Shock (30 page)

"Let's get out of here," Joanna said as soon as the doors were closed. Purposefully she avoided looking back at the child.

"I'm trying," Deborah said. She got the car started and backed out of the driveway.

They drove for a few minutes before speaking. Both were glad to be away.

"I'm horrified," Joanna said, finally breaking the silence.

"I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't be," Deborah said.

"What amazes me is that that woman acts like she hasn't a clue." Joanna said.

"Maybe she doesn't. But even if she does, she's probably wanted a child for so long she doesn't care. Infertile couples have been known to be desperate."

"Did you know immediately?" Joanna asked.

"Obviously," Deborah said. "I almost fell off the damn porch."

"What was it that made the association for you?"

"It was the whole package," Deborah said. "But if I had to narrow it down I suppose I'd have to say the baby's white forelock was the giveaway. I mean, that's pretty dramatic, especially on a six-month-old child."

"Did you notice the child's eyes?" Joanna shuddered as if chilled.

"Certainly," Deborah said. "They reminded me of a husky one of my uncles had, although the dog's were even more shockingly different colors."

"What bothers me so much is that what's probably the first human clone had to be cloned from one of my eggs."

"I can appreciate your feelings," Deborah said. "But I have to say what bothers me so much is who did it and whom he cloned. Paul Saunders is not the kind of person the world needs another copy of. Cloning himself means he's more egocentric and conceited and arrogant than I could have ever imagined, although I'll wager he'd try to argue he did it for science or mankind or some other ridiculous justification."

"At least there's none of me in that child," Joanna said. For the moment, she couldn't see beyond the personal aspect of the calamity.

"I hate to tell you this, but that's probably not true," Deborah said. "The egg contributes the mitochondrial DNA. The child has your mitochondria."

"I'm not even going to ask what mitochondria is," Joanna said.

"I don't want to know because I don't want to believe there's anything of me in that child."

"Well, we now have an explanation why the success rate with your eggs was so low. Cloning by nuclear transfer is like that. On the positive side, it was better than the people got who cloned the sheep, Dolly. I think they went through two hundred attempts or so before getting one positive. You've got four positives in less than three hundred."

"Are you trying to make a sick joke?" Joanna questioned. "If you are, I'm not finding it funny."

"I'm being serious," Deborah said. "They must be doing something right. Their statistic is more than twice as good."

"I'm certainly not going to give them any kudos," Joanna commented. "The whole affair makes me sick. I wish I hadn't gone in there, that's how terrible I feel."

"I would never tell you I told you so," Deborah teased. "I'd never do something like that. It would be too cruel."

Joanna smiled in spite of her distress. It was amazing how Deborah could always buoy her up no matter what the circumstance.

"But I do have another suggestion if you think you're capable."

"I hate to ask what you have in mind," Joanna said.

"I think we should visit the second child to see if our fears are justified."

They drove in silence for a while as Joanna considered the suggestion.

"It's not going to make it any worse," Deborah said eventually. "We've already experienced the shock. It might help us to decide what we're going to do about all this, if anything. That's a conundrum we've studiously avoided."

Joanna nodded. In that regard Deborah was totally correct. Not only had they not discussed what they were going to do, Joanna herself had purposefully avoided even thinking about it. Short of just turning it over to the media who would undoubtedly implicate them, whom could they tell? The problem was, they'd gotten the information by committing a felony. Joanna didn't know a lot about the law, but she knew that obtaining evidence criminally affected its utility. On top of that she didn't even know if human cloning carried out by a private clinic was against the law in the state of Massachusetts.

"All right," Joanna said impulsively. "Let's try to see the second child. But if it's the same situation, let's not go in." She reached for the second sheet of paper and pulled out her cell phone.

The surname of the second child was Webster, and the Websters lived in a town a number of miles closer in toward Boston than Bookford. Joanna placed the call. The phone rang more than five times. She was about to disconnect when the call was answered by a woman who was out of breath.

The conversation with Mrs. Webster was almost identical to the one with Mrs. Sard except for Mrs. Webster's breathlessness. She explained she'd had to run for the phone since she'd just taken Stuart out of the bath. Most important, she welcomed the women to stop by and gave explicit directions.

"At least the baby will be clean," Joanna said as she put away her cell phone.

A half hour later the women pulled into the driveway of a home that was the antithesis of the Sards'. The Websters' was a comparative mansion in brick colonial style with massive chimneys sprouting up like weeds in a garden. The women eyed the house and the carefully tended grounds. A rash of blooming magnolias and dogwoods graced the lawn.

"I'll have to say that Dr. Saunders is eclectic about his choice of stepparents," Deborah commented. "That is, if this child is another clone."

"Come on!" Joanna said. "Let's get this over with." The women proceeded up the flagstone walkway with reservation. Neither was entirely sure they wanted to go through with the visit, yet both felt compelled. Joanna pushed the doorbell.

Once again both Joanna and Deborah knew instantly that the child was a clone of Paul Saunders. The baby looked identical to the Sards' child with the same white forelock, the same hetero-chromic irises, and the same broad-based nose.

Mrs. Webster was as gracious as Mrs. Sard without Mrs. Sard's apparent starvation for company. She invited the women into her home, but the women declined and insisted on remaining on the front stoop.

Since Joanna had had time to adjust emotionally from the initial shock, she was able to participate more in the brief conversation with Mrs. Webster than she had with Mrs. Sard. Also, confronting a clean child in an environment more auspicious for the baby's well-being made the episode more tolerable. Out of curiosity, Joanna asked if the baby had any hearing problem. She was told that he did, and it sounded equivalent to the Sard baby's problem.

After leaving the Webster house the women were silent, each absorbed in their own troubled thoughts. It wasn't until they got onto Route 2 and got up to highway speed that Deborah spoke up: "I don't mean to beat this issue to death, but you can see now why I was disappointed we couldn't get into the Wingate research files. My intuition tells me they're doing something really wrong out there and this cloning we've stumbled on is just the tip of the iceberg. With the kind of arrogance Dr. Saunders undoubtedly has, the sky's the limit."

"Cloning humans is bad enough."

"I don't think it's bad enough to get Saunders et al. closed down," Deborah said. "In fact, if it gets out in the media that they're offering cloning, there might be a stampede of infertile couples to their doorstep."

"What can I say?" Joanna muttered. "As I told you, I did the best I could in that server room."

"I'm not blaming you."

"Yes, you are]"

"All right, maybe a little. It's just so frustrating."

They lapsed into silence again. The engine droned. In the distance the Boston skyline appeared along the horizon.

"Wait a second!" Deborah blurted suddenly, causing Joanna to start. "The shock of discovering the cloning has made us forget about the eggs!"

"What are you talking about?" Joanna questioned.

"The number of eggs they supposedly got from you," Deborah said. "How could they get hundreds unless ..." Deborah paused and stared out through the windshield with a horrified expression.

"Unless what?" Joanna demanded. Under the circumstances she found it more irritating than usual that Deborah was up to her old tricks.

"Look in the donor file," Deborah said quickly, "and see if there are any more donors who have supposedly given hundreds of eggs."

Muttering under her breath, Joanna reached into the backseat and with a grunt brought the heavy file onto her lap. She started at the beginning and didn't have to go through many pages. "There are plenty. And here's one that's even more impressive. Anna Alvarez is down for having given four thousand two hundred and five!"

"You have to be joking!"

"I'm not," Joanna said. "Here's another multi-thousand donor: Marta Arriga. And yet another: Maria Artiavia."

"They sound like Hispanic names."

"They certainly do," Joanna agreed. "Here's another, even more astounding. Mercedes Avila reputedly donated eight thousand seven hundred twenty-one!"

"Look and see if it suggests that all those eggs were individually implanted like with your eggs."

Joanna turned to the next page of Mercedes Avila's file and ran her finger down the column. "It seems to be the case."

"Then they probably were all destined to be nuclear transfer clones,' Deborah said. "Are they all followed by Paul Saunders's name?"

"Most of them,' Joanna said. "Although there are some with Sheila Donaldson's name as well."

"I should have guessed," Deborah said. "It means they're working together. But, tell me! When you leaf through the names, do there seem to be quite a few Hispanic names in general or was it just a fluke with the As?"

Joanna did as Deborah suggested. It took her several minutes. "Yes; there seem to be quite a few, and all of them are listed for having donated thousands of eggs."

"I wonder if that's the Nicaraguan connection?" Deborah questioned with a shudder.

"How so?"

"Female embryos have the maximum number of eggs in their ovaries for an individual's entire life," Deborah explained. "Someplace I read that at a particular point in embryonic development, the female embryo has close to seven or eight million, whereas when it is born it's down to a million, and by puberty down to three or four hundred thousand. Some distorted souls like Paul Saunders and Sheila Donaldson might think of the female embryo as a virtual gold mine."

"I don't think I like what you are suggesting," Joanna said.

"I don't either," Deborah said. "But unfortunately it stands to reason. These Nicaraguan women could be allowing themselves to be implanted and then subjected to abortions at twenty weeks just to get the eggs."

Joanna averted her eyes and stared out the side window as she shuddered through a wave of revulsion. What Deborah was saying was as horrific as the cloning, with its implications about the role of a woman and the lack of sanctity of human life. With difficulty she suppressed a caldron of emotion that threatened to bubble to the surface. She found herself wishing she'd never had anything to do with the Wingate Clinic. Having been involved as a donor made her feel like an accomplice.

"The problem with that scenario, if it is going on, is that it's legal. It might be a PR disaster to be happening at an infertility clinic, but it would be hard for anybody to do anything about it as long as the women were not being coerced."

"Paying them is a type of coercion!" Joanna snapped. "These women are poor and come from a struggling Third World country!"

"Hey, calm down! We're trying to have a discussion here."

"I'm not going to calm down!" Joanna spat. "And what was that thought of yours that you didn't finish about my eggs? I hate it when you leave me hanging like that."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Deborah said. "The Nicaraguan connection got me sidetracked. The only way I can imagine they got that many eggs from you is if they took your whole ovary."

Joanna swayed as if Deborah had slapped her. She had to shake her head to refocus her mind. With a tremulous voice Joanna asked Deborah to repeat herself in case Joanna had misunderstood.

Deborah took her eyes off the road to cast a quick glance at her roommate. She could hear from Joanna's voice that she was momentarily on thin emotional ice. "I'm just thinking out loud here," Deborah explained. "Don't get yourself in a dither."

"I deserve the right to get upset if you're suggesting they took my ovary," Joanna said, slowly and seemingly in perfect control.

"Then you come up with an alternate explanation for all the eggs," Deborah challenged. "This is a brainstorming session to try to make up for not having much information."

Joanna got a grip on herself and tried to think up another explanation as Deborah had suggested. With only high-school biology and girls' locker room chatter as her reproductive technology sources, she couldn't think of a thing.

"The most eggs I've ever heard of being harvested in an ovarian hyperstimulation was around twenty,' Deborah said. "Retrieving hundreds suggests to me some kind of ovarian tissue culture."

"Is it possible to culture ovarian tissue?" Joanna asked.

Deborah shrugged. "You know, I haven't the slightest idea. I'm a molecular biologist, not a cellular biologist. But it sounds reasonable."

"If they took one of my ovaries," Joanna asked, "how would it affect me?"

"Let's see," Deborah said, screwing up her face as if thinking deeply. "With half your usual ovarian production of estrogen, your adrenal testosterone level would be relatively doubled. That means you'll probably grow a beard, lose your breasts, and go bald."

Joanna looked at her roommate with renewed horror.

"I'm just kidding!" Deborah cried. "You're supposed to laugh."

"I'm afraid I don't find any of this funny."

"The truth is, there'd probably be very little effect, if any," Deborah said. "Maybe there could be a slight statistical drop in your fertility since you'd be reduced to ovulating from one ovary, but I'm not even sure of that."