Camden's Knife

by John Patrick Kavanagh

  “Nothing like that at all.” McReynolds laughed.”Much better. You’ll see.”

  He knocked on the door with two sharp raps, waited a few seconds, then repeated. Maybe it was a signal, maybe it wasn’t. After a moment a slight man in his 60’s opened the door and said hello.

  He was dressed in a gray tweed suit and tie, matching the color of his hair and short beard, the reading glasses seeming out of place on his weathered face. His eyes were deep brown and intelligent; eyes Stonetree recognized. The beard was new and the hair a bit thinner, and he was smaller than he recalled, though there was no mistaking who he was.

  “David Stonetree,” McReynolds gestured, “this is Dr. Arthur Camden.”

  He hesitated a second, then grasped the researcher’s hand and shook it steadily. It was the most famous hand he’d shaken in his life and he felt a wave of admiration wash through him.

  “Dr. Camden,” he finally said.”It’s a pleasure to meet you. It’s a little strange, though. I feel like I know you.”

  “Well, I’m sure you know of me David,” he replied with a reassuring smile.”I’m sure Miss Lane has briefed you on more than one occasion on what a deceitful, ungrateful, obnoxious son of a bitch I am. I expect it. It’s like indigestion after too many hot pups at a ball game.”

  He laughed heartily and led them to a group of chairs in the center of his suite then fetched three cans of beer from a small refrigerator, explaining he could call down for something else if they wanted. From the telephone in the bathroom, he said with a motion of his head.

  After opening his can, McReynolds looked at both of them, then directed his comments to Stonetree.

  “Dave, I know all of that stuff you gave me in the interview about the doctor didn’t represent your personal feelings about him, did it?”

  Stonetree was perplexed by the question. He looked to Camden then motioned for McReynolds to elaborate.

  “What I mean is that you were essentially giving me the SUE side of the story, not your side of it. Right?”

  He was still confused.”Who’s side of what? What are you trying to say?”

  “What Robin’s asking,” Camden interrupted, “is do you really think I’m the asshole I’ve been made out to be?”

  “Oh. Well, uh…,” Stonetree stumbled, “I guess I really don’t have my own opinion. I mean, your accomplishments are known to everyone and I’m sure that history will congratulate you, or whatever history does.”

  “And you think I’m an asshole.”

  “Truth be known, they have convinced me that you are indeed an asshole.” He thought a moment.”And a pretty big one at that.”

  “Good for them!” Camden responded, slapping the table.”I like working from an underdog position. Gives you an emotional advantage when you walk up to the plate. You know the crowd is with you.”

  “Dave,” McReynolds said, “I know you probably think this is strange but I want you to listen to Dr. Camden’s story. That’s all I ask. Just listen. If you don’t buy it, you were never here. If you do buy it and want to get involved…it’s your decision. But listen with an open mind.” He paused.”And promise me it won’t leave this room.”

  “I don’t understand. Buy what? Get involved in what?”

  “Dr. Camden and I had a long talk when I was preparing the article.”

  “Well I figured that. I could tell by your expressions when we were talking that you’d heard a different story.” He turned to Camden.”Not that the different story might not be partially or completely true.”

  “Do you believe everything they’ve told you about the doctor?”

  “I suppose it has to be taken with a grain of salt. There are obviously some personalities…strong ones involved. But it’s all secondhand to me. I only know what I’ve heard.”

  “So you’ll give the doctor a fair hearing?”

  “Sure. I don’t know what that’ll prove, though. The article’s out. I can’t do anything.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The first part of Camden’s story wasn’t surprising, in fact tracking fairly closely what he believed to be the probable truth. Camden said it was pretty clear once Lane was given Media that Picard was grooming her for bigger things, though the swiftness of her acquisition of Pharmaceuticals was a shock. It was also clear that no one would interfere with his plans for his protégée.

  Picard had no children and his wife had been dead for years. In Lane he saw a reflection of himself as a younger man - the brashness, the arrogance, the drive - a woman he could relate to. He had nothing to consume him but his work and she was a kindred spirit, so if he was going to share his empire with someone, why not with this intelligent, appealing female rather than another middle-aged man? One didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out.

  As her competitors, real or imagined, began to fall by the wayside, it became evident to Camden that his tenure was in jeopardy, too. He presented the perfect test case for her, a chance to see if she could disrupt Picard’s personal as well as professional relationships.

  The doctor had approached his friend to voice concerns about the rumors he’d heard that Lane might be given the reins of Pharmaceuticals. Instead of keeping counsel with Camden as he always had in the past when the researcher advised him, Picard launched into a tirade about how everyone resented her because she was a woman; everyone was afraid of progress and change and no one knew her managerial skills as well as he. The decision as to who ran the divisions was his and his alone. If he didn’t like it, he could submit his resignation.

  Camden was shattered by what he felt was both a personal and professional betrayal. He’d contributed a great deal to SUE’s success, and to be dismissed in such an offhand fashion was devastating. He didn’t resign but knew eventually he’d be shown the door, voluntarily or otherwise. The anger and passion in the chairman’s voice and the ruthlessness of his suggestion made it clear Lane could have anyone’s head on a silver platter; she need only ask.

  Instead of sloughing off, he decided to make the most of his remaining time at SUE. Still in possession of Picard’s mandate to pursue the path he wished, he shifted the focus of his work to a cure for CYD. He could never obtain another set of the bespoke equipment and instruments he’d assembled at the Plaza and the opportunity to chase after the solutions to some of his theories became irresistible. Before his ouster he’d filled a notebook with observations, sketches, and formulas on the both the questions of cures and another avenue he’d kept private. He’d felt he was verging on some important breakthroughs when the rug of his career at SUE was pulled out from under him. This time the story was not the same one Lane had presented.

  She was promoted to group vice president much more quickly than he’d anticipated. In fact, it happened a week before the morning of the accident involving the fire and the destruction of the four ounces of CY6A4. When he and a few others were called to Lane’s office to report to her on the incident, he’d seen the writing on the proverbial wall.

  After the briefing, all but the scientist were dismissed. Lane asked for an update on the major projects under way in R & D then instructed she didn’t want money devoted to cure research and any underway be terminated earlier than tomorrow. He protested. She said she had Picard’s complete support for any changes she wanted to make in R & D and expected his complete cooperation. He continued to protest, urging her to reconsider because he felt close to a breakthrough; with another few months of work he might be able to save millions of people inconceivable amounts of pain and anguish and save others from early and painful deaths.

  He’d never forget Lane’s refusal: “This is a business. We are a corporation responsible to its shareholders, of which you are the fifth largest. We are not a charity nor a church. If you disagree, I’d suggest the seminary.”

  He was in an untenable position, having to give up both his autonomy and his searches, not to mention his self-respect if he remained. Rather than prolong the inevitable he offered his resignation which Lane wa
s prepared for in advance.

  She had a copy of his contract in a file on her desk and an opinion from Legal as to what consequences Camden’s resignation would generate. He’d be awarded an extremely generous separation agreement based on his contracts with the company, conditioned on a few additional humiliations. He couldn’t work for another firm for 12 months, a condition to which he’d agreed when he was put in charge of R & D, and would continue to be paid his sizable salary each month for a year, along with quarterly sums connected to residuals linked to anticipated Febrifuge sales, culminating with a one-time parachute payment that he knew would measure in billions of dollars more.

  All of his current research, including a pair of notebooks—one devoted to science, the other a diary—were at that moment being seized by Security, as was for insult value a shadowbox containing five of his collection of knives.

  The covenant-not-to-compete would expire in a few weeks. He’d been in the city 48 hours. There was a project he wanted to undertake.

  From his bearing, voice and facial expressions Stonetree knew that every word he said was true. He was amazed and couldn’t believe Camden was so calm. Why hadn’t he just strangled Lane and done the world a favor?

  “Oh, don’t doubt for a second that it didn’t occur to me,” Camden said as he bugged his eyes and pretended to choke himself.”But I had to be rational about it. First of all, Pierre wasn’t going to intercede. I called him later that afternoon and all he wanted to know was if I resigned voluntarily. He said we’d talk about it when things cooled off but neither of us ever got around to making the call. It was really like a divorce. Have you ever been married, David?”

  “No.”

  “It was like a divorce. They had a valid claim on all of my research, maybe even that the cutlery was contraband. I figured I’d continue my work independently because the freedom it afforded. I know this might sound Machiavellian, but it came down to being comfortable and screwed or uncomfortable and screwed. I took comfortable.”

  “I understand completely,” Stonetree nodded.”This is quite different from what I was told but I believe you.”

  “I found out later that Pete probably knew about the whole thing in advance.”

  The three sat silently for a moment then McReynolds stood and paced, tossing his empty beer can up and down.”So what do you think of Dr. Camden now?”

  “Well,” Stonetree began, looking at the researcher, “I certainly sympathize with you. I agree. You did get screwed.” He turned to McReynolds.”But Robin, I still don’t get it. Why tell me?”

  “Doctor, could you finish the story for him?”

  “I’ve been working on the cure problem. Actually, both the cure problem and the symptom reversal issues, along with another protocol related to the SR angle. Most of it has all been theoretical as I simply don’t have the technology I had at SUE. I think I may be closing in on the solutions but there’s big holes in all three equations and I need my old notes to fill them in. I’ve got parts but I have to see the notes, my early impressions on certain items. Those I think will complete the puzzles.”

  “This is a big, big story,” McReynolds said excitedly.”This is a major event. This is Nobel Prize. This is Pulitzer Prize. We’re talking about a cure for a major killer. You have to get involved in this, David. This is important.”

  “I realize it’s important and all that, but I’m still baffled about what all of this has to do with me. I don’t have access to these notes if that’s what you’re getting at. I don’t know where they are and even if I did... I don’t know. What do you want from me?”

  “We need your help, Dave. We need it bad.”

  “This is crazy.” He sighed.”Look, just tell me what you want, okay? If I can help, fine. If not, that’s it.”

  “Are you willing to get involved?” Camden asked.”It could…I should say would…cost you your job if any of this got out or if we were caught. On the other hand, the rewards could be enormous. Emotionally, financially and otherwise.”

  “Why don’t you clarify what you want and then we can talk about rewards. I’m probably in too deep already.”

  “Let me put it all on the table,” McReynolds said.

  “Please.”

  “Dr. Camden needs to get at his notebooks. We don’t know where they are but that really isn’t important right now. What’s important is that the notebooks still exist.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve known Trisha a while longer than you have,” Camden answered.”She wouldn’t destroy them. She figures they’re worth too much. And in a roundabout way, she’s right. To both of us.”

  “Anyway,” McReynolds continued, “Dr. Camden left something behind in the Exec Laboratory....”

  “I’m the only one who knows this,” the doctor said.”And I haven’t told Robin and I won’t tell you. You’ll have to just assume for now that it’s something Trisha would like to get her hands on. She’d be willing, I think, to trade my notebooks for what I have to offer. Think of it as some pictures of her with her pants down. Something like that.”

  “So why don’t you just call her up and tell her you want to make a deal?”

  “I can’t trust her unless I can deal with her at arm’s length. If I told her what I had, she might be able to find it. She’s no fool. She may be a lot of things, but not a fool.’’

  “So you want to steal something from the Plaza to ransom your notes?”

  “Something like that. Actually just borrow it until I can look at the notes.’’

  “I understand. But what you’re saying is that you want to take something and use it to shake SUE down. If I might be moral for a minute, what gives you the right to do that?”

  “What gives him the right,” McReynolds growled, “is that he may have a cure for CYD and SUE ain’t going to let him do anything about it. They don’t want a vaccine. They don’t want a cure. They want status quo. They want kids to keep dying so they can make more money. If you want to talk morals, why don’t you go look in the mirror first? Kids dying. Our friends dying. You call that moral, Dave? I don’t. It’s bullshit. It’s evil, sick bullshit.”

  Stonetree was stunned by his anger, so he stood and stretched, then walked to the refrigerator and removed three more cans of beer, returning and sitting beside Camden.

  “Let’s go over this once more. You think you have a cure for CYD and need a formula or something from your notes that are somewhere in the bowels of the Plaza, location unknown. You do, however, know the location of some…” he smiled, “…compromising photos of Trisha.”

  “That alone is worth the money!” McReynolds interjected. They all laughed, Camden the hardest.

  “If you can get your hand on these photos, you’ll let her have them back for letting you look at those notes of yours. A cure for CYD is discovered and we all live happily ever after. Is that about it?”

  “That is precisely it.”

  “And there’s no profit motives involved?”

  “Of course there are. There’s a profit motive in almost everything we do. I don’t have to tell you what that formula would be worth, or what it would be worth to keep it off the market.” He looked at McReynolds.”By the way, I don’t agree with Robin that Lane or anyone else wants to see people die. She has a business and she made a judgment call. I doubt she thinks there’s a formula for a cure or something close to it in my notes. Valuable information? Yes. But not something that big.”

  “And profits.”

  “If I’m right, certainly the money would come in by the truckload.” He paused and tugged at his beard, a look of serenity transforming his face into that of a weary but wise philosopher.”But I’ve got plenty of money now. More than I could ever give away. I like my house but it’s actually too big for us now that the kids are gone. You can see by the way I look that clothes have no meaning to me. I drive a five-year-old Mercedes that’ll outlast me. I’m wealthy as it is, and being a mega-billionaire won’t make me a better person.”<
br />
  “So what will?”

  “The accomplishment. The satisfaction. You know, that feeling you’ve done more than just take up space on the planet. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Stonetree thought a moment.”I guess so. But I’m not sure about any of this. All I see is getting fired, maybe getting thrown in jail so you can be one up on my boss.”

  McReynolds hooted and jumped to his feet.”You know Dave, you’re really a piece of work! This man has a line on some tremendous medical breakthroughs and you’re worried about a shit job you don’t want anyway. Damn it! I’m sorry I called you. I sure had you figured wrong. You’re no better than Lane. You ought to get together. I’d love to see your children.”

  Stonetree could feel his face flush and his ears begin to ring. He felt dizzy, almost nauseated as he looked to Camden, who glanced away. He felt like running and hiding, never more embarrassed than at that moment.

  McReynolds had hit him dead center. Had he become that callous in such a short time? Had he really fallen for the lies? Was he becoming a clone of Lane, another heartless cog in the SUE machinery willing to sacrifice actual human lives so he could collect a paycheck twice a month a little while longer? Had he sunk that incredibly low? Was it possible to sink that low?

  He started to stand up but was knocked back into his chair by a sudden pain in his chest. This is it, he thought. This is the end. Sitting in a hotel room with a great scientist and an old friend, ignoring their pleas on behalf of humanity just so he could pay his electric bills or subscribe to a few more magazines he didn’t have time to read.

  Was he really that loyal to SUE or Lane? What would Steve Riley have done if he hadn’t died? What would Sharon do if she were in his position and he was the one with CYD? What would a feeling, flesh-and-blood human do? Not a drone, but a real human being with real feel-ings, real emotions and real compassion.

  He thought again about the blind man selling newspapers in London, then about Sharon the morning after they’d returned. He thought about two close friends lost to CYD, one by its hand, one by her own.