Richard laughed. “The stock market thrives on rumor. Since they can’t prove that we’re responsible, I’ll cry all the way to the bank.”
“What do you want me to do, Richard?”
“First, it’s time to get our patent attorneys involved. This is our vaccine and we must protect our interest in it. Second, just keep up the good work. If the study results continue to be so amazing, I think you’ll find that we’ll be justified in making it public.”
“I agree. I think that our data will demand FDA ‘fast-track’ approval.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
An hour later, in the south end of the thirty-seventh floor, Woody Hawkins, Eddie Macy, and Richard Kendall were on the phone with Karl Muller.
“It’s good to talk with you gentlemen,” Karl said. “Tell me who’s listening in?”
Richard placed his index finger across his lips.
“It’s Eddie and I.”
“Good morning, Karl,” Eddie said.
“Do you want the good news first or the bad?” Karl asked.
“The good,” Woody said.
“It’s hard to believe you don’t know by now, but the study results with the BCG vaccination are better than anyone anticipated. You guys got a winner on your hands.”
“We’re waiting,” Eddie said.
“The little problem we had with Lisa Gomez is back. Part of it is my fault for not getting her emails, but the rest is bad luck. Lisa put a copy of her emails and the video of the mice on a flash drive.”
“Where is it?” Eddie asked.
“Dr. Terri Powell has it. She’s the study’s primary investigator at San Francisco General.”
“What is she doing with it?”
“I don’t know,” Karl said. “More to the point, gentlemen, what do you want me to do about it?”
“I’m not sure you can do anything for us, Karl,” Woody said. “We need a bit more subtlety than you can provide.”
“Well, thank you gentlemen. I’ll get back to work.”
Richard Kendall signaled that they put Karl on hold.
“Hold on a minute, Karl,” Woody said, “I’m putting you on hold.”
“You can call me back.”
“Just hold for a minute, damn it.”
After Woody pushed the hold button, Richard said, “Do you trust him?”
“Trust him to keep his mouth closed or to do a good job for us?” Eddie asked.
“Will he keep it shut?”
“Yes,” Woody said. “He’s got too much to lose.”
“Let’s encourage him to deal with the situation,” Richard said. “Hopefully, he’ll do better this time. I know a specialist in San Francisco. We only know him as Mr. Brooks. He’s worked for me in the past. I’ll ask him to monitor Karl’s efforts with Dr. Powell. He’ll insure that we eliminate Terri Powell as a threat, and second, he’ll deal with our good friend Karl Muller whose liabilities outweigh his assets for us.”
When Richard returned to his office, his secretary said, “Mr. Kendall senior would like to see you.”
“I was just about to call you, Rickey,” Lionel said.
“You go first,” Richard said.
“I think our problems are over. The PAT study in San Francisco is producing fantastic results. If this continues, we’re home free.”
“We may have a problem, father. That’s why I wanted to see you.”
“Shit, don’t give me bad news, Ricky. Something’s got to come out of those studies or we’re dead. Kendall may not survive.”
“The study results are preliminary and we may have problems with one of our investigators.”
“What kind of problems?” he stopped. “I think I’ve heard enough, Richard. I want you to deal with this. I trust your judgment.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Two weeks after Lisa’s death, David Birch came into the lab.
Evan sat over his scanning microscope studying the Petri dish filled with bacteria.
“How’s it going, Evan?”
“I need help, David. Lisa was a full partner in the BCG study. I can’t do my work and hers too.”
“We’ll get somebody to replace her, but that will take time. In the meanwhile, I’ll add two experienced technicians to your staff.”
“Lisa wasn’t doing tech. work, so that won’t help much.”
“I’m sorry, Evan, but I need you to take over Lisa’s liaison function with Terri Powell and the San Francisco General study.”
“That’s crap, David. You do it.”
“I’m too busy.”
Evan slid off his lab chair. “I have many talents, but I’m hardly a people person. Walk in my small shoes around a place like San Francisco General and you’ll understand why I prefer my lab.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m used to the stares and the insults, but nobody can tolerate the physical abuse. Tell me how you’d like some goon pushing, punching, kicking, hanging you up on a hook, and the other creative assaults by sick minds. If you’re a freak, people think they can do anything to you.”
“I’m sorry. I need you to do this, at least for a while. I’ll send one of our beefy technicians to go with you.”
“Are you in touch with the police, David?”
“Either they don’t know or are not saying anything.”
Terri sat at her desk at S.F. General reviewing her most recent research data when Evan phoned.
“I’m your new liaison, Terri. I’d prefer that you come here as much as possible.”
“No problem. Please make sure that PAT wants me this time.”
“I’ll clear it with security.”
When Terri arrived at the security gate, the guard smiled. “Dr. Powell. How nice to see you again.”
“Harry, let me tell you, it’s great to see a friendly face at PAT.”
“You’re not going to cause any more excitement, Doctor, are you? That’s too much for a man of my age.”
“You mean a mature virile man in his mid 50s?”
He laughed then placed a visitor’s pass on her dashboard. He handed her a computer pass card. “I think you better get those eyes checked, Doc.”
Terri parked and walked toward Evan’s lab scanning the parking lot for Karl Muller. Just the thought of the menacing man made her anxious.
What’s with that? She thought.
Evan greeted her with a hug. They moved to the small conference room next to the lab where they placed stacks of research forms for review.
The data so engrossed them that they did not notice Karl Muller entering the room. When Terri looked up, she felt her heart pounding.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Karl said in soft tones.
“What is it?” Evan said.
“I just wanted to apologize to both of you, but especially to Dr. Powell. My behavior was inexcusable. It won’t happen again.”
Terri stared at the huge man, the dark beard and eyes.
He’s full of shit, She thought.
“I appreciate that,” Terri said. “If you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”
“Yes, I understand. Let me take but a moment. You need to know that I must follow my instruction concerning security measures. What happened before changes nothing.” He opened a manila folder and extracted two sheets of paper handing one to Terri and the other to Evan.
Terri scanned the paper. “You’re kidding. I’m not going to have you or anyone else rifle through my brief case every time I leave here. That’s an invasion of my privacy.”
“I’m sorry, but orders are orders.”
“Perhaps we need to reconsider the university’s relationship with PAT,” Evan said. “I’ll discuss this with my superiors and I suggest that you discuss this with Kendall. I’m not sure they want to disrupt this study at this time.”
It’s a bluff, thought Terri. I won’t let anything interfere with my resear
ch.
“We’ll see. Please, Doctor. Don’t take any of this personal. It’s just my job.”
“Right,” Terri said. She took a deep breath and said, “Perhaps you can help me, Karl.”
“Anything, Ma’am.”
“Dr. Gomez was to send me some important information by email, but I can’t find it. Maybe you can help?”
This bitch has got balls, Karl thought.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Matt and Shelly sat in Spenger’s, Berkeley’s venerable seafood restaurant, finishing an excellent cioppino made with fresh local seafood.
Shelly checked her watch. “It’s 8:30. Ms. Spice should be at work.”
Holiday Spice was Karl’s alibi.
When they approached to flashing neon display announcing, ‘Beaver Club, Gentlemen only’, the beefy bouncer put his hand up to stop Shelly. “No dames.”
“I’m not a dame,” Shelly said, “I’m a cop.”
“I don’t care if you’re Hillary Clinton. No women means no women. Get a warrant or beat it.”
Matt placed his arm on the man’s shoulder and guided his toward the rail. “Listen,” said Matt in a soft voice, “she’s my boss. Don’t make me look bad.”
“I don’t give a shit...” he began as Matt rammed the bouncer’s head into the iron rail. The big man rolled on his side unconscious.
When they got into the darkened, smoke-filled room, the blaring, beating rock music was deafening. They cornered a waitress and asked for Ms. Spice.
“That’s Holiday on stage. The one making love to the pole.”
Matt looked. The shapely blonde was twirling and grinding her crotch and her 38 double D’s into the gold pole. As she squatted at its base, patron reached over and inserted bills into her G-string.
After she finished, they followed her into the back stage area and to a dressing room filled with naked and partially dressed women.
“Holiday Spice,” Shelly shouted.
The woman remained seated before her mirror redoing her makeup.
“Holiday Spice,” Matt said louder this time into the back of her head.
She whirled around. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to answering to my stage name. Call me Calley.”
The stripper’s face was heavily made up, but the crow’s feet and creases between her eyes decried her body’s youth.
“Calley,” Shelly said, holding up her badge, “is there some place we can talk in private?”
“Sure,” she said pulling off the blond wig that revealed chestnut hair. “Did I do something wrong, officer?”
Shelly jerked her thumb up to show that she should move.
Calley took them to an office labeled, ‘Stage Manager’ and they entered.
“Can you tell me what’s this about?” she pleaded. “I paid that fine and made my appearance.”
“Do you know a man named Karl Muller?”
Calley paled. “Yes,” she whispered. “Did he do anything wrong?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Shelly.
“Where were you four nights ago between 9 p.m. and 2 a.m.?”
“I was here doing my shows.”
“Was Karl Muller here during that time?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said grabbing a cigarette that fluttered like a leaf in a breeze as she tried to light it.
“This is serious business, Ms. Spice,” Shelly said. “If you’re not telling the truth, we can charge you as an accessory to murder.”
“Murder? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do no murder. I don’t know nothing about no murder.”
“Will you swear under oath that he was here all that time?”
“I ain’t swearing nothing. I saw him when I was on stage and around the bar until we left after I finished my second set. I didn’t see him every second, but he was here.”
Shelly did her best cop stare. “Do you know the penalty for giving the police false information?”
“I can’t,” she cried. “He said...”
“We’ll protect you?” Shelly said.
“I don’t have nothin’ more to say. Should I get a lawyer?”
“You’re playing this all wrong,” said Matt.
“I gotta work. I got a kid to protect,” she said looking into Shelly’s eyes for compassion. “You understand. I ain’t saying nothing.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
After Jennifer Howe’s last visit at UC, she came home to the aroma of marinara sauce. Mickey was in the kitchen making dinner.
“What did Jason say?”
“Well, I’m making progress—two poisons rather than three.”
“Don’t,” Mickey said, “pessimism can’t help you get better.”
“Nothing can help me get better.”
Mickey flushed with anger. “Then why are we wasting our time? Why put up with sickening chemotherapy?”
Jennifer sat on the family room sofa staring ahead.
Mickey came over and slid next to her.
Jennifer reached over and grasped his hand. “I’ve even tried visualization techniques.”
“Visualization?”
“You know, picturing myself free of disease, healthy, and happy.” She released his hand. “I can’t do it. I try, but all I see is sickness, misery, and death. If you tell me that’s wrong, I’ll agree. I just can’t help myself.”
“You’re depressed. It changes everything—mood—perceptions.”
“Whatever it is, I can’t shake it.”
“You can, and you will,” Mickey said. “It’s not in your nature to stay down.”
Even Jennifer’s chemotherapy regimen of two medications rather than three was so complicated, she needed to keep a printed schedule. Between infusions, they sucked blood every few days to monitor her kidney function to determine when she could safely restart treatment with platinum.
“How are you feeling?” Jason Beckman asked, three weeks later.
“You want the truth?”
“Please.”
“I feel like shit. My energy level is so low, I can barely make it through my days even when I’m not enjoying the delightful side effects of the chemotherapy.”
“It’ll pass. Maybe I can give you something to increase your blood count. That may give you more energy.”
She pulled the scarf from her head. “What about this? I don’t have to worry about shaving my head or anywhere else. I can’t even enjoy the delight of a bikini wax.”
“Your hair will come back. It always does.”
“What happening with my kidneys?”
“They’re improving.”
“Does that mean I can start the platinum?”
“You can, but I need you to understand two things. First, a decision like this is more art than science, and second, we need to work together.”
“Okay, I think.”
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t like giving antibiotics or insulin where all you can do is help. Chemotherapy is iffy at best and when you superimpose life-threatening complications, the decisions become more difficult.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“I want us to be partners in these decisions, that’s all.”
“This is going to sound angry, Jason, but it’s not. I don’t want a partner. I want the best professional advice I can get.”
“When I’m sure what’s right, you’ll get that in no uncertain terms. When I first got into oncology, I tried the “what would I do” or the “what would I do if you were my wife” approaches. That never worked because each patient has his or her own needs.”
“I don’t get it,” Jennifer said. “Are you afraid you’ll regret your advice?”
“No—well, yes. Whenever the offense scores, I always want to replay the defense’s strategy.”
“Oh, I’m a football metaphor.” Jennifer looked into Jason’s eyes for twenty seconds then smiled. “I think I
understand.”
“What?”
“You’re addicted to the truth. You must wake up at night in a cold sweat dreaming that you deliberately mislead someone. When there isn’t an absolute truth, you’re like a skydiver plummeting toward earth, committed to the fall yet uncertain where you’ll land.”
Jason smiled. “Not bad, except it’s not me who’ll wind up in a lake or a swamp.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“We’ll start the platinum again and monitor your kidneys. We’ll keep it going as long as possible.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll—notice the pronoun, Jennifer, deal with whatever comes.”
“What about Terri Powell and her trial at San Francisco General?”
“Interesting, but you’re not a candidate.”
“Why?”
“If you like black humor, you’re going to love this, you’re too healthy.”
“Healthy? That is a joke.”
“Healthy isn’t the right word. You’re getting treatment that works. No responsible investigator will substitute that for the uncertainty of a Phase I clinical trial, no matter how promising.”
Henri Charles hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since he received the call from Scripps Institute. The thought that his laboratory had provided contaminated material to research institutions reflected on Laval, but especially on him.
“Prions?” Denise Richard shouted. “Impossible. Our quality control procedures are the best available. We’ve spent a fortune on them.”
“This is a whole new ball game, Denise. Nobody screens for prions in biological material for research. I’m not even sure they screen therapeutic material for prions such as vaccines. The technology for rapid screening is just over the horizon.”
“We had—I mean we have no reason to suspect contamination.”
“We do now,” Henri said. “We do now.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Not unexpectedly, the meat industry has the primary interest in developing prion tests to prove their products are free of disease. I asked two labs involved in screening studies to make their tests available to us. One test depends on finding antibodies to the prions, the other takes minute protein fragments and magnifies them like DNA testing.”
A Simple Cure Page 16