“I have no choice, but to stop the study.”
“No...No...” came the cries.
“Let me finish. I won’t administer more vaccine, at least this vaccine, until we have a new, uncontaminated product.”
“What happens if my melanoma comes back?” the woman asked.
“If it comes back and we have no new vaccine, I’m going to propose that each patient decide for him or her own self. It’s your life and if you want to take the risk of developing Mad Cow or something like it, you have that right.”
“What would you do?” asked Jennifer.
“I can’t answer that question when I don’t actually have the disease. Having it, and facing death...right now, I’d choose any treatment that offered me a chance at life.”
“What if I get Mad Cow?” Jennifer. “What’s the treatment?”
“If you understand nothing else today, understand this: We have no treatment for Mad Cow Disease. If you get it, it’s 100 percent fatal!”
When patients filed from the room, Terri signaled Jennifer. “Come to the office. I’d like to see you.”
Mickey held onto Jennifer’s arm as her legs moved in an erratic pattern and her arms jerked.
In the examining room, Terri said, “Are you getting any sleep?”
“Very little. This jerking and the muscle cramps keep me awake. The few minutes of sleep I get are filled with awful nightmares.”
“I’ve noticed that sometimes Jen’s speech is distorted,” Mickey said. “It's like she can’t get out the words.”
Terri began a careful examination. Jennifer’s reflexes were overactive with her arms jumping wildly when stimulated with the rubber reflex hammer. She noticed muscle fasciculations, the contraction of individual muscle bundles reminding Terri of the surface movement of water over a rocky creek bed.
As Terri neared the end of her examination, Jennifer lifted her nose. “Something smells funny.”
“What?” Terri asked.
Jennifer started to answer when the left side of her lip twitched. Almost at once, the twitching involved the entire left side of her face and she collapsed with a total body seizure.
Terri stuck a towel in her mouth, turned her to the side, and cushioned her flailing movements as she rode the seizure to its conclusion.
“Mickey, I’m admitting Jennifer to the hospital.”
“Don’t say it, Terri...don’t tell me it’s...”
This is moving even faster than Becky’s disease...I can’t believe it!
Chapter Fifty-Two
Terri and Mickey looked at Jennifer asleep in her intermediate ICU bed. Terri had placed her there so they could observe her for further seizure activity and monitor her vital signs.
Jennifer would awaken for an hour early in the evening, confused and disoriented, then she lapsed into deep sleep.
“What’s going on?” Mickey asked.
“I’m not sure. We expect that people who have a seizure will remain sleepy and even disoriented for some time afterward, but Jen had shown unusual behavior prior to the seizure.”
“Is she still having seizures?”
“No. We caught the last one on the electroencephalogram, the EEG, but it stopped.”
“What about the rest of her tests?”
“That’s a real problem for us, Mickey. Ever since she completed treatment with platinum, her kidney function has been abnormal.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Besides getting rid of waste products, the kidney works to maintain a stable chemical environment by controlling the body’s chemicals. For months, Jen’s sodium, potassium, calcium, and magnesium plus others, we call these electrolytes, have been abnormal.”
“Why can’t you straighten them out?”
“It’s difficult. The more I practice, the more respect I have for our body’s ability to keep things under control.”
Mickey started to say something then stopped.
“What is it?” asked Terri.
“It’s Mad Cow, isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer.
“Terri?”
“I’m sorry, Mickey. Mad Cow is my greatest fear.”
“At the meeting, you said that is was 100 percent fatal.”
“I’m sorry. Our only hope is that it’s something else.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do, Terri?”
“We can’t do anything tonight. I’ve ordered a series of tests for the morning and I’m consulting with every prion specialist I can reach. Why don’t you go home, Mickey?”
“I can’t.”
“Go home. Lizzy and Brad need you.”
“You’ll call me if anything...”
“Of course. I’m going home soon.”
Mickey bent over and kissed Jennifer then departed.
Terri sat at the nurses’ station writing a note and orders for tomorrow.
“Can I have a word with y’all, Dr. Powell?” The voice had a thick Southern accent.
Terri turned. He looked sixteen and wore a white laboratory coat with the name tag, “Chester McCoy, Research Associate, Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory.”
“South Carolina or Kentucky?” Terri asked.
“Mississippi, ma’am.”
“What can I do for you, Chester?”
“We’re doing a new type of analysis using neutrons to measure the body’s mineral content, and we’d like to get blood from Mrs. Howe.”
“Why Mrs. Howe?”
“We’re looking at how much platinum stays in the body after treatment and how it affects other chemicals. All I need is a few drops.”
“Sure, go ahead. Let me know if you find anything interesting.”
Terri called Matt to meet her at home.
He was standing in the kitchen uncorking a chilled bottle of Aquinas Napa Valley Chardonnay when she walked in.
“You’re a mind reader,” she said.
“This has been one hell of a day, babe.” He took two glasses from the shelf and poured. “I have pizza coming.”
Terri hugged Matt for a minute. “Thanks, I really needed that.”
The doorbell rang. Matt paid the delivery man and placed the pizza on the coffee table in the great room. They ate and sipped in silence.
“We can talk about it or not,” he said. “It’s up to you.”
“I want to, but can’t we relax for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” he said picking up another slice.
After a few minutes, Terri said, “You know that dream where you’re caught in a vortex, a whirlpool spiraling into the abyss and out of control, that’s how I feel. After Richie died, I was prepared to devote myself to two things, raising Abbie as he would have wished, and finding a cure for this disgusting disease. At least, I got one right.”
“She’s a great girl, in fact she’s amazing, kinda like her mother. You’re disappointment in the Melanoma protocol surprises me a bit. I know how you feel about your patients, especially Jennifer and Becky, but I know enough about research to understand the number of failures that come before a success. With the BCG study, you’re way ahead of the curve.”
“Becky died, and Jennifer will too. I can’t stand being a part of that.”
“What about your patients who are still alive only because of the vaccine? Soon you’ll have a prion free BCG vaccine. Think of how much good that can do. Think about other cancers, Terri.”
“There’s something else, Matt.”
“What?”
“I’m an experienced researcher trained to be analytical in the interpretation of data. We’ve all been ignoring one possibility. It may be the prions!”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The common denominator for the patients we cured may not have been the BCG, it may have been the prions! Maybe we’ve replaced the firing squad with lethal injection, only the former may have been more humane!”
Chapter Fifty
-Three
Richard Kendall looked out the window as the Boeing 767 began its descent into San Francisco International Airport. When the clouds parted, he saw the reflection of the sun off the East Bay, the white sails of boats, and the long wakes of freighters moving through the commercial shipping channels of the bay.
When they reached cruising altitude after their Chicago departure, Woody and Eddie had one drink then slept the rest of the way.
Richard knew he couldn’t sleep if he tried. He sensed trouble ahead and felt vulnerable.
When they reached the main part of the terminal, Richard saw the sign held aloft with Richard Kendall Party in red marker and expected to see a chauffeur. Instead he saw a large man holding the sign and a small woman beside him.
“Mr. Kendall,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m detective Shelly Kahn. This is my partner, Matt Hollis. The district attorney asked us to meet and escort you to his office.”
“Excuse me, detective,” Richard said, “I don’t see the necessity of a police escort. We’re here of our own free will to assist in your investigation.”
Shelly gave her most charming smile. “We certainly appreciate that sir. Now, if you’ll follow me.”
“Tell us where to meet you, Detective,” Woody said. “We’ll be there after we pick up our luggage.”
While they waited by the baggage carousel, Shelly and Matt watched from a distance.
Eddie looked over his shoulder and waved to them. “They’re trying to intimidate us, Woody.”
“It’s working,” Richard said. He reached into his coat pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty brow.
“Don’t let them get to you, boss,” Woody said. “You’ll only encourage them if they sense you have something to hide.”
When they retrieved their bags, Eddie carried them outside and stored them in the rear of the waiting black Ford Expedition.
As they drove Highway 101 toward the Bay Bridge, Woody leaned forward. “Were you two involved in the death of Karl Muller?”
“You might say that,” Matt said.
Woody leaned forward. “Is there anything new on Lisa Gomez?”
“Gentlemen,” Shelly said. “We can’t share anything with you now.”
“How long do you think this meeting will take?” Richard asked.
Matt turned to the rear. “As long as it takes.”
“I’m a busy man, detective,” Richard said. “I flew here to cooperate, however I don’t have unlimited time. I have a business to run, a big business, I might add.”
Matt and Shelly remained silent.
“Now wait a damn minute,” Richard said, “I’ve been more...”
Woody pulled him back and whispered in his ear.
The traffic eastbound on the bridge was light, but when they reached Oakland, it was bumper- to-bumper.
It was almost 10 a.m. when they reached Fallon Street and the Davidson Courthouse.
“Why are we at the courthouse?” Richard asked.
“That’s where DA Conner has her offices,” Matt said.
“Her offices,” Richard said. “I thought her name was Quinn Conner.”
“It is,” Shelly said, “and I’ll guarantee she’s a woman.”
They parked underground then took the elevator to the third floor and entered the door labeled, ‘Quinn Conner, Alameda County Assistant District Attorney’.
The receptionist seated them to a large conference room. “Can I get you gentlemen coffee or a soft drink?”
“We’re okay,” Richard said.
“Ms. Conner will join you in a moment.”
When Quinn Conner entered, all three men stood.
Quinn was a little over five feet tall and looked to be in her middle thirties. She wore a gray Donna Karin business suit, a silk cream-colored blouse, and a string of small pearls. Her light-brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail.
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” Quinn said. “I think you know Detectives Kahn and Hollis, and I’m sure you know Greg and Amanda Wincott.”
“Thank you for having us,” Richard said. “Let me introduce Mr. Hawkins, our chief of security and his associate Mr. Macy.”
“Mr. Hawkins,” Quinn said, “as chief of Kendall security, you’re responsible for your employees?”
“Of course,” Woody said, “but we didn’t bargain for this.”
“You hired Karl Muller, assured yourself of his qualifications, and when he knew his job, you put him to work at PAT. Is that correct?”
“Mr. Macy knew Muller from their days serving together in the military.”
“But, you’re not responsible for his actions while at PAT, his violence, and his kidnapping and attempted murder of Dr. Powell.”
“We never condoned any of that,” Richard said. “That’s contrary to the principles of Kendall Pharmaceuticals.”
Greg had remained silent during Richard’s assertion about Kendall Pharmaceutical’s principles. He turned to Amanda. “I’m going to puke.”
Greg turned to Quinn. “I called Mr. Kimball after Karl Muller’s first assault. I said he’d have to get rid of him, and that Muller’s behavior was criminal. Kendall refused and threatened to stop all support for our research on orphan drugs.”
“That’s not the way I recall the conversations, Doctor,” Richard said.
“We should never have gotten in bed with a company like Kendall,” Amanda said. “They’ve ruined everything we worked so hard for. If we knew then what we know now, we’d have let PAT go under.”
“My father,” Richard said, “began Kendall Pharmaceuticals and although this is a tough business, we remain a highly ethical company.”
Quinn rolled her eyes.
“Look, Ma’am,” Eddie said, “I made a mistake when I hired Muller. He was a buddy. He had the right experience and the toughness for security work, but we never knew he’d go so far astray.”
Quinn smirked. “How far astray did you think he’d go, Mr. Macy?”
“That’s a figure of speech, Ms. Conner,” Richard said.
“Do you know what Karl was after,” Quinn asked.
“For all I know,” Woody said, “it was personal between him and Dr. Powell.”
“Personal? Like what?”
“Well,” Woody said, “I know they didn’t get along.”
Quinn opened a folder. “I have Dr. Powell’s statement regarding the incident. It seems that Karl Muller wanted information about emails, videos, and a cipher that Lisa Gomez left. Does that sound personal to any of you? To me, it sounds like he’s acting in the interest of Kendall Pharmaceuticals.”
“I can assure you, Ms. Quinn,” Richard asserted, “that’s not the case.”
“If it were,” Quinn said, “you’d be aiding and abetting a felony. Isn’t that true?”
“Perhaps we should be represented by counsel?” Richard said. “We came here to cooperate, but you appear to have your own agenda.”
“That’s your right, of course,” Quinn said. “Perhaps you’re correct that the next step for me is a grand jury or court.”
“We want to help,” Woody said.
Quinn Conner looked at Shelly and Matt with the slightest smile and opened another folder.
“We have absolute proof, gentlemen that PAT/Kendall was in possession of stolen goods.”
“Ridiculous,” Woody said.
“Berkeley Police have in custody, a sample of BCG bacteria obtained from storage at PAT,” Quinn said. “That BCG is identical to the sample stolen from Laval Laboratories in Quebec and cost the life of the courier Emile Gigot. That BCG is the basis for your Phase I vaccine against melanoma and it’s responsible for the death of at least one patient.”
Richard paled. “I think it’s time we talked with our attorney.”
“Good idea,” Quinn said.
Chapter Fifty-Four
On the third day of Jennifer’s hospitalization, Mickey and Marlene, her mother, sat at her bedside as the morning sun shone through the win
dow.
Marlene’s eyes were red as she blotted them with a tear-stained handkerchief.
“I can’t stand to see her this way, Mickey. When will Dr. Powell be in?”
Mickey looked at his watch. “It’s almost eight. She’ll be here soon.”
“I’ve been talking with everyone I can think of,” Marlene said, “all the doctors we know, friends who have had cancer, and I even called Barbara Boxer to see if she could give me a name at the National Cancer Institute. She gave me the name of a Dr. Gallop.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that the University of California is one of the finest cancer treatment centers in the world and that we should trust their judgment. Moreover, he said that Terri Powell, as principal investigator, knows more about this vaccine than anyone.”
Mickey shook his head. “It’s more than that. Terri is the most dedicated physician I’ve ever known. She’ll do everything possible to save Jennifer.”
“I went on the Internet and found lots of sites advocating alternative forms of treatment for advanced melanoma—they make it sound so good.”
“Please, Marlene, don’t do this to yourself or to Jennifer. The Internet is full of quack suggestions designed to make a buck from desperate patients. Doing that now would be like getting off a cruise ship facing rough weather for a life raft, the cruelest form of false hope. If Terri knew of something that would help, she’d be using it.”
Jennifer groaned and tried to twist to the left, but the nurses had applied leather restraints to her arms and legs.
Marlene held Jennifer’s hand. “I hate to see her tied down like this. It’s inhumane.”
“It’s necessary. She could injure herself, pull out her tubes and monitoring leads if she got free.”
“I just hate it.”
“Me too.”
The door opened and Terri entered. A group of white-coated physicians followed.
“Mickey, do you mind if a few of our residents sit in on Jennifer’s case?”
When Mickey looked at the group, Terri knew he minded, but wouldn’t say anything. Lack of privacy is one disadvantage of being a patient in a teaching hospital.
“Don’t be concerned,” Terri said. “After I finish, we’ll have our time alone. Maybe you’d prefer to wait outside?”
A Simple Cure Page 24