“Why?”
“This is big, Mrs. Petersen, bigger than both of us,” he said.
She considered him, and for a moment, he thought she would simply take up his invitation, but his obvious excitement also had spooked her a little. It was just so hard for him to be so patient.
“Let’s go To my home,” she said.
Demi knew Warren would be there, and her instincts were telling her to have a witness, another pair of ears and eyes, and, most important, someone with whom to confer. She believed that despite his obvious failings, Warren was a rock. She was with him because she sensed his strength. He made her feel safe. It was like going through life with her own personal bodyguard, not only to protect her against creeps in the streets, but creeps in suits and ties. Didn’t he return with her to the auto dealership last year and get the salesman to reduce the price of the car she wanted, and considerably, too? There were just too many places where a woman alone was still vulnerable in this society.
Besides, Allan Parker made her very nervous stalking her like this. Why didn’t he just call before he came? How long had he been waiting out here? Why didn’t he come into the salon? She never knew a doctor to behave this way.
“Sure,” Allan said. “I’ll follow you.”
She flicked a smile and hurried to her car. He stood watching her as if he didn’t believe she had one of her own. When she started it, he got into his and pulled out behind her. She fumbled for her cell phone. Warren better be there, she thought. He answered on the third ring.
“Doctor Parker is following me home. He was waiting for me outside of the beauty salon,” she began as soon as he said, “Hello.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
“He wants to talk Tome. I think it’s about Taylor’s blood sample.”
Warren was quiet.
“Warren?”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing yet. I didn’t let him say anything. He wanted to take me for coffee.”
“You did the right thing. He either wants his money back or wants more of Taylor’s blood,” he said. “He’s not getting either so easily.”
“I don’t think he wants his money back, Warren.”
“Um. We’ll see.”
“We’ll be there in ten minutes. Is Taylor in his room?”
“Where else would he be? I bet he’s surfing the Internet for porn.”
“Stop it, Warren.”
“Hey, I hope he is. At least we’ll know he’s a little normal.”
“He’s only fifteen, Warren. I know it’s easy to forget but…”
“I lost my virginity at thirteen, and kids today are supposed to be even wilder when it comes to that stuff. Taylor’s not what you call a normal teenager, Demi,” he told her. “Forget it. Just get home.”
She was so nervous she almost missed a turn to her own house. When she pulled into the driveway, Warren’s car blocked her entrance to the garage as usual. Allan had to park on the street. He did so quickly and hurried to join her at the front door as if he thought she might go in and lock him out. The thought had actually occurred to her, but Warren pulled the door open before she could reach for the handle. He stood looking out at the two of them and smiled.
He was dressed in a faded blue athletic T-shirt, which revealed his sharply cut muscular arms and shoulders, a pair of jeans, and was barefoot. He had a bottle of beer in his right hand, gripping it at the neck as if he wanted to use it as a club.
“Well, well, the good doctor again. And here I thought you guys didn’t make house calls anymore,” he said, widening his smile at what he thought was his own cleverness.
“This is very important, Mr….” Allan realized he didn’t remember his name. He was never significant enough for him to care.
“Moore,” Warren said. “Like in, ° want more.’ Every time someone says that, I get a phone call,” he added. It was his signature joke.
“Warren, please,” Demi said. She looked like she would faint.
Warren backed away to let them enter, as Demi turned to Allan.
“Let’s go in the living room,” she said. He glanced at Warren, who was still smiling dumbly, and followed her.
Allan sensed this was not going to be easy. He would have to draw on all his people skills. He hoped he had the patience. He couldn’t ever throw off the feeling that he was racing time, sprinting beside every clock. All over America, indeed the world, cancer patients were waiting anxiously to hear about his work, his discoveries. Like some ubiquitous Superman, he was everywhere fighting evil. His name was on every victim’s lips. “Allan Parker will save us. Have no fear.”
“Please,” Demi said indicating the sofa.
She sat in the chair across from it. Warren remained standing. He was no longer smiling, and he put down his bottle of beer and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes grew small and intent as he assumed the demeanor of an Israeli Mossad agent anticipating some act of terror. He hovered closely, still wearing that wise-guy smile.
“Thank you,” Allan said.
“So, what’s this about, Doctor Parker?” Demi asked.
“Well, as you know,” he began, offering his most successful bedside tone and smile, “we were fascinated by the wonderful reversal of your niece’s critical stage right after she received Taylor’s blood. You were kind enough to give us the sample.”
“Taylor gave the sample,” Demi corrected softly.
“We know all that. You paid for it. It was a done deal,” Warren added sharply.
“Of course. Anyway, I began an analysis here and intended to go forward with my research in Los Angeles.”
He hesitated, realizing he was about to reveal some serious medical procedural violations, but he was also confident that these people had no idea what was correct and what was not when it came to protocols and therapies.
“So?” Warren said. “Why are you back to see us? Why ain’tcha in Los Angeles?”
Allan didn’t look at him.
“I lost a patient about the same age as your niece two days ago, Mrs. Petersen. It gets me crazy when children die from some form of cancer or another. In the minds of most people, cancer remains a disease striking mainly older folks. People are living longer, so their susceptibility to various cancers grows greater.” Allan smiled. “Years ago, when people died at younger ages, there wasn’t as much cancer. It didn’t have a chance to strike because the body died before it could metastasize.”
He glanced at Warren, whose forehead was creased. Allan could see he was getting confused and overwhelmed. The man’s a simpleton, Allan thought, but he also warned himself not to say or do anything that would sound insulting or condescending. Like most ignoramuses, Warren had far more pride than justified. Ego appeared to grow in a direct correlation to stupidity.
Allan’s stomach was buzzing with bees. He had so little patience for this sort of man, but he knew instinctively that he had better not even suggest it.
“Stop snowing us. What the hell do you want?” Warren asked, dropping his arms and stepping closer. “Your money back?”
“Oh, no. Quite the contrary.” He looked at Demi to suggest she rein in Warren, but apparently she wasn’t at all upset with her boyfriend. In fact, she looked happy that he was being so aggressive. It drained Allan’s confidence.
“So what the hell is this?”
“I’m about to explain,” Allan said calmly. “I was impatient,” he continued, thinking he should admit to weakness and failings to show he was no different from them. “I didn’t want to wait for all the research, testing, etc., so I went ahead and gave the white blood cells from Taylor’s blood sample to another terminal cancer patient.”
He paused. It suddenly occurred to him that he was raising the value of Taylor’s blood, doing, in effect, Warren Moore’s work for him.
“And?” Warren asked.
“It appears to be helping,” he said, couching his words as carefully as some merchant trader. “I think there just might be something s
ignificant to discover here.”
Warren’s head bobbed.
“Only you’re out of Taylor’s blood, is that it?” he asked, beaming.
“Yes.”
“Figured,” Warren said, looking to Demi.
No shit, Dick Tracy, Allan wanted very much to say, but stifled the very thought of doing so.
“You want more of Taylor’s blood?” Demi asked quickly. She was afraid this was why he was coming to see them, but until this moment, she wouldn’t permit herself to say it, even to herself.
“Another sample…maybe, a typical blood donation,” Allan replied, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.
“Typical blood donation? You mean a pint?” Warren asked.
“I don’t want to keep coming back here, and we do need enough to do the research now. My hope is we’ll be able to duplicate the white blood cells and create…”
“A cure for cancer?” Demi finished for him, speaking in a little more than a whisper.
“Yes, exactly.”
“I still don’t understand why Taylor has this in his blood, this potential cure,” she said.
“I don’t know for sure, Mrs. Petersen, but as I previously suggested, it might have something to do with the dosage of radiation your husband was exposed to before Taylor was born. If I were to offer a conjecture…”
“A what?” Warren asked, brightening on the word offer.
“A guess.”
“Oh.”
“Some genetic change occurred and was passed on to him.”
“Because my husband never contacted any form of cancer even though he was exposed?”
“Well, I can’t be sure your husband’s natural genetic makeup was what was passed on to Taylor. Actually, there are a number of genetic formulas that might show us how this occurred, but that doesn’t matter at this point. I don’t want to get complicated and confuse you.”
Warren grunted.
“Taylor’s father had a heart attack,” Warren said.
“That’s a completely different set of circumstances, Mr. Moore.”
Warren thought a moment, twitching his nose like a rabbit. “Could the kid get a heart attack?”
Demi froze with fear.
Allan smiled and shook his head. “Very unlikely. Nothing remotely indicates such an event.”
“A pint, huh? What are you offering?” Warren asked, deciding it was time to cut to the chase.
Demi looked up at him. He gestured with the fingers of his left hand to indicate she should keep her mouth shut and remain still. Allan caught it.
“I can authorize…a payment of ten thousand dollars,” he said.
Warren’s eyes nearly exploded. Contrary to his reaction, however, Demi’s reaction to such a jump in price for her son’s blood sent a wave of terror through her body. She pressed her lips together and smothered a moan.
Warren grew more confident.
“To be completely honest, Doc, I spoke with a doctor today about what you’ve done already, so I ain’t completely surprised at what you’re saying or your being here,” Warren said. “He thought the only possibility was that the kid has some miraculous DAN, NAD or something. Now, from what you’re telling us, he could be the only one on the damn planet.”
“I couldn’t say,” Allan said, even though he feared that might very well be true.
“Ten thousand ain’t enough,” Warren said. “And don’t give us this hearts-and-flowers song about your patients and kids dying. You want to vampire the kid.”
“Hardly that,” Allan said, quickly turning back to Demi. “We’re…”
“It ain’t enough,” Warren said firmly.
“Well, what would be enough?” Allan asked. He was looking and dealing entirely with Warren now. He was afraid he would slip and slide into this trap, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
“Twenty thousand,” Warren said. However, before Allan could respond, out of fear he had undersold Taylor’s blood, he corrected himself and said, “No, twenty-five thousand. I know you research guys got your hands on lots of donations from very wealthy people, so don’t give us any stories about working on a budget. Hell, we should probably ask for fifty thousand,” he threatened.
“I understand,” Allan said. Now it was his turn to posture. “I have authorization to offer only so much. To raise the offer, I have to return To my superiors and convince them of the importance and value of the risk. You don’t know how hard it is to deal with bureaucrats,” he added, smiling, “even with something like this. There are many, many doctors and scientists out there with their own theories and experiments, all competing for the same dollars. It could take me a while, maybe quite a while before I get permission to offer much more,” he added. “And there’s always the possibility they’ll deny it, and we’d be back to day one.”
Warren looked sufficiently snowed. He twisted his lips and looked from Demi to Allan.
“Well, what’s your best immediate offer?” he asked.
“I can do fifteen thousand immediately,” Allan said. He saw disappointment flood into Warren’s face. “Perhaps, if I throw in something of my own, I can raise it to twenty.”
Warren bought it. His aggressiveness weakened, but he didn’t like giving in too quickly.
“You come back to us after this, you’d better have fifty thousand in your pocket,” Warren warned.
“Oh, if I come back, it will be justified. I assure you,” Allan said.
Warren smiled. That was practically a guarantee of a significant raise.
“Well, we want to do something to help beat the shit out of cancer, right, Demi?”
“Who else knows about this, Doctor Parker?” she asked, ignoring Warren.
“On my end, only Doctor Weber. Of course your sister and brother-in-law know something significant occurred, but we didn’t know enough to tell them anything. However,” he said, pausing and looking at Warren indignantly, “Mr. Moore just told us he spoke about this to another doctor.”
Demi spun on Warren.
“Who?”
“Oh, nobody important…that quack out in Indio, Edwards, the one who writes up the workman’s comp stuff. It went in one ear and out the other, and he doesn’t know me anyway. I went with a friend who was getting his workman’s comp jacked up. I never mentioned Taylor,” he added, lying. “The guy was bored and he didn’t believe me or know very much anyway so I dropped it,” he added.
Demi shook her head.
“It all makes me very nervous.” She looked up at Allan quickly. “What does this other cancer patient know, the one you just gave Taylor’s white cells?”
“Actually, nothing,” Allan said.
“Nothing? I don’t understand. He’s improved. How can he know nothing?”
“He doesn’t know what he was given. He wasn’t conscious when I gave it to him,” Allan confessed.
Demi’s eyebrows moved toward each other. Allan knew she was quite a bit brighter than her boyfriend.
“What about his family, his regular doctor?”
“My friend Joe Weber is his doctor, too, but the family knows nothing about Taylor, about the procedure.”
“You did it this without any of them being told? Is that…legal?”
“Many patients in terminal states are given experimental therapies not yet approved,” he replied without actually answering her question. “There was nothing else possible to do for the patient.”
“I don’t know,” Demi muttered. “I don’t know. We need to think about it all now, Doctor Parker.”
“What’s there to think about?” Warren asked, disappointed.
She just looked at him.
He’s driving her away with his greed, Allan thought, making her even more frightened.
“Oh, I understand, Mrs. Petersen. You give it some thought. I assure you I’ll do what I did before and keep it all quite simple and discreet.”
She stared at him. The expression on her face did make him feel like a vampire.
“I’m on
ly trying to do something wonderful for children like your niece,” he said, reverting back to that in hopes of appealing to her sense of empathy. “You can’t imagine what it’s like to have patient after patient like your niece and watch them die.”
Suddenly Taylor came to the living room doorway. He stood there with his hands in his pockets. Everyone turned to look at him, but no one spoke.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Tell him, Doc,” Warren said. “Let’s find out right now if he’s afraid or not.”
“Afraid of what?” Taylor demanded instantly.
Allan saw Warren’s lips crease into a knowing smile. He would play on the boy rather than his mother, and he appeared to know that Taylor did not like being thought cowardly.
“Go on, Doc. Tell him.”
“Warren,” Demi said.
“What? All of a sudden the genius is supposed to be kept in the dark? He knew more about all this than either of us. The kid would rather spend time with his computer than a girl,” he told Allan. “Hey,” he added as a new thought crossed his brow, “do you think that this has made him…turned him gay?”
“Warren!” Demi cried.
“I’m just asking, for chrissakes.”
“What is it, Mom? Is it something to do with Jodi?”
Demi sighed and looked at Allan. She nodded softly to give him permission.
“No, no. She’s fine. However, I believe there is something significant about your blood after all, Taylor,” Allan said.
“I always felt it was pretty significant for me to have blood,” Taylor quipped.
“Don’t be a wise guy,” Warren snapped.
“That’s okay,” Allan said, smiling at Taylor.
“How do you know all this so quickly?” Taylor asked. “I thought research takes lots of time and then things have to be approved.”
“I made an executive decision and used your white blood cells on a second cancer patient.”
“What happened?”
“He’s…improved.”
Taylor looked neither frightened nor proud. He looked more thoughtful than anything.
“There’s something going on in your system, some unique combination of DNA that’s creating this therapy,” Allan offered.
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