The Third Twin - Ken Follett [92]
“I never heard of anyone called Ghita Sumra,” Jim said. “She can’t be high up.”
“Who do you know at the FBI?” Berrington said impatiently.
“Have you ever met the Creanes, David and Hilary?” Berrington shook his head.
“He’s an assistant director, she’s a recovering alcoholic. They’re both about fifty. Ten years ago, when I was running the CIA, David worked for me in the Diplomatic Directorate, keeping tabs on all the foreign embassies and their espionage sections. I liked him. Anyway, one afternoon Hilary got drunk and went out in her Honda Civic and killed a six-year-old kid, a black girl, on Beulah Road out in Springfield. She drove on, stopped at a shopping mall, and called Dave at Langley. He went over there in his Thunderbird, picked her up and took her home, then reported the Honda stolen.”
“But something went wrong.”
“There was a witness to the accident who was sure the car had been driven by a middle-aged white woman, and a stubborn detective who knew that not many women steal cars. The witness positively identified Hilary, and she broke down and confessed.”
“What happened?”
“I went to the district attorney. He wanted to put them both in jail. I swore it was an important matter of national security and persuaded him to drop the prosecution. Hilary started going to AA and she hasn’t had a drink since.”
“And Dave moved over to the Bureau and did well.”
“And boy, does he owe me.”
“Can he stop this Ghita woman?”
“He’s one of nine assistant directors reporting to the deputy director. He doesn’t run the fingerprint division, but he’s a powerful guy.”
“But can he do it?”
“I don’t know! I’ll ask, okay? If it can be done, he’ll do it for me.”
“Okay, Jim,” Berrington said. “Pick up the damn phone and ask him.”
27
JEANNIE SWITCHED ON THE LIGHTS IN THE PSYCHOLOGY LAB and Steve followed her in. “The genetic language has four letters,” she said. “A, C, G, and T.”
“Why those four?”
“Adenine, cytosine, guanine, and thymine. They’re the chemical compounds attached to the long central strands of the DNA molecule. They form words and sentences, such as “Put five toes on each foot.’ “
“But everyone’s DNA must say “Put five toes on each foot.’ “
“Good point. Your DNA is very similar to mine and everyone else’s in the world. We even have a lot in common with the animals, because they’re made of the same proteins as we are.”
“So how do you tell the difference between Dennis’s DNA and mine?”
“Between the words there are bits that don’t mean anything, they’re just gibberish. They’re like spaces in a sentence. They’re called oligonucleotides, but everyone calls them oligos. In the space between ‘five’ and ‘toes,’ there might be an oligo that reads TATAGAGACCCC, repeated.”
“Everyone has TATAGAGACCCC?”
“Yes, but the number of repeats varies. Where you have thirty-one TATAGAGACCCC oligos between ‘five’ and ‘toes,’ I might have two hundred and eighty-seven. It doesn’t matter how many you have, because the oligo doesn’t mean anything.”
“How do you compare my oligos with Dennis’s?”
She showed him a rectangular plate about the size and shape of a book. “We cover this plate with a gel, make slots all across the top, and drop samples of your