Search: A Novel of Forbidden History - Hardcover

Reeves-Stevens, Judith; Reeves-Stevens, Garfield

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0312377444 ISBN 13: 9780312377441

Verlag: Thomas Dunne Books, 2010

Inhaltsangabe

In the aftermath of a young geneticist's shocking DNA discovery, power-hungry Homer Stennis Ironwood endeavors to penetrate the MacClary family, who guard ancient secrets about humanity's past associations with gods.

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

JUDITH and GARFIELD REEVES-STEVENS are New York Times best-selling authors of speculative fiction ranging from near-future thrillers and suspense to contemporary urban fantasy.

Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens are New York Times bestselling authors of speculative fiction, ranging from near-future thrillers and suspense to contemporary urban fantasy.

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ONE
“Is that human?”
David Weir was dying, and the reason was on his computer, even though he didn’t understand it. His finger moved reflexively to strike the key that would blank the screen, but he stopped himself. Too late.
“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know anyone was still here.” He turned, covering his surprise. It was almost ten on a Friday night. Last time he’d looked, all the workstations in the lab’s open office space were empty, computer screens dark. He’d been so lost in his search, he hadn’t heard approaching footsteps—unusual for him. His mother used to say he had better ears than a dog. As a child, he’d been able to detect his father’s pickup make the turn onto their street five blocks away.
“Budget hell.” Colonel Miriam Kowinski hefted the thick green binder she carried. From his one year’s experience as a civilian technician in the Armed Forces DNA Identification Laboratory, David knew those two words were as much of an explanation as his boss would be giving him.
The colonel leaned forward to peer more closely at his screen, then frowned. “Mitochondrial DNA. But some of the markers are wrong.”
“It’s a reference sample.” The lie came easily.
“Chimp?”
To the untrained eye, the electrophoresis patterns on his screen would resemble smeared, ghostly photographs of banded worms lined up side by side, some sections dark, some light, with a scattering of small numbers and letters running to either side, spelling out gibberish. Kowinski, though, wasn’t just another army bureaucrat. She was a trained forensic biologist. It would be foolish to underestimate her.
“Closer to human. Neandertal.” David held his breath, gambling that the colonel’s expertise didn’t stretch to extinct hominins.
“Really.”
“Yeah. A twenty-nine-thousand-year-old Neandertal baby. From the Mezmaiskaya fossil.”
“Is this a personal project?”
David knew why she asked. The lab’s primary mission was to identify the remains of American military personnel through DNA analysis, not just for present conflicts, but for wars past. Beyond that, if resources and personnel were available, the lab could use its expertise to aid outside researchers in cases of scientific or historic interest. It could also help other government and law-enforcement agencies carry out drug tests, develop forensic evidence, even determine parentage in child custody cases.
However, “personal projects” were just that—personal and unauthorized. Illegal.
“No, ma’am. It’s part of that new quality assurance protocol I’m developing.”
Colonel Kowinski regarded him impassively. She’d folded her arms over her budget binder, holding it close. Despite the late hour, her olive drab jacket was still buttoned and crisp. Her sleek salt-and-pepper chignon might as well have been molded from plastic, not a hair escaping.
“Go on.”
David couldn’t tell if his supervisor wanted to hear more because she was interested or because she sensed, correctly, that he was lying. Either way, he felt ready. The old saying was true: Imminent death did have a way of concentrating the mind.
“The lab’s been collecting DNA from every recruit since 1992. That’s just over three million samples.”
Kowinski tapped her budget binder with a short, polish-free nail. “I’m aware of the statistics.”
“Well, statistically, there’s always an error rate in sequencing DNA samples to create a gene tic profile.”
The colonel said nothing, and David continued. “Out of three million samples, we can estimate a few thousand of our profiles will be incorrect. Since it’s expensive to repeat the sequencing of all three million to look for just a few flawed results, I’m hoping a mathematical analysis of the profiles in our database will find the errors instead.”
“The Neandertal connection, Mr. Weir. It’s late.”
David pushed on. “We know the mitochondrial DNA in every cell of every human in almost all cases passes directly from mother to child, without sexual recombination with the father’s DNA. So, technically, every person on Earth today can trace their genealogical descent back to a single female who lived in Africa about a hundred and fifty thousand years ago and—”
“Mitochondrial Eve.” Kowinski interrupted to remind him he wasn’t shining a visiting politician.
David instantly jumped ahead to details he hoped would distract her even more from what was actually on his screen. “Okay, so when we compare nine hundred and ninety-four key mtDNA sequences from people around the world, the average number of those sequences that differ between any two people is eight, and the maximum is twenty-four. That’s how closely related every person is—less than a three percent difference.
“MtDNA from Neandertals, though—that differs from modern humans by twenty-two to thirty-six sequences, with an average of twenty-seven.”
He touched the screen’s incriminating image with one finger to draw her attention where he absolutely needed it. At the same time, he tapped the function key that expanded that image, to force the codes beneath it off the screen and out of sight.
He shot a glance at Kowinski, wondering if she’d caught his manipulation of the image.
“That difference indicates the last common ancestor we and the Neandertals shared dates back to maybe four hundred and fifty to five hundred thousand years ago.”
“This helps quality assurance how?”
“It gives us a baseline for identifying improperly processed samples in our database. So I set up a simple comparison program—strictly using the lab’s idle computer time—comparing our samples with this one.”
Kowinski’s expression was unreadable. “Couldn’t you use a set of standardized human sequences just as easily?”
“Oh, I’m using that technique, too. My program compares our samples with a range of ten different datasets. It’s a statistical study more than anything else. The Neandertal sequences just add another range of values to make comparisons with. After a couple of hundred thousand runs, I should be able to cut it down to the two or three sets that consistently give the best results in identifying erroneous results.”
“And you’re only using idle computer time.”
“Yes, ma’am. For now it’s strictly a background program that runs as an adjunct to the lab’s standard quality checks.”
Kowinski’s clear eyes studied him. David tensed, unsure what he’d do if the verdict went against him.
“I don’t suppose you’ve found any Neandertals among our recruits.”
“Only in the marines, ma’am.”
The colonel’s smile was brief but humanizing. “Carry on, Mr. Weir.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
David waited until he had seen the main doors of the lab offices swing closed behind her before he restored the full image on the screen, complete with the identifying codes that ran along the bottom.
If Kowinski had been able to read those codes, and understand them, she’d have realized the DNA they described did not come from Homo sapiens neanderthalensis. She’d have realized why he was working late and alone, and why he’d felt the need to lie to her.
Because the DNA sequence that was on the screen, that carried the gene tic markers of something other than human, was his own. Working swiftly, David copied the eight personnel files...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Thomas Dunne Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2010
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0312377444
• ISBN 13: 9780312377441
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Auflage: 1
• Anzahl der Seiten: 371
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar