The Jury by Steve Martini Page B

engineering department. Graduates near the top of his class, and
    nearly gets trampled in the recruiting stampede that follows. Every company on the Fortune Five Hundred and a dozen universities all bidding for his services.
    One thing's real clear." Harry takes a sip of scotch.
    "The lad's not going back to Detroit."
    He flips a few pages, finds his place.
    "After that, Epperson spends a year working for this corporation. Place called .. . Cyber--genom, genam, genomics."
    He looks at me.
    I shrug.
    "According to what I could find out, they're not on the Internet. At least Cybergenomics Incorporated, is not. Gotta be some hightech thing with a name like that. Anyway, a year later Epperson ends up going to work for Crone at the lab. That's it as far as his resume goes."
    "Is there any indication that he might have known Jordan before he went to work there?"
    "Get to that in a minute," says Harry.
    "What's interesting is that I asked Crone that very question. He told me he didn't think so. What's more, neither Epperson nor Jordan has a background in medicine, life sciences or genetics, and yet they're working at this genetics lab. She's into this thing called molecular electronics. His specialty is nanorobotics."
    "What's that?"
    "Field of engineering," says Harry.
    "Involves small robots. We're talking microscopic here. Riverdancers doing their fling on the head of a pin."
    "What are these robots used for?"
    "Got me. I'm told one application could be medicine."
    "Well, there you go. There's the link," I say.
    "Right."
    "And what does Crone say?"
    "What he always says. Fell back on the old "My lips are sealed' crap. Like the highest calling of the scientist is to keep his mouth
    shut. They ought to put this asshole in charge of Los Alamos. He gets my vote.
    With a client like Crone, who needs a prosecutor? He'll screw himself to the wall before he's finished, and us, too. He's already doing a good job of it."
    Harry on a roll.
    "What are the other people at the lab saying?"
    "The same sorry mantra. Almost makes you think somebody got to them," he says.
    "Does, doesn't it?"
    "The only thing they would say was in reference to some old sci-fi flick, Fantastic Voyage. Ever see it?"
    I shake my head.
    "Must have missed that one."
    "They shoot this miniature submarine up some guy's nose or something. Inject it through a needle. Inside are people all shrunk down," says Harry.
    "I knew I missed it for a reason."
    "Anyway the plot line .. ." Harry ignores me.
    "They're going on a voyage through this guy's body to cure some disease or other. If I could remember what he was dying of, I could replace Siskel and Ebert."
    "Siskel's dead," I tell him.
    "Yeah, well, this tiny sub. It seems we're there."
    "What do you mean?"
    "I mean this nanorobotics shit."
    "Shrinking people?"
    "No. I don't think so. Just the submarine," says Harry.
    "Really?"
    "I don't know. Hell. They would talk and look over their shoulders. A couple of the lab techs. Probably laughing their asses off after I left. I had to pick my time carefully, when the guy Tash wasn't around."
    "Were they afraid of him? These lab techs?"
    "I don't know if afraid is the word. But he has a certain chilling ai93
    feet on conversation," says Harry.
    "It's like all these people took a vow of silence. And when Tash is around, you can't even get 'em to do sign language."
    "People I talked to were lab assistants. I got one of 'em to go on coffee break with me. Guy said he was speaking only in general terms. And if anybody asked, he wasn't speaking at all. All he would say about this nanorobotics was a reference to this movie."
    "Tiny submarines?"
    "That's the one. On a crash dive through some sorry guy's bowels. I don't wanna even know where they come out. I'm feeling like I've already been on that trip with Crone. When I pressed each of the lab techs, they all ended up singing the same old chorus. Trade secrets, in four-part harmony," says Harry.
    "Well, at least he's telling us something