Chapter Thirty-Five
Benito Montoya handed Denton a single sheet of transparency. ‘You’re not going to like this.’
Denton placed it on the left side of the light box in Benito’s office. The sheet showed a single cell, tinted violet. It was so large that a quarter of it filled the clear background. The texture reminded him of hair gel.
Benito placed another sheet on the right side of the light box. The image was almost identical to the sheet on the left, except for tiny sapphire-colored lozenges sprinkled around the cell like orbiting debris, and Benito’s greasy fingerprint, which made Denton cringe.
‘What am I looking at?’ he said, trying to ignore the MSG stench of instant soup that seemed to emanate from Benito’s desk.
‘The left image is a red blood cell infected with a provirus,’ Be
