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stress . . . I haven’t slept in days. But I’m not tired. Really, I’m not.”
    Niedermann noticed Gifford moving his pen over the sheets of DNA sequence printouts. When Niedermann looked more closely, he saw that the pages were covered with little black doodles. That was odd. Gifford was no doodler.
    Gifford threw down his pen. “Have you talked to the people on the New York end? Phone lines and websites are up?”
    â€œUp and ready. Radio City Music Hall is available, too, and our people have started planning decorations for it.”
    â€œRadio City?” Gifford frowned. “I told you I wanted the ceremonies outside, in the Lower Plaza. I want that gilded statue of Prometheus framing the dais from every camera view. ‘Prometheus, teacher in every art, who brought the fire that hath proved to mortals a means to mighty ends.’ Do you not understand the symbolism?”
    â€œWe need Radio City in case it rains. There’s a sixty percent chance of—”
    â€œNever mind the rain. Just ask your people to carry out their instructions.”
    Niedermann laughed. He resented Gifford’s arrogance, but still needed to humor him . For now. “Relax. The plaza is ours. Radio City is just for backup.”
    Gifford went back to looking at his DNA sequence charts.
    â€œYou haven’t answered my question about the proxies.”
    â€œI have to think about it,” Gifford muttered.
    â€œIt’s in your interest, Charles.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œWhen Phillip Eden signed the deal for the Methuselah Vector, he bought out your start-up company, Aeterna Enterprises, in exchange for thirty percent of the voting stock of Eden Pharmaceuticals. He made you an instant billionaire.”
    â€œYes. He was very generous.”
    â€œNo, he shortchanged you, if the truth be told. The Methuselah Vector is the most important drug in the history of mankind. You could have gotten a much better deal.”
    Gifford shrugged. “Even if you’re right, so what? The contract’s been signed.”
    â€œContracts can be rewritten. What would you say to three billion dollars in construction capital for our joint venture with Acadia Springs? Plus five hundred million a year for research—for anything at all; you would have absolute discretion—guaranteed for ten years? This, of course, would be on top of the billion and a half we’ve already spent or committed to the Methuselah Vector itself. It would all be yours, free and clear. That, plus a permanent seat on the board of directors.”
    â€œIn exchange for . . .”
    â€œA simple signature on the shareholder’s proxy form.”
    Gifford smiled and sighed. “Ah, yes, the proxies.”
    â€œAll it does is transfer your voting rights at the next shareholders’ meeting of Eden Pharmaceuticals, Incorporated.”
    â€œAt which I shall wield thirty percent of the votes, if I understand correctly. Second only to Phillip Eden and the Eden family bloc.”
    â€œYes.”
    Gifford leaned back in his chair. “And what do you intend to do with my proxy votes?”
    â€œThe company needs new leadership, Charles. The Methuselah Vector is a new drug for a new age. It begs for a CEO who isn’t afraid to go where no one’s gone before.”
    Gifford smiled. “You?”
    Niedermann stiffened. “After the ceremonies today, I intend to issue a call for an emergency meeting of the Eden stockholders. A coup d’état, if you will.”
    â€œWith only thirty percent of the votes?”
    â€œThere are others with a stake in the company who will join me.”
    â€œI see. Might one perhaps find them gathered this very moment in the lounge of Grainger House?”
    Niedermann smiled but said nothing.
    Gifford drew his hands over his face and sighed. “Jack, you were the first person to recognize the unique promise of the Methuselah Vector.