After Harmony fought her way through the Oakland traffic to get to Washington Street, she could barely remember the trip. She drove around for fifteen minutes until she found a parking space. Her nausea had not abated. Her mouth was dry and her hands trembled.
She approached the security point at the entrance. “I’m Dr. Lane. Dr. Henson is expecting me.”
They checked her bag in the x-ray machine and walked Harmony through the metal detector, alarming it three times. Finally, after removing her belt and her earrings, she passed through. They directed her to Dr. Henson’s office on the second floor.
Even this modern building stunk like a morgue, a smell of death and decay that she would always remember since she viewed her first autopsy in medical school.
She came to the office of the Chief Medical Examiner, and knocked.
A middle aged, well-dressed woman with a bright smile answered. “I’m Clarice Henson. You must be Dr. Lane.”
“Harm or Harmony, Dr. Henson.”
“Please call me Clarice. I’m sorry to bring you here in this way, but we have a major problem with a body we found at the Rockridge Bart station several nights ago. I suspect it’s Zoe Sims.”
“Zoe Sims?” Harmony said, her legs weakening. “That’s not possible.”
“Hear me out.”
“You said there was a problem. What kind of problem, Clarice?”
“The identification of the body has proven troublesome.”
“Troublesome?”
“Please don’t think me insensitive, Harmony, but almost everything points to the body being Zoe Sims, but some things don’t make any sense.”
“What things?”
“If it’s okay with you, let’s go to the morgue and examine the body. Words don’t do justice to what we’ve seen.”
Harmony felt even more nauseated and tremulous as she walked into the chilled autopsy suite. Clarice stood in front of a drawer labeled ‘Jane Doe 984-04’ and nodded. “If you’re ready?”
Harmony felt lightheaded. “I’m okay.”
Clarice pulled the drawer out. She stood before the black zippered body bag and pulled it open. The coarse zipper sound echoed through the tiled room.
Harmony looked down into the bag and had an immediate sense of relief at the vision of this woman, heavily wrinkled and clearly in her late 70s or 80s. “I don’t recognize her.”
“Take these gloves,” Clarice said as she donned a pair herself.
Clarice held the shoulder. “Pull here.”
Harmony grasped and pulled. When the corpse flipped over onto its stomach, the posterior shoulder came into view. Harmony stared with disbelief at Zoe’s green frog tattoo. It was the last thing she remembered as she slumped to the floor.
Chapter Thirty-T hree
Andre Keller studied Angela. “You look great.”
They were having lunch at Hong Kong East Ocean, a gourmet Chinese restaurant on the approach to the Emeryville marinas. The huge windows gave a panoramic view of the San Francisco Bay. “I feel great too. If this continues, you can forget other aspects of your research and we’ll make billions in rejuvenation.”
They chatted through lunch, and afterward, over coffee, Angela got down to business. “I’m almost ready to make a bid for control of PAT. We’ve been accumulating shares, easier since the board went ahead with a new stock issue. I’d like to strike a deal with Greg and Amanda, and with the board. What do you think?”
“The Wincotts built PAT to discover and make available orphan drugs,” Andre said, “but the company has drifted too far away from that objective. Although they’re pleased with our success and the research, I don’t think these circumstances can push them away from orphan drugs...remember, Angela, it’s not all business for them.”
“What about the board?”
“I’m sorry to say, Angela, Greg handpicked half the board. They reflect his values, but serious executives serve as well. They’ve been responsible for the public financing and the expansion of our capabilities.
“Let’s consider another approach, one that gets us and the Wincotts on the same side. If we’re successful with PAT0075, we can crank up the research on orphan drugs. The cost of such research will be a drop in the bucket compared to what we’ll make on PAT0075 and other drugs that will follow.”
“We won’t forget your efforts on our behalf, Andre. You’ll find concrete proof of our gratitude.”
“I appreciate that. I certainly don’t have an aversion to an improved lifestyle, but what I really want is vigorous support for my research and to be left alone.”
Four miles northeast of Emeryville, Beth Byrnes, and Sandy Greer were having lunch at Berkeley’s famous restaurant, Chez Panisse. The second floor room was crowded as usual and echoed with disharmonious conversations, the rattle of plates, and the rush of waiters darting among the tables.
They’d chatted on a whole range of subjects, avoiding the medical ones until Beth reached over and touched Sandy’s face. “You look just incredible, younger, and I don’t know...healthier. I don’t think I can see your rash anymore. I hope you’re feeling as good as you look.”
“Within days after Harmony gave me the new medication, I began feeling better, especially the aching joints and my rash. Even more than that, I began feeling younger. My body has changed, Beth. It doesn’t make sense, but by any number of measurements, I am younger. Lately, however, I’ve been a little more tired. Maybe my real age is catching up with me.”
“How are you getting along with Harmony Lane?”
“She’s great, Beth...no reflection on Jack, but for me, there’s something about a woman physician that makes me comfortable. I hope Jack’s not angry.”
“Of course not. Jack’s had more than enough positive feedback regarding his worth as a physician. Any more, he’ll turn into an egomaniac. He’s conservative regarding new treatments and he worries too much. It’s part of what makes him a great doc.”
Sandy went on in detail about the renaissance in her marriage and particularly in their sex life. “Marty’s as attentive to me now as he was when we first fell in love. It’s wonderful!”
“Well, if I had any more attention from Jack, I wouldn’t get anything done. It’s nice to know there’s help around if we need it.”
“Harmony’s been successful in practice, but when we talked, she said that there’s been resistance to her personally among the docs. Is that right?”
“I’m sure it’s not personal, but anyone practicing what the docs call fringe medicine would generate resistance. I don’t think we should get into that.”
“Why not? And what’s fringe medicine?”
“You’re my friend and you have a good relationship with Harmony, so why should I say anything that might cause concern, especially since Dr. Lane is a good and a conscientious physician. Besides, anything I say may not apply to her specifically.”
Sandy smiled. “Beth, you should go into politics...that was a mouthful. Just tell me what you think.”
“Anyone who practices medical ecology, uses megadoses of vitamins, treats people for insignificant yeast infections and attracts neurotic women with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome will incite physicians’ disapproval as way out of the mainstream of medical practice. Frankly, right or wrong, the staff will think of them as oddballs.”
“That’s so unfair, Beth. Harmony’s just willing to try anything that might help her patients. What’s wrong with that?”
“I’ve said enough. Maybe we’re too traditional and too conservative, but I don’t like unproven treatments. I don’t like physicians who take advantage of patients, especially women. I don’t like women substituting unproven treatments for standard treatments that we know will work. They could be putting their health or even their lives in jeopardy.”
“Harmony is nothing like that.”
“I sure hope not.”
It’s time, Angela Brightman thought, to get a feel for Greg and Amanda’s reaction to my plans for PA
T. I’ll soon have control of their company.
Angela arranged for a meeting with Greg and Amanda at PAT headquarters. She was all business today, wearing a Gucci fitted business suit with a flared skirt two inches above her knees.
Amanda kissed Angela on the cheek. “It’s great to see you. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you Amanda. It’s great to see both of you. Let me offer my congratulations and the appreciation of my group of shareholders for the success you’ve brought to PAT. Thanks to you, we’ve made a great deal of money, and, if I may say, the prospects for PAT look better than ever.”
“Well, thank you. Our success is in no small part due to the commitment, hard work, and the ingenuity of our people.”
“The group of investors that I represent asked me to meet with you both to discuss the future of PAT. As I’m sure you know, success brings complications and opportunities.”
Greg smiled. “Well, you know that Amanda and I started PAT with a single purpose in mind— to discover, develop, and manufacture orphan drugs. We realize that PAT’s become much more than an orphan drug company, and that our discoveries are leading the company onto a pathway we never anticipated. To complicate things, PAT is publicly traded and we have responsibilities to your group, Angela, and to thousands of our shareholders.”
Angela smiled. “Well, you’ve just made my task much easier as we’re on the same page. My shareholders and I feel that, although orphan drugs are the sole source of income and research funding, very soon it will become a minor part of what’s going to happen at PAT.”
“A minor part?” Amanda said. “It’s our entire justification for existence and homage to our son who died because companies like PAT are practically nonexistent.”
“Please don’t get upset,” Angela said. “It’s a cruel fact of life that in a publicly traded company, it’s the bottom line that counts. We, your stockholders, didn’t make the rules, we’re just trying to do the best by them.”
“Believe me,” Greg said, “I understand what you’re saying perfectly, but until you tell me what your group wants, there’s no way I can respond.”
“To be crude,” Angela said, smiling, “we believe in the Willie Sutton philosophy.”
“Willie Sutton?” Amanda asked.
Greg turned to Amanda. “You remember Willie Sutton, the bank robber who, when asked why he robbed banks, said, ‘that’s where the money is.’”
“Willie was right,” Angela said, “and there’s no money in orphan drugs.”
“I understand, Angela,” Greg said, “and we know that some accommodation to our success is necessary, but no way are we going to abandon our primary interest in orphan drugs as long as we have control of PAT.”
“To be brutally frank, sir, that won’t be too much longer. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” Greg laughed. “You’re tough, smart, and excuse me, ruthless. We know that. Trust never was and never will be part of the equation.”
“You’re no slouch in business yourself, Greg, so I’ll say it out loud. This transition can go easy or hard, the choice is yours, but go it will, trust me on that.”
Greg rose indicating that the meeting was over. “Well, thank you for the frank discussion. We look forward to further discussions on the subject.”
Angela rose and shook both their hands, and smiled. “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, Greg, or better, don’t throw the stem cells out with the culture media. Think about it. Be creative. We can easily fulfill each other’s needs without an all-out war.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The heavy green branches of dense fir trees smack against Harmony’s face as she races through the twilight forest.
Although she can’t hear them, she knows they are coming for her—getting closer by the second.
Finally, she stops in a small clearing, and bends over, placing her hands on her thighs as she tries to catch her breath. The forest is silent but for her gasps.
Suddenly, from somewhere behind, she hears the crunch of the matted, twig-filled ground cover. She’s running again, ignoring every tree and branch in her path, and nearly colliding with a downed redwood. She scrambles over the fallen giant, but they are getting closer.
From the right and the left sides, she hears the telltale signs of the pursuit. She bolts straight ahead when the forest abruptly ends.
In the bright setting sun, she finds herself flying through space plunging for the rocks below.
Blackness envelops her.
Suddenly, a bright light exploded into Harmony’s eyes. Her body coughed and gagged against something at her face. She gasped and pushed the hand waving the open ammonia ampoule under her nose.
“Dr. Lane...Harmony, can you hear me? Are you okay?” came a familiar voice.
Harmony coughed again and pushed away the arms holding her.
“It’s okay, Harmony, it’s Clarice, Dr. Henson. You fainted. Are you hurt?”
It all rushed back to Harmony—the horror. Zoe—or what was once Zoe, lying in the icy darkness of that black body bag. She bolted to the sitting position screaming, sobbing, “Zoe...I can’t believe it, Zoe. It can’t be you; you’re only thirty-four. What happened? What did I do?”
Harmony’s was in anguish. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“What did you mean by saying ‘what did I do?’ Do you know what went on here?”
“She was my friend and my patient. I loved Zoe. I could never have done anything to hurt her.”
“What were you seeing her for? Could any of that explain this?”
“Do they know?”
“Do who know?”
“Zoe’s parents, do they know?”
“I don’t think so. I certainly didn’t call, in fact I don’t know where they are or how to reach them.”
“How did you find me?”
Clarice’s voice assumed official tones. “A friend said she was off sick and knew you were her physician. You must tell me everything you know. What happened to Zoe?”
Harmony stood. She grabbed some tissues and blew her nose. “I don’t have time for this now. I must call Barbara and Ted Sims. This will kill them!”
The medical examiner blocked her path. “This isn’t going away, Dr. Lane. I’ll be seeing you very soon, and one way or another, you’re going to answer my questions.”
Harmony sat in her car staring at her cell phone. Many times in the past, she’d informed family about the death of a loved one, but this was different, more than different—this was impossible.
Harmony dialed the Georgian Bay number. After many rings, Barbara Sims answered.
“It’s Harmony...” she could barely breathe.
“Harmony, have you heard from Zoe?”
Harmony remained silent.
“Are you there Harmony? What’s wrong?”
She could feel Barbara’s panic setting in. “Barbara, I...” she couldn’t continue. Harmony broke down into deep sobs.
“Oh my God,” Barbara screamed, and there was silence.
Ted’s panicked voice boomed in the background. “Barbara...Barbara, are you okay?”
“Harmony, it’s Ted. What’s happened?”
“It’s Zoe...she’s gone.”
“Gone? What are you talking about?”
“The police found her. She’s dead.”
“Oh my God...my baby...no it can’t be!”
In a daze, Harmony listened to Ted’s words. “She’s gone Barb, our baby’s gone.”
Harmony heard their words. They were like the soft echo through a tunnel as she listened in, a distant witness to the carnage she’d inspired.
What have I done?
Moments later, Ted was back on the line. “What happened? We talked to her two or three weeks ago. She felt great, loved that new medication you gave her.”
Soft tones were all that Harmony could manage. “They’re doing an autopsy now. We should find out sometime soon.”
Silence.
Ted whispered. “I won’
t repeat that word. Barbara’s had enough. We’re catching the first plane out.”
When Harmony returned to her office, two husky, dark-suited men with thick black-soled shoes were waiting.
“Dr. Lane?”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I’m Detective Alex Curry, and this is my partner Sargent Dan Brown. We have a warrant for the medical records of Zoe Sims.”
Harmony unlocked the door “All she had to do was ask for them. She didn’t need to do this.”
“I don’t know ma’am. I just follow orders,” he paused. “Sometimes the temptation to alter records is irresistible.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Greg and Amanda Wincott were sitting at their breakfast table sharing the morning paper. The bright morning sun shone through their large bay windows. They were finishing their final sips of coffee when the phone rang.
“Amanda, it’s Archie Blake. Is Greg around?”
“Yes of course, Dr. Blake...”
“Please, Amanda, call me Archie”
“It’s hard to break old habits professor...I mean Archie. I’ll get Greg.”
“Good morning Archie, what’s up?”
“We have a serious problem with Andre Keller and his research. Can we meet this afternoon? I have a class this morning and can’t cancel.”
“What time can you get here?”
“I’ll be at your office by 2:30.”
“Want to give me a hint?”
“It’s his data...serious problems. I’ve been over it. We need to talk.”
Amanda stared at her husband. “You look upset. What did Archie want?”
“Archie says he’s found serious problems with Andre’s data. He wouldn’t say what or how it might affect us. Maybe I should call him back. Not knowing will drive me crazy.”
“It’s obvious that he didn’t want to go into it on the phone. We’ll just have to wait.”
Greg looked at Amanda, grasped her hand, and in a soft voice said, “All this is more than we bargained for. Maybe we’ve been naive. Maybe it’s time to get out.”
The Plague Within (Brier Hospital Series) Page 18