Page 164 of The Bone Code
“A Chinese court sentenced him and two of his coworkers to prison time and heavy fines.”
I glanced at my tablet. Put a check beside CRISPR.
“Can you explain the relevance of mRNA to vaccine manufacture?” The term used by Abilene Monger. The term that had roused the diligent cells in my hindbrain.
After a pause, “We’ve discussed traditional production methods.”
“Egg-based, cell-based, and recombinant.”
“Unfortunately, those approaches have not been as effective as hoped against rapidly evolving pathogens like influenza or against emerging disease threats such as Ebola or Zika viruses. Some researchers believe mRNA vaccines may prove superior.”
“How so?”
“By introducing an mRNA sequence—”
“Messenger RNA. A molecule that tells cells what to build.”
Bangoboshe ignored my interruption.
“Before injection, the mRNA is coated in lipid nanoparticles that allow the molecule to gain access to the interior of the recipient’s cells. Once inside, the mRNA codes for a disease-specific antigen.”
“A protein used by the pathogen to cause disease.” I knew I should shut up and listen, but I wanted to be sure I understood. “The idea being that the recipient’s immune system will recognize the protein and begin setting up a defense.”
“Yes. As with its counterparts, the mRNA vaccine enables the body to mimic an infection and elicit an immune response without causing actual disease.”
“What’s the advantage?”
“Quicker, cheaper, safer. So the proponents claim.”
“Is the technique in use now?”
“Several are in the pipeline for FDA approval. And, of course, there is the situation with the COVID vaccine.”
I juggled everything Bangoboshe had said. Not sure what she didduring the gap. Then, “This has been enormously helpful, Dr. Bangoboshe.”
“Now it’s back to grading for me. Would that my students were as keen as you. Or as apt.”
“Thanks so much for your time.”
“You are most welcome.”
Feeling keen and apt, I disconnected.
The sun had wrapped up its cycle, leaving the room in shadow. I was turning on lights when my phone sang a few bars about all day music.
The screen showed only an unfamiliar number. I was about to hit ignore when something caused me to hesitate. For some reason, I accepted the call.
“Temperance Brennan.”
“It’s Abilene. Abilene Monger. I work for Dr. Huger.”
“Of course, Abilene. How nice to hear from you.” Not sure that it would be.
“I, well, you said any little thing could be useful.” In case she wasn’t being clear, she added, “In finding your niece, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“I probably shouldn’t be talking to you. Could get me fired. But, well, your niece seemed like such a sweet little girl. It’s been tearing me up thinking about her lost somewhere and maybe needing help. I read all these dreadful stories about sex trafficking and such.”
