PAT KENNEDY UNKNOWN TO HIS FRIENDS had contracted Covid-19, the symptoms had been mild and he had self-quarantined in his vast London home, on Cheney Walk, where he could enjoy the garden during the fine weather that had coincided with the pandemic in London.
A month later after feeling slightly breathless with a vague sense of fatigue he had consulted Robert McGoldrick, a close friend and an eminent neurologist at London University Hospital. Robert arranged a visit to a specialist at UCLPartners, who had Pat undergo a general check-up plus a lung and brain scan.
The result was not great, more tests were needed, McGoldrick putting on a professional face told him not to worry and suggested he take some rest, lightheartedly recommending Nice where he could visit LifeGen.
Pat wondered what that meant, he’d never suffered health problems and rarely visited doctors except to fulfill the annual obligation to his bank that required the CEO and other senior officers undergo a health check.
He was well built, six foot, and played racket sports regularly, he didn't smoke or drink, apart from a very occasional glass of wine at a dinner or a function. At first Pat shrugged it off, but as the idea that he was perhaps not in perfect health sunk in—with all that that implied, he began to realise there existed a possibility he would never see his long term plans develop, even worse was the thought that perhaps he would not see his two young children grow up.
It was like a slow motion crash. Fate had played him a bad hand, with all his wealth he came to the realisation he would suffer the same fate as that of millions of ordinary people, the vast majority of whom could never—even in their wildest dreams, have imagined the kind of wealth and power he possessed.
Pat didn’t need to ask his friend to keep the news confidential. At the same time he decided, for the moment, not to tell his wife Lili, who was already concerned about her family in China. Instead he suggested they with the children take a break at their villa at Beaulieu-sur-Mer, just outside of Nice where he could, as McGoldrick suggested, catch up on the news at LifeGen.
Pat, who behind his business façade was a romantic, had always held a special feeling for Provence and the Côte d'Azur, a region he had discovered as a young newly wed when he stayed in nearby Eze with his first wife. There was the beauty of the setting, seafront gardens filled with brightly coloured flowers, graceful trees and palms.
Many years later as a guest at the Villa Contessina, Pat was enchanted by its fine 19th century Italian architecture and classical style. It lay on a hill surrounded by typically Mediterranean gardens with tall cypresses, pines, gnarled magnolias, violet bougainvillea and citrus trees sagging with ripe fruit.
From the pool terrace the Beaulieu marina could be seen below, to the right was Cap-Saint-Jean-Ferrat.
The villa’s beauty and tranquility reminded Pat of Scott Fitzgerald’s description in his novel Tender is the Night:
‘They dined at the new Beach Casino at Monte Carlo… much later they swam in Beaulieu in a roofless cavern of white moonlight formed by a circlet of pale boulders about a cup of phosphorescent water, facing Monaco and the blur of Menton.’
Besides Beaulieu’s Belle Époque Mediterranean setting and the fact it had somehow escaped the excesses of modern development, there was the practical aspect, it lay just 10 kilometres from Nice’s international airport and 30 kilometres from Sophia Antipolis where Pat had set up the LifeGen facility.
Sir Patrick was keeping a low public profile far from the diplomatic storm that was raging between London and Beijing over Hong Kong, the last thing he wanted was to be trapped by journalists into some offhand statement that would damage his business concerns in the two countries. He was caught in a balancing act which could be very costly to his bank if he wrong-footed political sensitivities.
The accumulation of the Covid-19 pandemic, his own health concerns and Hong Kong had caught him in the unawares.
That morning as his butler, George Melley, served breakfast on the terrace of Villa Contessina, he couldn’t help observing Sir Patrick was preoccupied, his usual almost carefree humour was absent.
‘Tell Jean-Paul to get the car ready, I’ll be going to LifeGen after breakfast.’
‘Yes Sir Patrick,’ George replied. He not only played the role of a perfect butler, he enjoyed it.
‘I won’t be back for lunch.’
‘When can we expect Madame?’
‘She’ll be arriving with the children tomorrow, early afternoon, you can check the flight and get Jean-Paul to pick them up.’
Pat checked the news on his tablet, noting Huawei was in the headlines as London moved to block the telecom giant from participating in the new G5 project. He turned his attention to the view, he needed to get his mind off business. London was now in the hands of Liam Clancy and Angus was looking after Hong Hong.
There was also a report from Henrique da Souza in Brazil, and an update on his project in Colombia from Tom Barton, he’d look at them later.
As he was driven over to Sophia Antipolis he read the latest report on a compound called NDGA. The name rang a bell. Hadn’t Anna Basurko told him of a sacred Aztec drink made from the leaves of a tree?'
It was mid-morning when he arrived at the LifeGen site in Sophia Antipolis, a few kilometres to the north of Nice, where he was met by Michel Morel and Henri Ducros who took him on a tour of the laboratories and the latest installations.
It looked good, but to Pat a laboratory was a laboratory, the world of microorganisms and compounds was invisible to the casual visitor and beyond his comprehension.
What he could do, however, was provide the help LifeGen needed and he asked what he could do to progress their research.
Michel expressed his concern that LifeGen’s work was hampered by the need of a vital tool, one which would require an investment of at least 25 million dollars, plus an extremely powerful computer to analysis the results of its work. The trouble was not the money, Pat Kennedy could afford that. It was the availability of such a tool and training a team to operate such a highly sophisticated installation.
Weighing two tons and four metres high, such microscopes could produce 3-D images of molecules and atoms for research purposes, a tool that would enormously facilitate and accelerate their research into the ageing of human cells.
Pat understood and perhaps he had a solution.
*
The next day, Pat called his friend Pierre Ros and invited him to lunch. Pierre was head of the Faculty of Science at the St Charles Campus of Aix-Marseille University, which had successfully undertaken a scientific investigation to authenticate works of art in the Sommières Collection for Pat Kennedy some three years earlier.
Now Pat needed his help again.
Pierre was a fine gourmet and though Marseille was full of excellent restaurants, there was none better than that aboard Pat’s yacht, Las Indias, anchored for the summer season off Cassis, a few kilometres to the east of the city.
It was an invitation Pierre couldn’t refuse, it was not everyday he was invited aboard such a yacht. With its 90 metres it was amongst the world’s top 50 yachts, a floating palace, though Pat had transformed it to something that resembled a research vessel, much better in the eyes of ecologists like Kyril Kyristoforos, another of Pat's friends.
The weather was perfect when Pierre arrived in the small fishing town set in a bay between Cap Canaille and Port Miou. Pat met him as he stepped out of his car on Quai des Baux and together they exchanged news as they strolled past the pastel-colored buildings, sidewalk cafes and restaurants towards the quayside.
He pointed Pierre towards the cutter that was waiting for them. A few moments later they were heading out into the bay where Las Indias was anchored.
After climbing the gangway to the lower deck, Pat's captain, Steve Bogart, who went by the name ‘Humph’ to his friends, stood waiting to greet them with a naval salute and a friendly smile. Humph, a Westcountryman, had been captain of Las Indias since Pat Kennedy had acquired her some three years earlier. They shook hands warmly, ignoring the Covid precautions, with Pat assuring Pierre all was disinfected and everybody tested.
They took the lift to the upper forward deck where they had a magnificent view of the small fishing port overlooked by its centuries-old château and the coastline marked by its calanques, narrow inlets framed by steep limestone cliffs and beyond Cap Canaille, a rocky headland.
As they were served chilled Champagne, Pat, almost whispering, announced, ‘What I’m looking for Pierre, is help in molecular bioscience.’
Pierre looked at Pat strangely wondering what he was now getting into. He had worked closely with Pat on the Sommières Collection and had helped him out on his other projects, each of which was as remarkable as the other.
‘I have read you’ve have a new electron microscope in Marseilles.’
‘That’s right, last year we installed a Cryo-Electron Microscope in our Biomedical Research Institute at Montpellier University. Steve Swartz, he’s director of the institute, a good friend, from New Orleans by the way, lived in France for most of his life, specialised in cellular research.’
‘What's he working on?’
‘Worms,’ said Pierre, bursting out into laughter, before he saw Pat’s puzzlement. ‘I’m not kidding worms.’
‘Worms.’
‘Yes, a small transparent roundworm called Caenorhabditis elegans, they live in gardens and compost heaps. Only one millimetre long.’
‘What does that have to do with LifeGen?’
‘A lot, let me explain. Steve is investigating the reasons why cells suddenly begin to decline when animals reach reproductive maturity. It seems that the ageing process turns off the stress responses that protect the cell. It’s like a switch that’s thrown in early adulthood, after the animal starts to reproduce, that is when reproduction ensures the continuity of its line.’
‘I see, so how does this affect, humans?’
‘Well, this genetic switch that play a role in the aging process is common in all animals, including us, and Caenorhabditis elegans has a biochemical environment similar to ours.’
Pat raised his head looking at the extraordinary landscape beyond the deck of his yacht. ‘Not mine,’ he announced grinning broadly.
‘Steve’s team is working on this switch and how to control it,’ replied Pierre dismissing Pat’s humour.
‘You see the aging process consists of a whole swath of degenerative diseases related to cellular stress and the person who discovers any means of preventing cellular stress will make a fortune.’
Pat said nothing.
‘So how’s LifeGen doing?’
‘Well I’d like to use your Cryo-Electron Microscope to help LifeGen do some research work.’
‘That may be difficult, they have a heavy work load at the moment.’
‘I’m willing to be very generous.’
‘I’ll see what can we can do Pat. Steve is realistic, they’re always on the lookout for new sources of funding.’