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experience. Sordid as it was he'd comfort himself with the trite old saw of the end justifying the means. And in this case the end certainly did justify almost any means. Gene manipulation being green-lighted by Congress opened the way to massive nationwide adoption of their technologies and later, even, a pill that could be mass marketed. GenLabs could single-handedly reduce birth defects to almost zero, and practically eliminate every other life-crippling disease and genetic disorder that haunted modern man.
    "This is huge," he said, finally releasing the breath he'd been unwittingly holding, "The scope is almost unimaginable."
    "Not to mentions the profits!" Geoffrey laughed.
    "Why is Denville doing this now? He's always opposed us."
    "Every man has his price, Jeff."
    "And what was his?"
    Geoffrey laughed again in a short burst. The sound came through the line with a distorted maniacal tone that Jeff could not decipher whether was due to the cellular connection or something darker.
    "Trust me," said Geoffrey, "you'd rather not know."
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    "PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME and title for the record."
    "Harold Kinsel, Lead Forensics Specialist, State Police Bureau."
    "Thank you, Mr. Kinsel." Alton smiled thinly at the man, who gazed back at him with dark mole-like eyes behind thick glasses. Sweat was beaded on his porcine brow at which he mopped frequently with a folded handkerchief. His appearance belied the considerable expertise of his resume.
    Alton launched into a protracted back and forth exchange establishing the man's bona fides as an expert for the jury. He then walked his witness through the steps taken by his team in examining the evidence, the careful cross-checking and authentication of their findings, and at length came to the crux of the matter; and the linchpin of his case. He would seal up means and opportunity even though motive may forever remain a mystery.
    "Mr. Kinsel, based upon the detailed forensic investigation you've just described to us, can you make a definitive statement as to whether the shotgun found at the scene was in fact the murder weapon?"
    Kinsel mopped his brow once more, pushed his glasses up the pudgy nose, and answered in a carefully metered tone, "Yes, it was the murder weapon."
    "And are your findings conclusive on that score?"
    "Yes, sir, they are."
    "Mr. Kinsel, can you explain to us how you can be so sure?"
    Kinsel straightened in his chair. He cleared his throat and touched his top lip with the handkerchief before leaning in to the microphone. "Well, Mr. McBride, a shotgun shell - as you may know - consists of numerous lead projectiles encased within a plastic shell. Unlike traditional bullets they don't gather rifling marks while exiting the barrel, so cannot be identified by a standard ballistic firing test. However," He raised a thick finger in the air, "using some newer techniques there are ways to make the identification." He sat back in his chair with a knowing smile and mopped his brow, seeming to enjoy the attention in an altogether awkward manner.
    Alton smiled back at him. "Please enlighten us, Mr. Kinsel."
    "The shotgun shell, you see, has a fused end. Of course it would have to, otherwise the buckshot - uh, the projectiles within - would simply fall out. When fired the projectiles are expelled at velocity, breaking through the uppermost plastic casing. Fragments of this plastic were naturally found in the victim's cranial remains. Now normally one couldn't identify the source of a plastic fragment by its chemical composition - plastic being so ubiquitous - but," He paused for a breath with the chubby finger raised once more, "during the firing of the shell, when the plastic casing is torn apart at velocity the plastic polymers undergo a substantive change due to the high speed rending of their fibers combined with the additional chemical reaction with lead and gunpowder during the firing of the explosive charge. The result is a very distinct