called,” Jean said as Marsha came back in the door. “He wants you to be sure to call back.”

“A problem?” Marsha asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jean said. “He didn’t say one way or the other, but he didn’t sound upset.”

Marsha picked up her mail and went into the inner office, closing the door behind her. Flipping through her mail, she phoned Victor. Colleen patched the call through to the lab, and Victor came on the line.

“What’s up?” asked Marsha. Victor didn’t often call during the day.

“The usual,” Victor said.

“You sound tired,” Marsha said. She wanted to say he sounded strange. His voice was toneless, as if he’d just had an emotional outburst and was forcing himself to remain calm.

“There are always surprises these days,” Victor said without explanation. “The reason I called was to say that VJ

and Philip are at home.”

“Something wrong?” asked Marsha.

“No,” Victor said. “Nothing is wrong. But I’m going to be working late so you and the others go ahead and eat. Oh, by the way, there will be security watching the house from 6

P.M. until 6 A.M.”

“Does the reason you’re staying late have anything to do with the harassment?” Marsha asked.

“Maybe,” Victor said. “I’ll explain when I get home.”

Marsha hung up the phone but her hand remained on the receiver. Once again she had that uncomfortable feeling that Victor was keeping something from her, something that she should know. Why couldn’t he confide in her? More and more, she was feeling alone.

A particular stillness hung over the lab when Victor was there by himself. Various electronic instruments kicked on at times, but otherwise it was quiet. By eight-thirty Victor was the only person in the lab. Closed behind several doors, he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the animals as they paced in their cages or used their exercise wheels.

Victor was bent over strips of film that bore darkened horizontal stripes. Each stripe represented a portion of DNA that had been cleaved at a specific point. Victor was comparing his son David’s DNA fingerprint—one taken when David was still healthy—and one of his cancerous liver tumor.

What amazed him was that the two did not entirely match.

Victor’s first hunch was that Dr. Shryack had given him the wrong sample—a piece of tumor from some other patient. But that did not explain the vast homology of the two strips; for whatever differences there were between the two fingerprints, much was the same.

After running the two in a computer that could numerically establish areas of homology versus the areas of heterogeneity, Victor realized that the two samples of DNA differed in only one area.

To make matters more confusing, the sample that Victor had given Robert contained some small areas of normal liver tissue in addition to the tumor. In his habitually compulsive fashion, Robert had carefully fingerprinted both areas of the sample. When Victor compared the normal liver DNA fingerprint with David’s previous fingerprint, the match was perfect.