The Plague Within (Brier Hospital Series)

by Lawrence Gold

  Marty was speechless. He held her hands, but avoided looking at his wife directly. Each time his eyes wandered to her face, her discomfort made him turn away.

  “We’ll get through this, sweetheart,” Marty said, a plea and a prayer.

  She extended her wrinkled, scaly hands. “Look at me. I can’t stand this...I can’t...I won’t live this way!”

  “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Nothing can change that.”

  A rap on the door made them jump as Harmony, then Beth and Jack entered.

  Sandy turned away involuntarily.

  Beth rushed to embrace her friend.

  Sandy became rigid.

  Harmony approached Sandy and placed her arm around her shoulder then turned her slowly so they could examine her face.

  Sandy stared from Jack to Harmony to Beth.

  “Don’t look at me…please, don’t.”

  Sandy pulled Marty close and buried her face against his chest. Her shoulder shook as she sobbed.

  Sandy was searching for the first sign of the revulsion they must feel. She watched as their eyes moved over her, studying her, but she failed to discern anything but concern. The doctors turned Sandy to face the window and the bright natural light.

  How cruel. They’re touching my face—the coarse skin and thick folds—I can’t stand this she thought.

  Sandy pulled away—“Don’t...please don’t.”

  Jack watched Sandy and Harmony. What could any doctor say? How do we balance kindness and Sandy’s need to know?

  What in the world is she going to face? he thought.

  Harmony sat on the examining table studying Sandy. Her face was a mask of concentration and determination. “First, let me say how sorry I am that this is happening...”

  Sandy interrupted. “What’s happening?”

  Harmony was determined to remain in control, for herself and for Sandy, but hysteria, the shadow demon, lurked nearby, probing for a moment of vulnerability. Harmony bit her lip and continued, “I’m going to lay it all out. I won’t hide anything. You’ll know all that we know and you’ll know what we plan.”

  Sandy sat before Harmony, Beth, and Jack.

  While Harmony talked, Sandy was staring at her as if concentrating enough might explain this horror. “I met Andre Keller at The International Society of Molecular Biology meeting, certainly one of the most reputable of organizations. I heard him present his data on gene therapy in the treatment of autoimmune diseases. We met afterwards and on several occasions later. Since the data looked so promising and Andre had not seen any adverse effects, I agreed to enroll some of my lupus patients in his study.”

  Beth frowned. “Weren’t you concerned about using something as powerful and potentially dangerous as gene therapy for benign disease?”

  “Of course I was concerned. Andre showed me his data. Maybe in retrospect, I wasn’t prepared to really understand it, but he emphasized the absence of adverse effects.”

  Harmony looked at her feet. “I know that I have a problem...I want too much for my patients. I’m too impatient. But don’t even hint that I don’t care.”

  Marty shook his head in disgust. “You care, all right…you care about yourself. Wanting too much for your patients…what a self-serving load of shit that is.”

  Sandy grasped Marty’s hand. “Marty…”

  Marty brought Sandy’s wrinkled hand to his lips and then turned back to Harmony. “Get to it, will you.”

  “It was the PAT0075, the experimental treatment for her lupus. It started great, you know Marty, and you saw how effective it was. Then our first patient, treated three weeks before you were, died. Her name was Zoe, and we just discovered that she died with an unexplained form of rapid aging. We don’t understand how it happened or what to do about it.”

  Marty stood. “My God! How could something like this happen? How could you,” he stared at Harmony, “allow this to happen? You’ll pay for this, all of you!”

  Harmony’s eyes welled with tears. “You can’t make me feel any worse than I already do. All I ever wanted was to help my patients, to make them well.”

  Inexplicably, as Sandy listened to the exchange, she suddenly appeared calm and in control.

  Dispassionately, Sandy said, “You said you had plans? What plans?”

  Jack faced them. “We’re putting together the best people we can find. Some are here right now. We’ll try to understand what’s happened and what we can do about it. Representatives from the company that made the drug and their chief scientist are here, too.”

  Sandy faced Harmony. “The woman who died, when did she receive her treatment?”

  “Three weeks before you received yours.”

  Sandy looked at her hands, and then felt her face. “Look at me. I’m dying inside. I don’t have three weeks.”

  Jack called Brier’s CEO, Bruce Bryant, summarized briefly what had happened, and asked for use of the boardroom. “Brier’s involvement in this fiasco is only peripheral in that a patient in ICU received an experimental drug without our knowledge or permission. I don’t see how this poses much of a legal problem for us.”

  “Maybe, Jack, but I’ll inform our risk management people anyway. You can count on trial attorneys to get us, and our ‘big pockets’ involved if possible. Let me know if we can be of help.”

  Jack assembled the group and they entered the boardroom with its large, highly polished oak table. Stern-faced portraits of the hospital’s historic figures, former CEO’s, Presidents of the Medical Staff, and Chairmen of the Board of Trustees decorated the walls. Even the more recent pictures followed that somber tradition.

  Jack sat at the head of the table. Those present included Beth, Harmony Lane, Ben Davidson, Greg and Amanda Wincott, Andre Keller, Archie Blake and Clarice Henson. Jack introduced everyone, then summarized what they knew at this time.

  Clarice Henson, the medical examiner, caught Jack’s eye and began speaking. “My situation at this meeting is problematic. I’m an officer of the court, but for the moment, I’d prefer to keep the legal issues in abeyance, if I can.” She looked directly at Harmony and Andre. “You two make me sick, but I don’t want any bureaucratic or legal barriers to interfere with finding a solution.”

  Jack turned to Greg Wincott. “Mr. Wincott, I know you mentioned your proprietary issues...”

  Greg raised his palm toward Jack, interrupting. “The humanitarian aspects outweigh any proprietary concerns that PAT might have.” He turned to Andre and Archie. “Don’t withhold any information from this group or from any other individuals who might help us.” He paused for a moment. “For those of you who don’t know PAT, Amanda and I formed the company to search for orphan drugs. We don’t oppose making money, but for us, health issues are paramount.”

  Harmony turned to Andre. “Let’s hear it. What do you think is happening?”

  The group turned its eyes toward Andre.

  Andre paled and then glanced around the room and cleared his throat. “If I get too technical, let me know. I’ll try to keep it simple.”

  Several sets of eyes rolled upward.

  “The first study of the Phase II drug we identify as PAT0035 was an inactive DNA virus vector, like the virus that causes the common cold. We had limited but promising results in the laboratory and in the clinical study. The second trial with PAT0075 used a similar, but activated virus in an attempt to achieve more widespread effect and hopefully permanent improvements. I’ll need to have blood and skin samples on both these unfortunate women for study.”

  Ben turned to Andre. “You noticed no adverse effects with either of these studies?”

  “Just an occasional hypersensitivity reaction that we solved with further purification.”

  Archie Blake looked at Greg and shook his head. Greg nodded in reply.

  Archie held his hand on Raymond’s data book. “Dr. Keller, isn’t it true that your lab noted some unusual findings late in your mice studies, and that you did not report them?”

  Andr
e swallowed deeply. “I just…”

  Archie pointed to Raymond’s data book. “It’s all here.”

  Andre looked at Archie and then at Greg. He spoke in a near whisper. “Some mice, near the end of their lifespan show accelerated aging, but the numbers were too small to reach statistical significance and end of life events are difficult to interpret. We decided not to count them in the study report.”

  Archie shook his head in disgust. “In retrospect, Dr. Keller then, it’s possible that some of your experimental animals showed the same effect?”

  “It’s possible,” Andre muttered.

  “What?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Jack turned again to face Andre. “Dr. Keller, you must have evaluated the risks of using an active virus to deliver specific gene fragments in this way. You must have given consideration into how to avoid widespread infection into all cells and, hopefully, how you could possibly reverse its effects.”

  Andre shook his head. “When we administer a specific gene sequence and the virus carries it into the cells, the process is over, we’ve replaced the genes. Even antiviral medication can’t have an effect, it’s too late. The logic of our treatment is to replace specific genes to treat disease or extend cell life. We keep each subject’s original cells in tissue culture with the thought that some day we might need to reconstitute the cell’s original genetics. Such a process is highly speculative, and no one has ever tried it.”

  “You mean,” Harmony said, a bit excited, “that you could reinfect our patients with a virus that carries their original genes and therefore reverse the whole processes?”

  “In theory, maybe, but nobody’s done it successfully. There’s also the problem of exposing an individual with the same virus. Under these circumstances, the patient could have developed immunity to the virus, like the effect of giving a vaccine. There’s also the problem of trying to insert the gene sequence in the right place.”

  “This is unreal,” Clarice said. “I don’t know what to say. The investigation sounds ill planned to begin with and now we’re talking about acting on even less or nonexistent information.”

  Greg was more than a little annoyed. “I assure you, Dr. Henson, that you don’t get to do this type of clinical trial without conforming to the highest research standards. We’re committed to this at PAT.”

  “Excuse me sir,” Clarice said, looking straight at Andre, “but I live in a world which every day proves how clever and how deceitful people can be in the pursuit of their objectives, and how they manage to ignore the consequences. Whatever happens here or in the future, we must scrutinize all research data. Nobody,” she stared from Harmony to Andre, “is above the law.”

  Beth rose. “What’s going to happen with Sandy?”

  The room remained silent.

  Jack scanned the faces. “We should hospitalize her for observation. We have data to analyze and we’d be in a better position to deal with any complications that might develop.”

  Greg turned to Jack. “I have a suggestion. Professor Archie Blake has years of experience in the basic science of gene therapy and I fully trust his integrity to manage this crisis. He has contacts all over the globe that may be of use to us. He can coordinate all our activities as we try to deal with this unfortunate event.”

  Unfortunate event? Jack thought. The mistakes, the misjudgments, the irresponsibility had raised the guillotine to its ready position, waiting for its opportunity to drop.

  As nobody objected, at least aloud, they adjourned the meeting. They’d meet again in seventy-two hours.

  “Put me in the hospital?” Sandy shouted. “For what? What are you going to do with me? I’m no freaking guinea pig. If I have only a few weeks to live, I’m living them at home.”

  Marty tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away. “Please, sweetheart. If that’s what they need you to do, then let’s do it.”

  Sandy placed her hand on Marty’s cheek, caressed it softly, and then kissed him. “I’ll cooperate in any way possible, sweetie. I’ll come every day and stay as long as necessary, but no way am I moving into Brier Hospital for what may be the rest of my life.”

  Clarice Henson’s office intercom buzzed. “I have a Mr. Ritchie Porter on the line. He says he has information about Zoe Sims.”

  “Mr. Porter, Dr. Henson here, how can I help you?”

  “It’s about Zoe Sims. I need information.”

  “What was your relationship to the deceased Mr. Porter?”

  “We were engaged to be married,” he lied.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we can only release information to her parents. If they’ll authorize it, I’d be glad to talk with you.”

  The phone went silent for twenty seconds during which Clarice could hear an increasing pattern of deep breathing. She jerked backward as she heard. “They killed her. I know it!” he shouted. “And you’re going to sweep it under the table.”

  Clarice remained calm during the sudden vitriolic attack. “Calm down sir. Nobody killed Zoe Sims.”

  “I know all about them...all about Harmony Lane, that bogus drug company, and Andre Keller. They did this,” he said sobbing, “and they’re going to pay.”

  Before she could respond, the line went dead.

  Clarice didn’t know what to do. Who was this guy? Did he really pose some risk to anyone? To be safe, she’d pass on the information and his name to the police, Harmony Lane, and Andre Keller. Better to be safe than sorry.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Angela Brightman had never felt better in her life. Two weeks after receiving the PAT0075, she was, by any measurement, younger and healthier.

  She drove top down in her red BMW convertible to Tovas, one of Houston’s most luxurious spas. Martha, Angela’s esthetician, commented to Angela while giving her client a Swedish massage. “You’re even better than I thought, Angela. You’re positively radiating. Even your muscle tone is better.”

  “I feel wonderful. Even those small wrinkles near my eyes, the crow’s feet, are gone and my skin is smooth and firm.”

  “I know we do good work here, Angela, but this is something else. Tell me what’s going on?”

  “There’s nothing I can say now, but soon we’ll all be part of a health and beauty revolution.”

  Angela rose from the table, wrapped the towel around her, and walked to the closet, picking up several large Nordstrom’s bags.

  “I’ve been back to the junior’s department. I haven’t been there in years, and look what I found.”

  She opened the first shopping bag and held up a floral Lycra mini dress and matching high heel sandals. She then picked up a tiny bag and removed a barely-there, shocking-pink, string bikini.

  Martha stared. “They’re going to arrest you when you appear in that stuff.”

  “If they don’t arrest me, I want my money back,” Angela said smiling and winking.

  Angela returned to her office that afternoon feeling relaxed and even more confident than usual. While she’d always dressed for attention, she noted that more men and a few women had stopped and stared. She loved it.

  She sat at her Bordeaux-Cherry executive desk reviewing the documents for the planned takeover of People for Alternative Treatment. Everything was in place, and with a little luck, Angela would become the new chair of the board. With Andre’s assistance, they’d begin to remodel PAT into their own images.

  Her intercom buzzed. “Ms. Brightman,” said her secretary, “I have Dr. Keller on the line.”

  She pushed the flashing button on her phone. “I was just about to call you, Andre. Everything’s ready to go. Can you believe it, after all this time?”

  “Forget it, Angela, it’s all over. We’re finished...PAT might be finished, too.”

  The words were shocking, almost incomprehensible. Air left her lungs as if she’d just received a strong blow to her abdomen. “What are you talking about, Andre? Everything’s ready.”

  Andre’s sardonic laugh followed. “I almost said
that we have a few ripples in our plans... ripples? More like a tsunami.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “One woman is dead. Another may join her soon. It’s the PAT0075. Two patients who took it had sudden and rapid aging, one going from age thirty-four to late eighty and to the grave in a matter of days. The other is following close behind. They stopped the study. There’ll be investigations, charges, and scandal. If PAT survives, it will be a miracle.”

  “How do you know it was our drug? All kinds of things happen to people all the time.”

  “Both aged almost overnight and one is dead. Dead, Angela.”

  Never one to yield easily, Angela said, “There must be something we can do. We have to salvage something, even if we can’t fulfill our plans now.”

  Andre softened his voice. “Angela...don’t you understand, I gave you PAT0075...”

  “I feel great, Andre. In fact, I’ve never felt better. I know that you wouldn’t give me anything harmful.”

  What’s with this woman? Andre thought.

  “We’ll be working night and day for a cure. I’ll keep you posted.” He paused for a moment, and then as an afterthought said, “I’ve sold all my shares of PAT. If I were you, I’d get myself and my associates out before it’s too late, or you may become persona-non-grata around here.”

  When Andre returned to his laboratory, Archie Blake was sitting at Andre’s desk talking with Raymond Ames.

  “I’ve just updated Ray on our little problem, Andre.”

  Andre stared at Ray, what had he said? What did he tell Archie?

  Archie nodded. “Yes, Andre I know all about it, or most of it. Some of it is in black and white, some I heard from Ray and others. You’ll tell me the rest if you ever want to step foot in a research laboratory again.”

  Andre turned to Ray. “You fucking traitor! I brought you along with me. I gave you the best job you ever had, and you turn on me. You should rot in hell.”

  Archie started to respond, but Ray raised his hand. “No Professor Blake, let me.”