Mutation

THE atmosphere at breakfast was anything but normal.

Marsha had promised herself as she took her morning shower that she would act as if everything was fine, but she found it impossible. When VJ appeared for breakfast about fifteen minutes behind schedule, she told him he’d better hurry since it was a school day. She knew she was baiting him, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Now that the secret is out,” VJ said, “I think it is rather ridiculous for me to go to school and pretend to be interested and absorbed in fifth-grade work.”

“But I thought it was important to maintain your anonymity,” Marsha persisted.

VJ glanced toward his father for support, but Victor calmly drank his coffee. He was staying out of it.

“At this point, going to school or not going to school will in no way affect my anonymity,” VJ said coldly.

“The law says you must go to school,” said Marsha.

“There are higher laws,” VJ retorted.

Marsha wasn’t going to make a stand alone. “Whatever you and Victor decide is fine with me,” she told them. She left for work before learning Victor’s decision.

“She is going to be trouble,” VJ warned once she was gone.

“She needs a little more time,” Victor said. “But you might have to come to some compromise on the school issue.”

“I don’t see why. It’s not going to help my work. If anything, it will slow things down. Aren’t results more important?”

“They’re important,” said Victor, “but they’re not everything. Now, how do you want to get to Chimera today? You want to ride with me?”

“Nope,” said VJ. “I want to take my bike. Is it all right for Philip to use yours?”

“Sure,” Victor said. “I’ll see you in your lab about midmorning. I’ll need the details on the implantation protein for the legal department to start the patent application. I also want to see the rest of your lab as well as the new lab.” Victor didn’t mention the episode with Ramirez earlier that morning.

“Fine,” VJ said. “Just be careful about coming. I don’t want any other visitors.”

Fifteen minutes later, VJ was plunging down Stanhope Street with the wind whistling past his head. Philip was right behind him on Victor’s bike, and behind Philip was Pedro in his Ford Taurus.

VJ told Philip and Pedro to wait for him outside when he went into the bank with his saddlebags. Luckily Mr. Scott was occupied with another customer, and VJ was able to use his safe deposit box for another large deposit without getting a lecture.

Victor’s ride to work was not as carefree. Although he tried to think of other things, his mind was haunted by Marsha’s words: “For an extremely rare cancer, a lot of people seem to be contracting it. People who cross VJ.”

Victor was wondering just how he’d feel if Marsha contracted it. Just how was VJ prepared to handle trouble?

Despite his apprehensions, Victor was fueled by enthusiasm for the new implantation protein project. He tackled the laborious administrative details that had accumulated by Monday morning with a good deal more equanimity than usual.

He welcomed the busywork; it kept his mind from wandering.

Colleen came in with her usual stack of messages and situations needing attention. Victor had her go through them rapidly before making any decisions, half hoping for some kind of communication that would suggest blackmail about the NGF project, but there was nothing.

The most satisfying decision involved the question of whether Victor wanted to press charges against Sharon Carver.

He told Colleen to let the parties know that he was willing to drop charges if the groundless sex-discrimination suit was also dropped.

The final item that Victor requested Colleen to do was to schedule a meeting with Ronald so that he could confront the man about the problems associated with the NGF work. If that didn’t turn up anything, which he didn’t expect it would, he would schedule a meeting with Hurst. Hurst had to be the culprit; in fact, Victor prayed as much. More than anything else he wanted to uncover some hard evidence that he could lay in front of Marsha and say: “VJ had nothing to do with this.”

Marsha found work intolerable. As much as she tried, she couldn’t maintain the degree of attention that was required for her therapy sessions. With no explanation, she suddenly told Jean to cancel the rest of the day’s appointments. Jean agreed but was clearly not pleased.

As soon as Marsha finished with the patients already there, she slipped out the back entrance and went down to her car. She took 495 to 93 and turned toward Boston. But she didn’t stop in Boston. She continued on the South East Expressway to Neponset, then on to Mattapan.

With the address slip unfolded on the seat next to her, Marsha searched for Martinez Enterprises. The neighborhood was not good. The buildings were mostly decaying wood-frame three-deckers with occasional burnt-out hulks.