skin cell renewal and the cloning of genetically modified pigs whose organs were compatible with human tissue and could conceivably be used in the transplant market. It was at that point that Professor Dante had persuaded Sir Angus Turnbull, the head of the Roslin Institute, to allow him to set up an independent facility on the premises to work on an area even more controversial than cloning, ABRT, Accelerated Biological Reconstruction Technique. It was his area of expertise and he knew, once perfected, it would revolutionise the world of medicine.
John Dante had been working in secret, reconstituting lost fingers and toes with great success. His new remit was to work on organ reconstitution, using the DNA of the patient. A DNA fingerprint could provide many useful components. Stretches of DNA could be copied and pieces lined up in such a way, according to size, that they could be utilised in his new technique. Today they were to go public, bringing to the press conference, James Croll, who was their star patient.
The professor read aloud the controversial opening statement from the press release.
‘Today, ladies and gentlemen, we present a miracle of Biblical proportions.’ He pondered these words. Were they too strong? Possibly! He had no doubt that he was on the brink of performing miracles, but was it too early to announce this to a sceptical public?
He got up and paced across to the window, glancing at his watch. ‘Three o’clock. Not long now.’ Then another thought intruded. ‘Wendy!’ He had been so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten about his 15 year old daughter. He crossed to his desk and called his secretary, Maggie. ‘Hello, Maggie. Can you drop everything and get in touch with Wendy for me? She’ll be getting out of school soon and I’d like you to pick her up and bring her over here. This is going to be a long day with the press conference. I don’t want her to be alone at home, as I have no idea when I’ll finish.’
‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got a break coming up. We’ll both be back here in time for your big moment.’
‘Thanks, Maggie, you’ve saved my life.’ John Dante picked up his notes and promptly forgot about Wendy.
Maggie hung up, and sent a text to the professor’s daughter. Within minutes she’d had a reply and was on her way to meet Wendy outside the school.
The three teenage girls ran down the steps of the school, still giggling about an incident in class earlier that afternoon. ‘Was that not hilarious, when Ellie asked the French teacher if she could close the window as the rain was coming in?’ laughed Emma.
‘She was so-o-o scared to say anything that her voice was trembling,’ replied Stacey. ‘I’m amazed she had the guts to speak at all.’
‘I couldn’t believe my ears when Mr. McLeod said with that dead pan expression of his on his face, ‘Bring your umbrella tomorrow, girl!’ said Wendy, trying to imitate the French master’s booming voice.
‘My God,’ gasped Emma, clutching Wendy’s arm. ‘You sound just like him! That’s incredible.’
Wendy Dante, with her twinkling blue eyes and ready smile, was a popular girl at Rothes School. Today, she wore a brightly coloured hat pulled down over her ears to ward off the cold wind, but blowing freely around her shoulders was her distinctive long, curly red hair. It was that feature which distinguished her from the other girls at her school; the very feature which two scoundrels were noting from a dark van parked close to the school gates. The girls were wearing identical maroon blazers and navy pleated skirts, the uniform of the school. Each carried a backpack of books as they hurried across the playground. The rain of earlier, which had caused the hilarity, had stopped for now, but the blustery wind was gusting and the last leaves of the season were drifting over the grass to gather in heaps against the railings by the gates that the girls were now approaching.
As they
John Dante had been working in secret, reconstituting lost fingers and toes with great success. His new remit was to work on organ reconstitution, using the DNA of the patient. A DNA fingerprint could provide many useful components. Stretches of DNA could be copied and pieces lined up in such a way, according to size, that they could be utilised in his new technique. Today they were to go public, bringing to the press conference, James Croll, who was their star patient.
The professor read aloud the controversial opening statement from the press release.
‘Today, ladies and gentlemen, we present a miracle of Biblical proportions.’ He pondered these words. Were they too strong? Possibly! He had no doubt that he was on the brink of performing miracles, but was it too early to announce this to a sceptical public?
He got up and paced across to the window, glancing at his watch. ‘Three o’clock. Not long now.’ Then another thought intruded. ‘Wendy!’ He had been so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten about his 15 year old daughter. He crossed to his desk and called his secretary, Maggie. ‘Hello, Maggie. Can you drop everything and get in touch with Wendy for me? She’ll be getting out of school soon and I’d like you to pick her up and bring her over here. This is going to be a long day with the press conference. I don’t want her to be alone at home, as I have no idea when I’ll finish.’
‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got a break coming up. We’ll both be back here in time for your big moment.’
‘Thanks, Maggie, you’ve saved my life.’ John Dante picked up his notes and promptly forgot about Wendy.
Maggie hung up, and sent a text to the professor’s daughter. Within minutes she’d had a reply and was on her way to meet Wendy outside the school.
The three teenage girls ran down the steps of the school, still giggling about an incident in class earlier that afternoon. ‘Was that not hilarious, when Ellie asked the French teacher if she could close the window as the rain was coming in?’ laughed Emma.
‘She was so-o-o scared to say anything that her voice was trembling,’ replied Stacey. ‘I’m amazed she had the guts to speak at all.’
‘I couldn’t believe my ears when Mr. McLeod said with that dead pan expression of his on his face, ‘Bring your umbrella tomorrow, girl!’ said Wendy, trying to imitate the French master’s booming voice.
‘My God,’ gasped Emma, clutching Wendy’s arm. ‘You sound just like him! That’s incredible.’
Wendy Dante, with her twinkling blue eyes and ready smile, was a popular girl at Rothes School. Today, she wore a brightly coloured hat pulled down over her ears to ward off the cold wind, but blowing freely around her shoulders was her distinctive long, curly red hair. It was that feature which distinguished her from the other girls at her school; the very feature which two scoundrels were noting from a dark van parked close to the school gates. The girls were wearing identical maroon blazers and navy pleated skirts, the uniform of the school. Each carried a backpack of books as they hurried across the playground. The rain of earlier, which had caused the hilarity, had stopped for now, but the blustery wind was gusting and the last leaves of the season were drifting over the grass to gather in heaps against the railings by the gates that the girls were now approaching.
As they
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