"To the people who invent and build these bloodstream devices."

It was Goddard and he had said it as a statement, not a question. It was a good sign. He was joining in. He was getting excited himself.

"Exactly," Pierce said. "If you can supply the power, you can do a lot of things. A car without an engine is going nowhere. Well, this is the engine. And it will take a researcher in this field anywhere he wants to go."

"For example," Larraby said, "in this country alone, more than one million people rely on self-administered insulin injections to control diabetes. In fact, I am one of them. It is conceivable in the not too distant future that a cellular device could be built, programmed and placed in the bloodstream and that this device would measure insulin levels and manufacture and release that amount which is needed."

"Tell them about anthrax," Condon said.

"Anthrax," Pierce said. "We all know from events of the last year how deadly a form of bacteria this is and how difficult it can be to detect when airborne. What this research field is heading toward is a day when, say, all postal employees or maybe members of our armed forces or maybe just all of us will have an implanted biochip that can detect and attack something like anthrax before it is allowed to cultivate and spread in the body."

"You see," Larraby said, "the possibilities are limitless. As I said, the science will be there soon. But how do you power these devices in the body? That's been the bottleneck to the research. It's been a question that has been out there for a long time."

"And we think the answer is our recipe," Pierce said. "Our formula."

Silence again. He looked at Goddard and knew he had him. The saying is, don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes. Pierce could see the whites now. Goddard had probably been in the right place at the right time and gotten in on a lot of good things over the years. But nothing like this. Nothing that could make him money down the line -plenty of it -and also make him a hero. Make him feel good about taking that money.

"Can we see the demonstration now?" Bechy asked.

"Absolutely," Pierce said. "We have it set up on the SEM."

He led the group to what they called the imaging lab. It was a room about the size of a bedroom and contained a computerized microscope that was built to the dimensions of an office desk with a twenty-inch viewing monitor on top.

"This is a scanning electron microscope," Pierce said. "The experiments we deal with are too small to be seen with most microscopes. So what we do is set up a predetermined reaction with which we can test our project. We put the experiment in the SEM's vault and the results are magnified and viewed on the screen."

He pointed to the boxlike structure located on a pedestal next to the monitor. He opened a door to the box and removed a tray on which a silicon wafer was displayed.

"I'm not going to get into specifically naming the proteins we are using in the formula but in basic terms what we have on the wafer are human cells and to them we add a combination of certain proteins which bind with the cells. That binding process creates the energy conversion we are talking about. A release of energy that can be harnessed by the molecular devices we were talking about earlier. To test for this conversion, we place the whole experiment in a chemical solution that is sensitive to this electric impulse and responds to it by glowing. Emitting light."

While Pierce put the experiment tray back in the vault and closed it, Larraby continued the explanation of the process.

"The process converts electrical energy into a biomolecule called ATP, which is the body's energy source. Once created, ATP reacts with leucine -the same molecule that makes fireflies glow. This is called a chemiluminescent process."

Pierce thought Larraby was getting too technical. He didn't want to lose the audience. He gestured Larraby to the seat in front of the monitor and the immunologist sat down and began working the keyboard. The monitor's screen was black.

"Brandon is now putting the elements together," Pierce said. "If you watch the monitor, the results should be pretty quick and pretty obvious."

He stepped back and ushered Goddard and Bechy forward so they would be able to look over Larraby's shoulders at the monitor. He moved to the back of the room.

"Lights."

The overheads went off, leaving Pierce happy that his voice had returned enough to normal to fall within the audio receptor's parameters. The blackness was complete in the windowless lab, save for a dull glow from the gray-black screen of the monitor. It was not enough light for Pierce to watch the other faces in the room. He put his hand on the wall and traced it to the hook on which hung a set of heat resonance goggles. He unhooked them and pulled them over his head. He reached to the battery pack on the left side and turned the device on. But then he flipped the lenses up, not ready to use them.

He had put the goggles on the hook that morning. They were used in the laser lab but he had wanted them here in imaging because it would allow him to secretly watch Goddard and Bechy and gauge their reactions.

"Okay, here we go," Larraby said. "Watch the monitor."

The screen remained gray-black for almost thirty seconds and then a few pinpoints of light appeared like stars through a cloudy night sky. Then more, and then more, and then the screen looked like the Milky Way.

Everyone was silent. They just watched.

"Go to thermal, Brandon," Pierce finally said.

Part of the choreography. End with a crescendo. Larraby worked the keyboard, so adept that he did not need any light to see the commands he was typing.

"Going thermal means we'll see colors," Larraby said. "Gradations in impulse intensity, from blue on the low end to green, yellow, red and then purple on the high end."

The monitor screen came alive with waves of color. Yellows and reds mostly, but enough purple to be impressive. The color rippled in a chain reaction across the screen. It undulated like the surface of the ocean at night. It was the Las Vegas strip from thirty thousand feet.

"Aurora borealis," someone whispered.

Pierce thought it might have been Goddard's voice. He flipped down the lenses and now he was seeing colors, too. Everyone in the room glowed red and yellow in the vision field of the goggles. He focused in on Goddard's face. The gradations of color allowed him to see in the dark. Goddard was intently focused on the computer screen. His mouth was open. His forehead and cheeks were deep red -maroon going to purple -as his face heated with excitement.

The goggles were a form of scientific voyeurism, allowing him to see what people thought they were hiding. He saw Goddard's face break into a wide red smile as he viewed the monitor. And in that moment Pierce knew the deal was done. They had the money, they had secured their future. He looked across the darkened room and saw Charlie Condon leaning against the opposite wall. Charlie was looking back at him, though he didn't have on any goggles. He looked out into the darkness toward where he knew Pierce would be standing. He nodded once, knowing the same thing without needing the goggles.

It was a moment to savor. They were on their way to becoming rich and possibly even famous men. But that wasn't the thing for Pierce. It was something else, something better than money. Something he couldn't put in his pocket but he could put in his head and his heart and it would earn interest measured in pride at staggering rates.

That's what the science gave him. Pride that overcame everything, that took back redemption for everything that had ever gone bad, for every wrong turn he had ever made.

Most of all, for Isabelle.

He slipped off the goggles and hung them back on the hook.