“Dr. Haynes, will I be meeting with you and Dr. Morgan for a follow-up?” Dr. David Reed, wearing a black tie and blue-collared shirt under his white coat, stood before her. “I’m looking forward to duking it out with Mr. Murray in the IRB revenge bout.”
She tried to grin to match the expression on his face, but she couldn’t peel her thoughts away from the Wrights and the blood samples calling her name. “I think Chris and I need time to strategize and reexamine our protocol.”
“You and Morgan have a solid case,” he said. “Really, I think a little schmoozing with Murray is all we need, and I need your consent to bring the protocol back up at our next committee meeting before I can do that.”
“I understand, but we’ve both got a lot on our plates. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to hold off a week or two before resubmitting the study.”
“I’m not sure I’d agree with that assessment. As they say, you should strike when the iron’s hot.”
“Maybe our definitions of hot are different,” Robin said. “When you’ve got a nonaffiliated IRB rep staunchly against your proposal, it doesn’t sound like a done deal to me at all.”
“Whatever you say,” Dr. Reed held his hands up. “But you’ve got me in your corner of the ring and I’m ready to fight for it.”
“I appreciate it, but I’ve got more pressing concerns.” Like the Wrights. “So, you’ll have to excuse me while I go take care of my patients.”
She left David and headed down toward the Wrights’ room. A hand grabbed her shoulder and she spun. “David, please—”
But the man in the white coat was not David. He had combed-back blond hair and what appeared to be a few days’ worth of stubble lining his jaw. Creases lined his brow, and his lips were pursed. “Dr. Haynes, right?”
She nodded.
“You had a CJD case last night, right?”
She started to nod again but stopped. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Sorry,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Steven Tanner from nephrology.”
Robin didn’t know many of the kidney specialists at the University of Maryland Medical Center. Spending most of her time in the pediatric oncology unit, she didn’t run into many other clinicians unless she collaborated with them on a case. At first, she was surprised one of the nephrologists would’ve heard about Nancy’s and Jacob’s cases. But she had recruited the hospital administration into the witch hunt to find the cause of the disease in her patients, and word could have spread from Sam to the other nurses. “I am. Why?”
“I had a patient, three months old, with chronic kidney failure. Genetic defect. That’s beside the point.” He took a deep breath. “Kid had a seizure, and parents told me it was normal. Their pediatrician told them it happens every once in a while with fevers.”
Robin recalled her initial suspicion that Jacob had suffered from a febrile seizure. She’d quickly ruled it out when the MRI tech showed her the brain scan full of amyloid plaques. Besides, febrile seizures were rare. One might not be cause for alarm. But multiple seizures? “I assume you didn’t take the pediatrician’s word those seizures were normal.”
“Right. I called in an MRI tech, and the kid’s brain was riddled with plaques.”
“Did you start him on Styryldine?”
“Of course.”
Then she remembered Jacob hadn’t been the only one needing the medicine. “Did you check his parents?”
Tanner nodded and spoke in a lowered voice. “The mother demonstrated the same symptoms.”
“But the father was clean?”
“Yes!”
Robin pulled a hand through her hair and let out a slow breath. “So I’m assuming they’re on the road to recovery. What did you need from me?”
“I want to know why.”
“That makes two of us.”
***
An hour later, she had blood samples from both the infant and the mother Dr. Tanner had treated. He stood by her side, and she started up the genetic sequencer and the blood screening device. The machines buzzed to life as she loaded the samples.
Neither spoke as they waited for the droning to stop. The holoscreen of the sequencer popped up first with a condensed list of the genes found in Tanner’s patients’ cells. To ensure the prion infection wasn’t linked to any hereditary traits, Robin ran the data through a bioinformatics database to identify any potential genetic defects or genetically based diseases.
None of the genes representing potentially inherited disease indicated a risk for prion infection.
“I assume you saw similar results in your patients?” Tanner asked.
“I did.” In her mind’s eyes, she pictured the data stored on the lab’s computer and the samples in the freezer. “We can compare the data between my patients and yours to see if it clears anything up.”
A hologram projected in the air above the blood screening device. It showed a spherical object identified as a foreign material. Robin gasped, her heart fluttering. “That’s it. That’s the same delivery vector I saw in my patients.”
Two of the lab techs glanced in her direction, and she lowered her voice.
“See?” She pointed to the hologram. “It’s empty. It already delivered its contents. This type of vector is commonly seen in genetic enhancements. But I’ll bet if you look at both your patients’ medical records, you’ll see any tissue sample you took from them will show you they don’t have any differences in their cells’ genomes.”
“Meaning they didn’t actually take any genetic enhancements.”
“Right!”
Tanner’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “So you think the prion disease is linked to whatever these vectors delivered to these patients?”
“It seems like the obvious answer. My patients had no idea how something like this showed up in their bloodstream. I’m betting yours won’t know, either.”
Tanner’s shoulders sagged. She could see he understood the implications of vectors like these in his patients’ blood. “But since these are used in enhancements, I have to report the parents to CPS for negligible contraband use, don’t I?”
“Yes.” Robin scowled, picturing Jacob Wright being taken from his mother and father. “Which makes figuring out how these got into our patients even more important. Can you ask your patients to write out a list of everything the mother has consumed—diet pills, drugs, pharmaceuticals, food, drinks, whatever. If we can compare that to my patients’ list, maybe we can identify a common denominator.”
“If we’re lucky. This sounds like it could be a fool’s errand.”
“It won’t seem like a fool’s errand to parents whose children might be taken away due to false charges.” When that didn’t faze him, she added, “Or to us if we lose our jobs because we chose to conceal these findings from CPS, and the hospital board finds out we’re breaking the law by doing so.”
His ears perked up. “You’re right. Meet you in half an hour?”
“Sounds good,” Robin said, turning back to the blood screening device. Tanner’s footsteps faded as he jogged out into the hallway. She scrolled through the other files stored in the patient databases. She looked for the models she’d created the night before from Jacob and Nancy Wright’s blood. If the delivery vector she found in Tanner’s patient matched the one found in the Wrights, then she suspected she was in the midst of a conspiracy.
The similarities between the two cases were already striking. Infants, both younger than one year, afflicted with CJD. Both mothers showed similar progression of the brain plaques, and neither of the fathers suffered from the disease.
Not to mention, both cases had been identified within a day of each other.
She squinted at the list on the holodisplay. No patient files matching Jacob or Nancy Wright appeared. Had she accidentally deleted them to cover her tracks when she smuggled the data out? She had been running on minimal sleep, so it didn’t seem too unlikely that she’d made a mistake.
Maybe she’d mislabeled
the files.
Taking a second and third look, she couldn’t find the appropriate computer models of the delivery vector to compare with those found in Tanner’s patients. At least she still had the blood samples. It would take a few minutes, but she could run the experiments again and generate a new model.
She walked to the freezer and opened the door. Covered in frost, columns of metal drawers took up the interior. She pulled out the one in which she’d deposited the plastic vials with test samples from the Wrights. Her fingers growing cold, she scoured through the vials arranged in neat rows. The space where she’d expected to find her two targets lay empty.
A tingle of paranoia crept through her, and she shivered. She stole a furtive glance around to see if anyone watched her, if any of the techs might be gauging her reaction after they’d sabotaged her data.
But no one looked up from their cell culture trays or microscopes.
After closing the freezer, she opened a computer to access a database logging where all medical samples had been stored. She searched for the Wrights’ files again but didn’t find evidence blood vials from them had been recorded anywhere in the hospital the previous night.
She looked around the lab, half expecting someone to jump up and tell her it was all a mad prank, a practical joke to make her think she was going crazy.
She considered saving the data from Tanner’s patient to the temporary comm card she’d purchased from a convenience store earlier. But she couldn’t easily transfer the data without one of the techs noticing. Best-case scenario, she would have to wait until late in the night, when almost all the techs were off.
In her mind’s eye, she pictured the ticking hands of a clock as her choice loomed nearer: report the Wrights to Child Protection Services or risk losing her job. For a moment, she considered not reporting her findings of potential illegal genetic enhancement vectors in Nancy and her son. Maybe she wouldn’t lose her medical license or be charged for failure to report. After all, the incriminating data had apparently been wiped.
Of course, Sam already knew, and others on the pediatric oncology ward would’ve found out through the grapevine. Not to mention if anyone else performed blood work on either of the Wrights, they too would find the empty delivery vectors and wonder why Robin ignored them.
She needed to confirm the match between Tanner’s patients and her own to prove it might not be the parents’ fault. Once Tanner got back to her with the list of items his patient had consumed, they might find a contaminated food or medicine source containing the same delivery vectors. It was a long shot, but it was the only one she could take—and it might buy her enough time to delay any CPS proceedings. Demonstrating the vectors in Tanner’s and her patients came from a contaminant could exculpate both sets of parents.
And to do so, she needed another sample of Nancy and Jacob Wright’s blood.
When she jogged from the room, a couple of lab techs stared daggers at her as if she were intruding on their solemn laboratory duties. She narrowly avoided crashing into an autobot delivering fresh linens to a patient’s room as she dashed down the hall.
Skidding to a stop in front of the Wrights’ room, she knocked on the open door and entered.
The bed, the chairs all lay empty. She rapped on the bathroom door, but it too swung open to reveal walls cloaked in shadows. At first, she figured they’d gone to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat now that Jacob was recovering.
But no hologram medical charts shone when she tried to access the port at the foot of the bed. The flowers, plush toys, and cards once resting on the ledge near the window had disappeared.
Confused, Robin walked back out to the hallway and to the nurse’s station. “Were the Wrights moved?”
The nurse behind the desk looked up. “Not an even an ‘excuse me’ or ‘hello.’”
“Sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Robin gritted her teeth.
The nurse rolled her eyes as she gestured to the holoscreen before her. “Looks like they were released a few hours ago.”
“What? That’s impossible. I didn’t release them.”
“No, you didn’t. Dr. Naylor did.”
Robin started to walk away, pulling out her comm card.
“Thank you,” the nurse said.
“Sorry?” Robin spun around.
“No apologies necessary. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to yell at the nurse, wanted to scream that this was an emergency. With a deep breath, she pushed back her anger. She understood the woman’s point of view, as she’d watched so many other doctors walk all over the nurses without so much as an indication these individuals were any more human than the bots or computers throughout the hospital. “I do appreciate your help.”
She had already imported her contacts onto her new temporary comm card and selected Naylor’s ID. The more she thought about how he’d discharged her patients, the angrier she became. It made no sense that another doctor would tell her patients they were okay to go home, especially given the treatment regimen Jacob had been on for both the leukemia and the CJD.
“Hello?” Naylor answered.
“Why the hell did you discharge my patients?”
The line went silent for a moment. “Robin?”
“Why did you tell my patients they could go home?”
“You told me to.”
Chapter 19
Robin said nothing as she repeated Dr. Brian Naylor’s words in her head. You told me to.
But she hadn’t. She was sure of it. Unless she’d called him in some kind of delirious sleep walking during the brief nap she took before coming back to the hospital, she hadn’t uttered a word to the man.
“I was gone this morning,” she said, unable to restrain the frustration building within her. An orderly striding by gave her a questioning look, and she spoke in a lowered voice, willing herself to sound more calm. “And I know I haven’t spoken to you since—what, yesterday?”
“I got an intranet secured request message signing off on the release, allowing me to discharge your patients.” He paused for a moment. “It was at nine forty-five this morning.”
Such a message would have originated from within the hospital’s communication systems to protect the security of both doctors and patients. It could not be sent via a personal comm card, much less an unsecured card she had bought at a convenience store to replace her permanent one. “Impossible.”
“I’m staring at it now.”
“I wasn’t at the hospital at nine forty-five. I’m not sure how this happened.”
“I did what I was told. The patient’s charts even looked good. All signs pointed toward his release. I mean, I personally would’ve kept the boy and his mom another day for observations, but I figured you knew better than I did.”
“No, you’re right. I planned on the boy staying another day to ensure he’d fully recovered from the CJD before releasing him.” She brushed a hand through her hair. The Wrights were likely in good enough health to go home, but she never discharged patients without a final goodbye and checkup. She knew she had not sent the message. “What the hell is going on?”
“If there’s an issue with the intranet comm system, it needs to be reported.”
“Right. I’ll take care of it.” She hung up but wasn’t convinced the system itself was at fault for the patient release order. Such a convenient screw-up exhibited the markings of a saboteur, someone trying to derail her investigation into the Wrights’ medical case. A shiver snuck down her spine as she peered back and forth down the hallway as nurses, doctors, patients, and autobots snaked through the corridor.
First the mugging, then the disappearing samples in the lab, and now patients released without her consent. She needed to make her rounds on the floor, but thoughts of someone disrupting her efforts to identify the source of the delivery vectors and the prion infections clouded her mind.
She escaped the busyness of the halls and entered the conference room where she’d
met with Chris and David Reed more than a day ago to discuss their IRB prospects for the HDXT.
Placing her comm card on the conference table, she waved a hand over it to open a blank writing application. She scribbled notes of the recent events, everything she could recall about the Wrights’ blood samples, and all the suspicious activities taking place since.
Her pulse quickened as a realization dawned over her. For someone to have known when she had left the medical center to orchestrate the mugging, to sabotage the samples within the lab, and to send a message over the intranet releasing her patients, that person must have intimate access to the hospital.
She wanted to believe the University of Maryland Medical Center employed only people interested in saving lives and helping others, all the doctors, nurses, orderlies, janitors, cafeteria workers...everyone shared a part in the concerted effort of running an establishment with the primary goal of improving human health.
But she was not naïve enough to believe everyone held the same idealistic attitude toward patient welfare and the sanctity of the hospital as she upheld. Still, maybe someone could have access to the hospital, could know their way around, and not work here.
She pictured Conrad Murray’s rotund stomach, the wisps of his comb-over, and his bulbous nose. He worked across the street; he knew the hospital; he had access that most individuals outside of employees never did because of his affiliation with the Institutional Review Board.
She shuddered, trying to convince herself she was wrong. Jordan had said it would make more sense for Murray to be supportive of her and Chris’s efforts if the man was involved in illegal genetic enhancements.
Maybe the Wrights’ case had nothing to do with enhancements. Maybe there was something else going on in the dark world of biotechnology abuse.
For a moment, she considered calling the Wrights, telling them there was a mistake and they should head back to the Medical Center. But the confusion could compromise the trust she had cultivated with the family. Besides, if she needed to report them later that evening, she wanted them to enjoy each other’s company one last time. Hell, maybe they knew what was coming; maybe they were making a run for it, trying to extend the time they shared as a family before CPS came knocking on their door.
The Black Market DNA Series: Books 1-3 Page 62