by Babs Carryer
“Who else at the university knew about DeathX?” he wants to know.
As medical examiner in a U situation – Undetermined – Dr. Williams had kept samples. Tissue samples, blood samples. He is going to re-test those samples. For DeathX. We know what the answer will be.
Amy sits there, tears streaming down her face. There is no way that she will ever make sense of all this, I realize. You don’t get over this. You may move on, but it’s always with you. Some people believe that murder is an act that needs to be resolved. I believe that murder itself is an act of resolution.
…….
The next day I get a letter in the mail. I who it’s from because it says Dr. Errol and his lab address. My hands tremble as I open it. I pour the last of the latest bottle of The Balvenie in a glass. And I call Neal. Well, I actually just call to him. He has moved in.
“For your safety,” he told me. “It will be better if I am close by.” It was funny and sweet and all the things that I love about him. He comes into the kitchen, sees the drink, pours himself one from a lesser bottle, Johnny Walker, and joins me at the table.
“It’s a letter,” I say.
“Yes I see that,” he says. “Who’s it from?” he asks. I don’t reply. “Is it Shala?”
“April 13
Dear Brie, I know that you will be reading this after you already know about me, and I feel that you must be thinking terrible things about me. They are all true, and I write this letter not to excuse myself. I know I have done something terrible, and I cannot forgive myself. But I want to explain to you because I always admire you so much, how you try to solve crime even though you not professional. You are the person that I would like to be. But I cannot. I am not from here. Even worse, I am from border of two countries, and we are nothing, my family and me. You do not know because you are not from there. In my country women are not prized. Not valued. We are nothing. You have read about the rapes? This happens not just now but all the time. Men in my country feel it is their right, there are no rules there to stop. To them, we are objects to be spit upon. My sister was raped and beaten. Nobody brought to justice. My parents try hard to send me school far away so that I would not suffer same. My family very poor. Poorer than anyone in your country. We no have food, shoes, clothes. No school. My parents send me to big city, to cousins for education. I work hard because I know their sacrifice. It is hard. I must leave home so that I live.
I try hard. I very good student. I pleased to be with Dr. Errol’s lab. It is big honor. Dr. Errol, he tease me but he not like men at home. He say things with smile and he not do anything to make me afraid.
When we discover this terrible thing, DeathX, I see something I never have courage to see before. I see my family – clean and in the United States. I see men having respect for me. I see helping women all over my country to stop men beating. I can do this because nerve agent have much value. I know people will pay. I think, what matter if some are dying if others are living?
But Dr. Errol he no agree. He say no to contact buyers in my country. I very angry with him. I see so much good coming even if some bad too, and I tell him about my family. I show him pictures from when I went home last year. He seem very sad and he say he will help me, but he not help me. I try hard in convincing him.
I did not mean hurt Dr. Errol. He is my hero. He wonderful man, husband, father, scientist, and entrepreneur. He so perfect and my family in such dirt and lacking in freedom to choose. I get letter from my mother that my sister kill herself because she so shamed. She killed herself with kitchen knife. She wear sign on breast saying ‘I am free.’
I with Dr. Errol that night on boat. I meet him from my boat I am rowing. I unpeel a stamp of DeathX. I know it will not be detected. I thinking that if Dr. Errol not here then I take nerve agent to my country and sell to terrorists. I know people who will help me. I am very angry so angry inside, and I know that I can do this terrible thing so that I can be free. I thinking I will go now to my country and no one will know.
But it is not like I was thinking in planning. I see how sad everyone is because of Dr. Errol. I feel guilty, and I think that maybe I not do what I planning. I see you and know that you solve murder. I help you. I thinking that Yahya is terrorist, and I thinking that in New York he is planning terrible things so not think badly to tell you my thoughts because I thinking that this is good to stop him. Then I think Patrick can be blame. But this is also not true. I cannot live with this now. I am the one of blame, Brie. I am guilty. No one else.
I much mistaken. You are smart and you not stop. You will keep going until you find me. I cannot bear this, on my people, on my country. It is terrible I have done. It is terrible thing I do now. But it is more terrible if I do my plan. I have to stop these terrible things. I am stopping.
I am sorry. I think that if I were friends with you long time maybe I not thinking these things. But it too late for me. I so sorry to be telling you all things in this letter but I must. I do all this my own. No one else part of plan. I not want hurt anyone anymore. I know you understand.
Your friend who is now free,
Shala”
…….
I am drowning. That there could be such pain in the world. I never want to wake up.
Chapter 43
May 1, one year later
It wasn’t straightforward, but we finally got our data and the samples from the NGX clinical trial. I know that statistically a failed trial in Phase III is not uncommon. Heck, let’s face it, there are a lot of drugs that make it to market and then get pulled – for adverse reactions, previously unnoticed side effects, one or more of these. But we got stopped. Mid-stream and without warning. “Is this normal?” we asked ourselves. Answer: “Well, it happens.” In the world of startups, you are at risk. You do all you can to de-risk: you get the best people, you solve a real problem, you have great technology, strong intellectual property, and financing.
It doesn’t make any sense that large companies lack an appetite for risk. They can’t have begun there. And if they end there, they end. You can’t take the risk out of innovation. You have to build it in. And your people – your team, your shareholders, your board members – they all have to accept that you are trying to do something greater than is even possible. You face the cliffs of Normandy because you don’t know what is impossible – my dad told me that. If you knew it was impossible, you would never attempt to get past the status quo.
“Mankind is hard-wired for innovation,” Jim has often reminded me. Does someone beat that out of us I wonder? When a company gets big, do they just forget how to manage risk?
Matt is back. Jim convinced the board to give him another try, and he jumped back in with a few four letter words but no hesitation.
Jim has been working with me to take over his NewVenturist blog. We both write posts about entrepreneurship, but he does less and less, and I do more and more. I am honored at this passing of the torch. I won’t let him down.
…….
It took us a year, but we have a new HD program. When we examined the data from the trial, we found some unexpected things. One was that the drug had no side effects. NGX didn’t stop the trial because something happened. The drug simply didn’t work for the end point that we had established. Six months into it the principal investigator at NGX decided to pull the plug. But he wasn’t very thorough about his analysis, and we were right. If he had kept on going, if he had really looked hard at the data, he would have seen a glimmer of hope.
Turns out the drug doesn’t work for all HD patients. That would have been our dream come true, and Matt and the others might be basking in the Bahamas right now if that had been the case. But some patients did improve. Unfortunately, it was only a small sub-group of the trial’s population that seemed to improve. Had the PI at NGX looked deeply into this, he might have noticed something unique about those patients. They were all at different states of the disease’s progression; that’s what made it difficult to see at first glance. But the
y all had heightened blood counts of a certain protein. While there were a million possible proteins of interest, Matt had found something in Errol’s notes. Something that popped out at him. And, as he looked at the data, he noticed that particular protein. As we re-tested HD66 on the retrospective samples, we noticed a remarkable pattern. It was something new. Something no one noticed before. What we think we have discovered may actually be a new form of HD. As in cancer, not all Huntington’s is the same. We could actually test this theory in new trials.
We are now conducting a new Phase II trial – more refined perhaps than previously. Certainly, much wiser. I didn’t know the details as it’s ongoing – blinded, and all that. Matt had insisted that we recruit my father’s physician as part of the trial so that my father could be included in the patient population. Apparently my father fit the blood type of the sub-group.
One of life’s little ironies is that I found out about the effects of the drug on the sub-group before anyone else. After the whole thing with Shala was over, I went to see Amy. She hugged me and offered me a glass of retsina. “I remember that you liked it. He would love that you are drinking it now,” she said sadly.
As I sipped my drink I wandered into their home office. Right there on the white board were a bunch of marks. Funny that he should have a white board at home, I thought. Like mine in my kitchen. But then it hit me. These were not random scratchings. These were formulas. Of the HD66 drug. But they tracked to different blood types and some other things that I couldn’t place initially. I remembered the email. “I will leave it for safe keeping…” Of course, what could be safer than his home. His refuge.
Amy came in behind me. “I didn’t have the heart to erase it,” she said quietly. “I leave it there to remind me of him.”
“Amy,” I said turning to her and looking at her, knowing that tears flowed from my eyes like the river. “It’s not nothing. This is important. You didn’t erase it. You didn’t erase him. For a reason. This means something. It’s a cure.”
Amy looked at me, and I walked up to her and hugged her long and hard. “It’s for me, Amy. You couldn’t have known that. My dad has HD. Errol has found a cure, specifically for him.” She looked at me in wonder. “He was a great man, Amy. He has saved my father because of this. And me. It’s hereditary,” I explain.
…….
I called Neal on the way home. I had told him almost a year ago about my dad’s HD and what that meant for me. We had gone up to Amherst for the weekend. I wanted him to see it first-hand. He was great about it.
“Brie, you should get tested,” he told me in my childhood room.
“But you know what this means, what this might mean, for us?” I had responded.
“Yes of course, but I don’t want to marry anyone else.” And he had popped a lovely little diamond and sapphire ring out of his pocket. “This was my grandmother’s. My mother gave it to me thinking that we might…”
I started to cry, and Neal held me close. I realized I have never felt safer with anyone. And I’m an idiot that I didn’t tell him sooner and told him so.
“No Brie, not an idiot. You’re my startup entrepreneurial sleuth. You did what no one else could do. I love you now and forever. For who you are, Brie.”
…….
The next morning, Neal talked to both of my parents.
“He actually asked for our permission to ask you to marry him,” my mother told as she emerged from the dining room. “Your father and I cried. We’re so happy for you, Brie, my dear.”
I finger the lovely set of pearls Neal had bought for me to replace my grandmother’s set. I don’t know if I’ll ever take them off.
…….
I get tested two weeks later. Negative. I call Neal when I got the call from the doctor’s office.
“I knew it. I knew nothing would stop you or us.” He sighs. “Let’s get married, Brie. Let’s have babies.”
I laugh, “First a wedding. Then we’ll see.”
I call my mother the next day. I tell her about my dilemma, about how afraid I was to have the test done. About what it would mean. And I laugh the fears away.
“Oh Brie,” she says, gasping. “I’m so sorry.”
“But Mom, it’s good news.”
“Yes, of course. But… can I tell you something?” she asks gently.
The story. Her story. It was a long time ago, of course. My mother had a flame at Reed College that had never died away. He showed up in Berkeley, and they had an affair. He was my father. Genetically that is. She felt guilty about the whole thing and broke it off when she realized she was pregnant. She never told my father. She didn’t have the heart. And she loved him; she told me that she hoped that I realized that. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Just that she was young and reckless. But she knew when I was born with those green eyes, that they were his.
I look out over my terrace on Howe Street and feel numb.
“Are you alright?” she asks. “Do you want to know anything about him, his name or anything? I’m stupid to have kept this in for so long. I almost told you so many times, but I never wanted to upset your world. I never wanted to slow you down. That’s my only excuse.”
I’m not going to cry. I’m done with tears. “It’s OK, Mom,” I tell her. “I don’t think it’s important anymore. And no, I don’t want to know about him. I have a father.”
About a week later I go to visit. My mother picks me up from the Hartford airport. She gives me a long firm hug. When I open the front door, my dad comes walking towards me. I don’t know whether he is taking the drug or the placebo. All I know is that he walks with a very slow but steady gait and holds out his arms to me. I stare at his fingers. They are not shaking.
…….
What happens in a startup when you have lost your scientist forever, when your investors abandon you, when your lead product fails, and you have no idea what to do?
Answer: you start up… again.
#######
Acknowledgements
I want to thank those who have helped me on this journey:
Dottie who was my first source of inspiration
My beta readers, Carol, David, Elin, Felicity, Kerry, Len, and Natalie
Sisters in Crime Pittsburgh Chapter whose members are my heroes
Karol, who graciously edited
Mary who edited some more and fixed a plot line disaster
Gwen who helped me with publishing and marketing
Tom and FJ, who gave me advice when I needed it
Guilherme, who has helped all along with NewVenturist
My daughter’s cat, Arwen, for being a furry friend
My beloved beagle, Luna, who is sorely missed
My kids, Justine and Straker, for their unflagging encouragement, including Justine’s fabulous cover art
And mostly my husband, Tim, who read more drafts than I thought possible and who quoted Churchill to “never ever ever ever ever give up!”
About the author
Babs Carryer is a serial technology entrepreneur. Having spent the bulk of her life creating and advising startups, she has now turned to writing. Babs’s New Venturist blog has attracted thousands of readers interested in startups and entrepreneurs. Currently, Babs is director of education and outreach for the University of Pittsburgh’s Innovation Institute where she encourages and supports innovation and entrepreneurship across campus to all students, faculty, researchers and clinicians. Previously, Babs helped develop the entrepreneurial ecosystem at Carnegie Mellon University where she taught entrepreneurship, was embedded entrepreneur, and innovation advisor. Babs was director of training and faculty development at VentureWell, (formerly the National Collegiate Inventors and Innovators Alliance). Babs is President of Carryer Consulting, and has worked with hundreds of companies and startups to grow their businesses. Babs co-founded LaunchCyte, which today has a portfolio of five companies which have commercialized university technologies into marketplace products. Babs co-founded the Pittsburgh ch
apter of Women In Bio. Babs has a Masters in Public Management (MPM) from Heinz College at Carnegie Mellon and a BA from Mills College. She lives in Pittsburgh, PA with her husband, Tim, and travels often to the Chesapeake where they have a cottage and two boats.
Note from the author
Thanks for reading HD66: search for a cure or a killer? I hope that you’ve enjoyed it! This is my first venture into fiction and I hope that you stay in touch for future startup mystery novels and non-fiction books about entrepreneurship.
I’d be grateful if you could post however many stars you believe the novel deserves on its Amazon page.
Please write a review if you are so inclined.
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You can find other publications and more about me on my website:
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*A portion of the proceeds from sales of this book are donated to organizations addressing the challenges of two causes introduced in the story: Huntington’s Disease and violence against women.
* * *
[1] Reference: Flannery, Tom. "Talkin' Woody Guthrie Huntington's Chorea Blues." Songaweek. 2004. Web. 10 Apr. 2010. http://www.songaweek.com/woody/songs/huntington.html