by KH LeMoyne
“I am glad we will be together on this protocol.” Sheri looked around to ensure no one was within range of their conversation. “I look forward to the opportunity to exchange insights with you, or perhaps just lunch?”
Briet gave a smile and bit the inside of her cheek. Physician exchanges of their results during the treatments were discouraged. She and Sheri knew each other well enough to follow their best instincts, even if it didn’t correlate with Welson Labs’ preferred rules of engagement. She stepped into the open elevator and turned back. “I am always up to breaking bread with you. Call me.”
***
Jason watched from the back of the elevator as the number illuminated for each floor. When the doors slid open for the oncology ward, the pixie-sized blonde doctor moved onto the floor with brisk determination. He pushed to stay next to her and matched her stride as she moved through the crowded hall. “Dr. Hyden.”
She flashed a look his way, but didn’t bother maintaining contact or slowing down. “Mr. Ballard.”
“I wonder if I could speak with you.”
She stopped short. He had to pivot not to lose her in the traffic of visitors, nurses, and support staff. “What would we have to discuss, Mr. Ballard?”
Feisty. The trials hadn’t started yet and Dr. Briet Hyden had assigned him the role of villain. “Please, call me Jason since we’re going to be working together over the next few months.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Jason. I don’t really see you and I having much contact based on Dr. Sanyu’s outline. Unless you plan to take blood, administer the protocol, or perhaps deal with parents regarding symptoms and reactions? Of course, we may see each other more if the protocol does not produce results.”
He did smile then. This woman barely reached his shoulder and she was ready to take on the whole establishment for her patients—including him. He didn’t want her for an enemy. “Dr. Hyden, it’s my job to ensure the protocol is the most successful it can be. I’d rather have an open avenue of communication than battle lines.”
She crossed her arms, gave him a full minute of scrutiny, then finally let out a breath. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ballard?”
“I was hoping I could…” He lifted a hand. “Perhaps buy you a cup of coffee and share some of your expectations for the trials. Establish a rapport.”
There went her eyebrow again. What had he done to set her off now? “I don’t drink coffee and I’m going to be very busy.”
“Tea then? Or spring water. I’m not asking for a lifetime, just a moment here or there in your day over the next several months.” He held open his hands. “You never know. I might actually be able to help with something you need at some point. I’m only asking for a fair chance.”
She looked dubious. He’d purposefully appealed to her instincts for honesty and fairness. Those instincts radiated from her like sweetness and sunshine from the top of her blond, spiked hair to the smallest shit kicker boots he’d ever seen. Then she gave him a hint of a smile that almost bowled him over.
“I can be fair. A tea now and then could hardly take much time.” She fixed big brown eyes on his face and raised her finger in warning. “But I don’t want Welson people following me around all day.”
He waved a hand aside to dispel her concern. “You got it. Just me, just tea. I won’t eat up your day or step on your toes. I promise.”
She nodded and looked pointedly over his shoulder toward her original direction. He stepped back and waved her through with a smile. Her response was a wary look, followed by a hint of humor, and a nod of thanks.
He watched her until she turned from sight at the end of the hallway. That little spitfire was either going to make or break the test trials. He’d seen it in the determination on her face during the meeting. She wasn’t pleased with the decision to sacrifice a group for the purity of the results. Frankly, he wasn’t either, and while he hadn’t given up on producing another option, he was here to do a job. He was going to keep a close eye on her. A woman determined to keep her kids alive would be on top of every nuance in the testing.
She would be the ticket to the project’s success.
Whether she intended it or not.
CHAPTER 3
Briet watched Sheri slide into her seat at the table. With a loud exhale, her friend swiped a few stray blonde hairs behind her ear.
“Tough day?”
Sheri waved away the question with her hand. “Sorry to be late. It took me forever to get a cab. Then the traffic…”
“Thought you had an expensive little hybrid, with the wonderful gas mileage and—”
“Don’t start. That beautiful little monster is in bits and pieces at the shop. It’ll be weeks before I sit on the cushy leather seat and chat with my computer on my way to work.”
Briet pressed her lips together and held back a smile as Sheri shook her head again.
“Let’s talk about the project because I’ve got to get back for a one-fifteen meeting.”
Briet looked at her watch, twelve-thirty. She raised two fingers to the waiter as he started to head over, alerting him to double her order. He nodded, pivoted, and ducked back through the swinging kitchen doors.
“You get what I’m having.”
Sheri gave a quick shrug. “Spill what you’ve learned. Because I know you have something.”
Briet had only opened her mouth to speak, but Sheri cut her off with a tap of her nail on the table.
“If it were anyone else I’d be skeptical. I mean it’s been only ten days—but you, you have this incredible track record with your patients.”
Briet nodded slowly. Yes, a track record. Six clinical trials and all of her patients had survived, regardless of whether they received the tested drugs or not. If there were more of her to go around, she’d like to think there would be fewer children suffering through these trials. However, her personal attention wasn’t a cure.
“I’m glad they at least reconsidered having one control group and interspersed one patient to receive a placebo per team.”
Sheri nodded. “It’s only fair we each deal with the same risk instead of one team having the entire burden.”
Perhaps, but Briet would have been happier with a standard protocol instead of a placebo. “Given at least one of my patients would receive the placebo, I’d expect to see one with a normal progression of the cancer. Even an increase or decrease in resistance of the immune system, and a number of standard secondary effects. I’ve seen nothing like that.”
“Nothing shouldn’t be alarming.” Sheri leaned back and waited until the waiter placed spinach salads before each of them and left.
“Granted, but I also expected a boost for the immune system results in the others. It’s not what my tests results show.”
The fork stopped half way to Sheri’s mouth. She leaned closer as her gaze darted around the half-empty restaurant. “You’ve taken your own samples.”
A statement, not a question. Sheri knew exactly what she’d done. Briet took a breath and nodded.
Sheri hesitated and looked away as if assessing her answer, and then turned back with a shrug. “The results in the lab are accessible to all of us. Why not use those instead of duplicating effort?”
“My results are coming out a little differently than what’s on file.”
The fork clinked to the plate. Sheri folded her hands with her elbows braced on the table, chin propped on her knuckles, and narrowed her eyes. Briet felt like a canary.
“How different?”
“The drug is supposed to bolster the immune system, introduce an agent to bond with the blood cells so the cancer will ingest it, and then the result eradicates the diseased cells.”
Sheri leaned closer. “I’m aware of the protocol’s process. Just move to your point.” Her frown knit her brows tighter.
Briet knew her friend well enough to detect impatience, not annoyance. “The drug appears to reduce the cancer cells, the immune system boost is nonexistent…and I’m seeing minor deteri
oration in the thyroid and spleen.”
“Why do you say appears? Wouldn’t the deterioration be showing up in the results from other patients? We would have had an immediate briefing.”
“The samples being collected don’t include thyroid and spleen. They only reflect the designated blood work for the protocol.” Briet bit the inside of her cheek.
“But you’ve taken more samples. Like what specifically?”
She left out a quick breath. “Muscle tissue, urine tests for specific kidney function.”
“The parents approved you doing more tests?” Sheri’s voice remained low but terse. “If Welson finds out you’re doing your own tests you could jeopardize your patients’ viability for the study.”
“I have the parents' authorization. The testing I’ve been doing isn’t invasive and it doesn’t affect the protocol. I have the right to address my patients’ needs beyond the scope of the designated procedures. Right now, the study’s not providing enough visibility to detect other problems.”
Sheri nodded and pursed her lips in agreement. “What’s your hypothesis? Start with what’s worrying you.”
“I’m concerned that the Welson drug only puts the cancer into stasis. It mimics recovery because the growth stops, the patient appears better, but in fact, the cancer may have actually mutated. I can’t rule out that the original cancer might have the potential to become active once the drug’s stopped.”
“But they ran preliminary studies. Given the time lapse between those early results and now, any resurgence of the cancer cells, even in preliminary animal studies, should be apparent.”
Briet shrugged and moved her spinach around her plate. It wasn't as if she could admit to her colleague that she saw the cancer metastasized in another part of her patients’ bodies. Human beings needed proof. Proof took time.
“Perhaps they don’t know. Or perhaps they do and it’s buying them time. Maybe they’re close to finishing the drug they should be testing and don’t want to admit it’s not ready yet.”
“These patients would become dependent on this product, physically and financially.” Sheri raised a brow and moved her water glass in a circle, expanding the condensation into a larger puddle on the table.
“I’m not talking about financial blackmail. This is a small study. Frankly, the number of patients affected in the entire country wouldn’t generate a large windfall for Welson. I don’t suspect financial gain.”
“You’ve seen this in all your patients? You have one that has to have the placebo.”
“It’s only been ten days. My tests show consistency between all my patients. To be fair, I don’t know what may change over the entire three month period.”
Sheri’s nails rapped one at a time on the table as she glanced out the window. With a quick look back, she stared at Briet. “You want my patients’ results as well.”
“It would be helpful.”
“And also rule out some bias for your test group.” Sheri let out another forceful exhale. “Fine, how do we do this?”
“I gather the urine and muscle tissue samples from my patients,” she said as Sheri’s mouth pinched. “It’s just a prick, and all of my patients are now trained with deep meditation. They feel nothing.”
“You’ve just ratcheted up my workload here. I’ll talk to the parents, even do the urine samples, but the muscle tissue will have to wait.”
Briet nodded. “Appreciate it. I can’t make this easier, but I can offer an option to help another part of your day.”
“Oh, my dear friend, please anything,” Sheri purred as she picked up her fork again and pushed aside the spinach for chunks of blue cheese and chicken.
“You can take my SUV until you get yours back.” Briet held up a hand as her friend started to protest. “I’m staying in town, one stop on the subway from the hospital. I know it doesn’t measure up to your baby but mine does have leather seats. Besides, it will only sit for the next three months in the hospital garage.” She laughed. “And you can talk to it all you want. Just don’t expect it to say anything back.”
Sheri responded with a wicked smile. “Your RX330? I think that is too generous, but I’ll take it.”
“It needs to be driven.” She never used the car anyway. Given her ability to transport, to fold space and travel anywhere she could visualize with a quick thought, a car was a needless encumbrance. As long as no one saw her disappear or reappear, folding beat the cost of gas and hectic traffic any day of the week. “We can head back together and I’ll give you the keys. The parking sticker’s already on the bumper.”
“Deal.” Sheri reached to shake across the table.
CHAPTER 4
Mia heard the growl and the measured steps down the long stone hallway of the Sanctum before Ansgar marched through the open doors of her study.
She kept her head hunched over the myriad papers spread across a large polished oak table, shuffling through notes with her left hand. One tiny nod to acknowledge his presence, and she turned back to the illumination of black lettering on a gold background suspended in the air. A flick of her fingers and the letters spun quickly upward, like a wheel in motion until she tapped again. A fresh screen of information slowed to a halt.
He pulled out a chair beside her, turned it around to straddle the seat and waited.
Her finger highlighted names and words, and with a tap activated a tag for information retrieval in the Archives. Little by little, she was sorting through requests from the other Guardians to search for backgrounds on their families, or any trace that one of them might still be alive.
From the way Ansgar glared at the compact black rectangle squashed in his hand, she had no doubt he was here about family as well. He wouldn’t find answers in the Archives.
“Problems with reception?” Mia glanced at him. She stifled a laugh at the look of disgust he was giving the cell phone in his hand. He was touchy enough about Briet openly interacting in human civilization without her pushing his buttons.
“I can’t get her to answer.”
His lips turned into a tight thin line and his brows furrowed so close together they became one thick row. A threatening sight when combined with the thick blond hair pulled into one long braid down his back. He looked every bit a fierce invader. Mia marveled at the genetic process that modeled each of the Guardians after distinct examples of the human spectrum.
“Would you like me to try?”
He nodded.
She accepted the phone and checked back through his sent calls. Briet’s cell number repeated ten times in the last two days. When she glanced up, his heated gaze remained fixed on the phone. “I’ll try again, but the calls are going out. You even have other messages.”
That got a look.
“One from your service provider.” She pursed her lips to keep from laughing at his wince. “One from Tsu—a text message. They’ve located a site for his sister’s homestead. Interesting word for a safe house.”
“Nothing else?”
“How about I send her a text? If she’s in a meeting or something she’ll know to call you back.”
“She already knows to call me back.” He closed his eyes for a second. “Sorry. I would appreciate whatever you can do. Can’t get my fingers to work on those tiny keys anyway. She never answers the blasted phone. I bet she left it somewhere.”
Mia bit her lip. He was probably right. Briet, while brilliant, had a tendency to be a little haphazard with the mundane things in life. Like checking in and letting people know she was still alive.
“Maybe you should just drop by and see her.”
“She’ll think I don’t trust her.”
He growled those words and a slow rumble reverberated outside the window of the study. Mia glanced out the window at the gathering storm and back at Ansgar. He hardly looked remorseful. His power over water had dumped more than one torrential downpour on the gardens since she’d lived here, but she supposed it was better than him literally letting off steam inside the Sanc
tum. Fine droplets of mist gathered in the air between them and she dispelled the moisture with a quick wave of her hand.
“Sorry.” Ansgar shrugged. His mood hadn’t improved, but at least the liquid evaporated.
Mia smiled. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with showing up. Drop in for lunch. It’s the middle of the day. It’s not like you’re interrupting a date or something.”
Oops. She tucked in on herself as the thunderous look returned to his face. He grabbed the phone back from her with another unintelligible grumble. Fortunately, he was gone before Mia doubled over with laughter.
CHAPTER 5
“Why don’t you get a table? I’ll handle this.” Jason gestured Briet toward the far side of the café away from the thick crowd of people clustered around the barista’s counter. He waited patiently and glanced down at his leg as a pressure brushed again his pants.
Correction—a body.
The little girl couldn’t be more than four and had one fist gripped tight in her mother’s hand. The other, clenched in the folds of his pants. Jason glanced at the mother, but she was busy placing an order, trying to get a plain cup of milk on the side to go with her coffee.
Jason felt a push from behind. He shot a pointed look over his shoulder and shifted a hand down to brace the girl against the people who couldn’t see her.
A cup joined several others waiting to be claimed on the countertop. Steam swirled from one plain black coffee and two fragrant fruit teas. “Double mocha latte, no cream.”
“That’s me.” A woman pushed by Jason’s shoulder and grasped the latte, yanking back heedless of the other cups in the way.
“Watch—” It was all Jason got out before the two scalding cups tipped. Liquid steam sliced across the counter top, for a split second suspended, an amber shine in the air. Instinct told him to move.
No time.
No room.
Jason jerked his hand from the behind the child’s back to cover her head and face in an effort to shove her behind his leg. He caught the mother’s expression as her eyes widened. Her mouth opened in a piercing cry. It seemed to take forever before the burning hot liquid coated his hand. Searing heat exploded as the tea splashed to the floor.