Alchemist by Peter James Page A

suspicion. And she knew that however fond of Walter she might be, it was people of the calibre of this Seals character that they really needed – but could not afford.
    A squat gold frog, the size of a football, occupied centre stage of Sir Neil’s massive desk. Monty wondered if it was a trophy and thought, irreverently, that it was not dissimilar to Rorke’s own shape. She disliked frogs and this one had a reptilian smile that made her shudder when she glanced at it.
    There were few other items on the desk: a leather blotter, a silver receptacle for pens, a dictating machine and telephone, and a computer terminal. There was not a single sheet of paper in sight anywhere in the office, and she suddenly realized that she couldn’t remember seeing any paper in any of the labs either.
    To the right of the desk was a tall, white machine that Monty at first thought might be connected with the air system. She had noticed similar machines in all the downstairs labs. Then she recalled seeing such a machine in a movie recently, and realized what it must be: a paper shredder.
    The four of them were seated at a conference table, ready to drink the tea just poured by Rorke’s secretary. Rorke picked up his spoon and began to stir his cup, then he spoke.
    â€˜Dr Bannerman, let’s be direct with each other. I know your views about patenting scientific discoveries, and in particular human genes, and I’m not unsympathetic. But in the real world, money has to come from somewhere, and our profits at Bendix Schere come from the manufacture of pharmaceuticals on which we hold patents.’ He raised a hand. ‘The life of a patent in the UK is only twenty years. We have exclusivity for that period. But considering the resources we have to invest in developing our products, it’s really a very short time.’
    Monty wondered if her father was going to launch into one of his antipatenting polemics, but to her relief he sat impassively, staring back at Rorke. He had obviously been impressed by what they’d been shown that afternoon, and whilst he might have strong opinions, and contempt for the establishment, he was no fool. And what he had seen today was a display of the finest research tools that money could buy.
    â€˜We could kick some funding into your laboratory in Berkshire,’ Rorke went on. ‘But I don’t think we’d get the best value for our investment that way, and frankly I don’t think, even with proper funding, that you can reach anywhere near your true potential with your current set-up. Dr Crowe and I both believe you’re the finest genetics scientist in this country, and probably the world. And you still have a great many highly productive years ahead of you, whether we do business together or not.’
    Bannerman smiled, waiting for the crunch.
    â€˜If you were given the right facilities, and the right funding, I think you could achieve very much more – and that’s not to demean all you’ve done to date.’
    â€˜What kind of facilities?’
    â€˜The kind you’ve seen down on the sixth, seventh and eighth floors here; the kind we have at our UK plants in Reading, Birmingham and Edinburgh. Or overseas in Bern, Frankfurt and Charlottesville.’ Rorke paused and picked uphis teacup. ‘Our proposal is very simple: we’d like you to join the Bendix Schere Foundation as head of our entire worldwide genetics research programme.’
    Bannerman shook his head. ‘I’m very flattered, gentlemen, but I’m a scientist not a businessman. I want to do research – not run an organization.’
    â€˜I think perhaps Sir Neil hasn’t made it quite clear,’ Crowe said. ‘Research is exactly what we
want
you to do, and nothing else. You would have the entire human resources and all the facilities in the Bendix Schere Foundation to utilize in any way you wanted.’
    Dick Bannerman didn’t miss a beat.