Syndrome

by Thomas Hoover

  The only galling thing about the place was that he had to share it with Eileen, who had the top two floors. They had been living in marital purgatory for the past twenty-eight years, ever since she found out about the existence of his natural son. Because of that humiliation, she had refused to give him the one thing he most wanted from her, his freedom. She let it be known that as long as he flaunted a string of mistresses in the cheap tabloid press, she was determined to stay in his face.

  He sighed and took a last sip of his scotch, then set it down and clicked on the phone. Van de Vliet had rented a small villa half a mile down the lakeshore, south from the institute, and he lived alone. Until recently he'd been sleeping in the lab. There was no encrypted phone where he lived, so this had damned well better be brief.

  "Karl, it's me. How did it go today with the new Beta prospect? I contracted her to do some work here, hoping to do my part to get her with the program. I was expecting to hear from you by now."

  "I've met with her and she had a stress test this afternoon in the city. Other than the aortic stenosis, she seems to be in superb shape, which is important. I'm assuming-make that hoping-that she'll come back in the morning and formally enter the clinical trials. I'll let you know if she does. Till that happens, I have no progress to report."

  "All right, but how soon after that do you think you could get started with the Beta matter?"

  There was a pregnant pause, and then. .

  "W.B., we truly need to talk, and maybe not on this line. Just before I left the lab, I ran another simulation on the Mothership to try to figure out what dosage level of Beta enzyme would be safe. But it's like trying to extrapolate backwards, and I just don't have enough data. I'm beginning to wonder if using her to try to create telomerase antibodies is actually such a good idea. It's just so risky. . " His voice trailed off.

  "Karl, everything in life is a goddam risk. I know I'm supposed to be the beneficiary here, but if the antibody concept works out, we might still be able to do something for… Beta One."

  "I'm already doing everything I know how for her. That's a tragedy we're all still in denial about. And now we're talking about risking yet another woman. Yes, maybe it's the answer, but for now I don't know what a safe dosage of enzyme should be. It has to be enough to generate the antibodies, but not so great that. . You know what I'm talking about."

  I sure as hell do, Bartlett thought.I'm looking at the Syndrome myself.

  "Karl, just think of what it could mean if you could get the Beta to work the way the other procedures do. What great medical discovery didn't have a few missteps at the beginning? This is experimental medicine that could change the world. So, dammit, we'vegotto take risks."

  "Why are we having this conversation at this time of night? Over an unsecure phone?"

  "Because we don't have a lot of time," Bartlett growled.

  "We've got nineteen days left on the clinical trials. That's certainly enough time to conclude the procedure on her heart. But if we also try to-"

  "Karl," Bartlett said "it's the Beta we should be focusing on. I'm looking at the Syndrome myself now, though I think I've got the strength of will to handle it. My mind is a lot stronger than Kris. . Beta One's. But I don't want to have to find out. You'vegotto get this fucking problem fixed."

  "If we do use her, I can't begin to tell you how unethical this is about to become."

  Bartlett wanted to remind Van de Vliet that ethics were the least of their problems at the moment, but that wasn't the kind of thing you aired over an unsecure phone connection.

  "Karl, just fucking do it," he said finally. "If she's not under way with the Beta before the end of this week, ethics are not going to be your primary concern. I may have to revisit some of our agreements. Cross me and you forfeit a lot."

  "All right" He sighed. "I know what I can do to make sure she's in."

  "Good. Do it, whatever it is." He now had to warn Van de Vliet about Stone Aimes, but how much information should he provide? He quickly decided to keep it simple. "Oh, and as though we didn't already have enough problems, there's something else I need to alert you about. There's a smart-ass reporter from theNew YorkSentinelnosing around. Yesterday he got to my legal department and asked about Beta One, though he doesn't know her name yet. He somehow found out she was terminated from the clinical trials. Please tell me you haven't been talking to the press behind my back."

  "My God, I've been waiting for this to happen." Van de Vliet sounded like someone who had just had the wind knocked out of him. "You know, Grant once mentioned that a reporter had been pestering him about getting an interview with me."

  "When?"

  "Maybe two months ago, possibly three."

  "First I've heard about it," Bartlett said. "I wish he'd told me. I could have taken steps."

  "It might be the same person. Now that I think about it, I do remember he mentioned the Sentinel. How much do you think he knows?"

  "I'm not sure. The question in my mind is, how did he find out about her in the first place? He's supposedly doing a book about us, Karl, a book about this project."

  "Well, that's the first I've heard about that. Christ! A book!”

  "I think he's just fishing at the moment. But this should be a warning. We've got to keep security tight."

  "What do you know about him? Is he good?"

  Yes, Bartlett thought,he's damned good.The truth is, I'm almost proud of him sometimes.

  "He's the medical columnist for the paper. So happens, I own the building where their editorial offices are."

  "I don't have time to read newspapers."

  "Well, he's good enough that we may have to handle him somehow."

  "What are you trying to say?" Van de Vliet asked, though he sounded like he already knew.

  "What I'm saying is, he's a pro, and I get the strong impression he's hungry."

  "Hungry for money or for fame?"

  "If I knew that, I'd know what to do next," Bartlett said. Probably some of both, he thought, if the kid is anything like his old man.

  "Then why don't we give him an interview? Meet the whole matter head-on. I've always found it better to shape the news yourself rather than trying to stonewall, which usually means a lot of speculation ends up getting published and then you have to correct it after the fact. It's also the best way to find out how much a reporter already knows."

  Idiot, Bartlett thought, that's the worst possible thing we could do. This kid would have your balls for a bow tie.

  "Karl, you've just provided a perfect illustration of why I have my own people handling the press. Some amateur like you starts talking to a guy like that, and the next thing you know, you might as well be on sodium pentothal. Again, his name is Stone Aimes. Remember it. And don't ever even think about exchanging a single word with him."

  "W.B., my experience is that you can only stonewall the press for so long, if they're any good at all. Sooner or later, they're going to find out more than you want them to. The only way to forestall that is to parcel them carefully controlled information to work with. Trust me. I've had a little experience with reporters too. You can't treat them like they're complete dolts. You have to co-opt them, bring them into your confidence, and then convince them that it's in everybody's interest for them to help you rather than harm you. So why don't you let me talk to this guy? We could always start off with the carrot and then move on to the stick."

  "This conversation is making me very nervous, Karl. I don't want you or any of your people within a mile of him. I mean it, goddamit."

  With which Winston Bartlett slammed down the phone.

  "Shit."

  What are we going to do? So far, Van de Vliet hadn't helped Kristen in the slightest. Okay, she wanted to try the Beta, but still. . What happened was a tragedy.

  And who are we kidding-Stone wasn't going to back off.

  Seeing his natural (and only) son again after a lot of years had shaken him up more than he had expected. At some level he wanted to feel prou
d of his own flesh and blood.

  But now. . if anything got published about the Syndrome, the financial consequences could be devastating. Stone Aimes had to be kept at bay long enough to complete the buyout. Unfortunately, it might come to involve force.

  He smiled to think that Kenji Noda would be ready for that challenge.

  But overt violence really wasn't Winston Bartlett's style. At least it hadn't been his style up to now. But he was staring at the horrific possibility of the Syndrome. Starting very soon, a lot of things might have to be handled differently.

  Chapter 17

  Wednesday, April 8

  1O:15a.m.

  Ally was walking down the second-floor marble hallway of the Dorian Institute, feeling a mixture of hope and dread. She’d parked her blue Toyota in the same slot she’d done the day before, and then she’d gone through the security check at the front entrance, which included verifying (again) a solid ID and a check for any kind of camera or recording equipment. Maria did not come along; she was using this as an occasion to have some well-deserved time off with her grandchild. The caregiver was giving herself some care.

  The downstairs foyer had been empty except for security and staff, and she’d paused just long enough to sign in and ask the receptionist at the central desk which room Nina Hampton was in. Was her mother going to be as enthusiastic about being here today as she’d been yesterday? Truthfully, just to see her spirits immediately improve yesterday was a high in itself. But who knew? Maybe shecouldbe helped.

  "I think she's. . Let me check." She'd pulled up a computer screen. "Right. Mrs. Hampton is in room two-thirteen, second floor." She'd looked up and smiled. "Your mother, I assume. She's quite a card. I hear she's doing very well. You can use the elevator over there."

  "I'll take the stairs," Ally had said. They were wide and blue marble and had a kind of splendor as they seemed to literally flow down from the upstairs landing. "I didn't have my run this morning."

  The marble hallway upstairs showed no signs of use. The place felt more like a grandiose palace from another time than a hospital doing cutting-edge research. There was a nurse's station at the far end of the hall and two women were there in blue uniforms. Other than that, however, there was nothing to suggest the Dorian Institute was a medical facility. It could easily have been an exclusive resort hotel. It didn't feel medical or aseptic in any way.

  Stone should see this, she thought. He'd definitely be impressed.

  Driving out this morning, alone, she'd been thinking about him a lot. There was something about him that was different from what she'd remembered over all the years. He was as serious as ever about his work, but she suspected he might possibly be more fun now that he seemed to have lightened up some. He used to be wound extremely tight. In any case, she was finding herself surprisingly happy to talk to him again, whether or not it went any further.

  But was his concern about the mysterious terminated patient justified? And what, if anything, did that have to do with her?

  She was still musing about that when she heard the Spanish-language TV going in room 213, even before she touched the doorknob. That's a good sign, she thought.

  She pushed open the door and strode in. The room was decorated in earth tones, including a lovely brown hand-woven carpet, which had Indian symbols in it, probably Navajo. The bed was a single, but it was faux Early American, not a hospital bed. Again the place felt more like a resort than a research institute.

  Nina was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, and wearing blue silk pajamas underneath a white bed coat.

  "Mom, how're you feeling? You look great."

  It was true. She was wearing a lull complement of makeup and her hair looked like it'd been newly washed. Whatever else was going on, the Dorian Institute was making sure patients looked their best. Do they have a beautician on staff? she wondered. Also, there was a sparkle in her mother's eyes that she hadn't seen since before her father died.

  "How does it look like I'm feeling?" Nina reached for the remote and muted the sound from the TV

  Yes, that old twinkle is definitely there.

  "Gee, I have to say that you seem a lot better than you did yesterday." It was true, thank goodness. She was having one of those super-cogent days.

  She laughed deep and resonant. "Ally, you have no idea. He started in with the injections yesterday evening, after you left. When I woke up this morning, I could remember everything that happened yesterday. I even remembered why I was in this strange place. Try me. Ask me something and see if I can remember it. Go ahead. Ask me anything."

  "Okay." She thought a moment. It should be something easy. "When was Dad's birthday?"

  "March twelfth." She didn't even hesitate. "You'll have to do better than that."

  "How aboutmybirthday? You couldn't remember it last week."

  Nina paused and looked disoriented for a moment.

  Uh-oh, Ally thought,I pushed her too hard.

  "It was October third." A smile abruptly took over her face, as though she was experiencing a live breakthrough. "You were born at Roosevelt Hospital, at three-forty in the afternoon."

  "Mom, this is incredible." She was joyously stunned though it felt like something resembling shock. "It's a miracle."

  "Your mother's responsiveness is impressive," Karl Van de Vliet said as he strode through the open door, startling her. "Ellen will run the first battery of monitoring tests later this morning. Short-term memory and the like. But from all appearances, there's been a lot of tissue regeneration under way overnight."

  "Is. . is this permanent?" Ally asked, not wanting to let herself get her hopes up too soon.And what is he doing?

  "No one can answer that question." He looked at Nina and smiled. "But this is not some drug regimen to trick the brain's chemistry, Mrs. Hampton, you have my word. In Alzheimer's, tissue responsible for the production of certain neurotransmitters dies. What we're doing here is enabling your brain to re-grow healthy, long-lived tissue to replace what has become damaged and destroyed by an excess of the wrong. . Let's just say we're not trying to salvage damaged tissue. We're actuallyreplacingthe dysfunctional tissue in the cortical and hippocampal regions of the brain, so we're workingwiththe body. And you're responding wonderfully." He turned back to Ally. "I've got to get back to the lab now. Come on down when you're ready, and we'll finish the paperwork."

  She started to say she wanted to ask him to linger a moment and answer a few questions, but before she could, he'd disappeared into the hallway.

  "Ally, I haven't felt this alive in months," Nina bubbled on. "Dr. Vee did a minor procedure late yesterday afternoon, using local anesthesia. Then he did something in his laboratory and came back and gave me an injection. Then there was another one this morning. It's supposed to continue for a week or two. Ellen said she'll be giving me one of those little memory tests every day to see if I'm improving, but you know, I already know I can tell a difference. It's just been overnight, but I swear some of the haze is already gone."

  "I'm so happy for you." Ally felt a surge of joy. Already she was thinking about some new trips they could take together.

  "Come over here and sit by me," she said, patting the bed. "I was thinking about Arthur again this morning. If Doctor Vee can do something for your heart, it would be a miracle that would have meant so much to him. It's just so sad he can't be here to see this."

  As Ally settled next to her, Nina reached over and took her hand. "I want to ask you something, darling. Just between us. Why do you think Seth. . Grant is doing this for me, for us?"

  "What do you mean?" Ally was trying to read her thoughts, wondering where the topic was headed. Nina had declared on Sunday that she thought there was something evil about Grant. Now this.

  "I hate to say it about my own son, but caring is not his first nature."

  "Mom, we see him so seldom, do you really think either one of us still understands him?"

  Nina and Grant had never been all that close. In fact, he'd always
been something of a secretive loner within the family, even though he was very much an extrovert with his friends, of which he had many, or at least used to. Ally had left for college just as he reached high school, which meant she wasn't around during his impressionable teen years. And when she came back to take over CitiSpace, he was virtually a fugitive from the family.

  "I remember plenty about him. You think I don't know my own son, Lord help me."

  "Well, Mom, I'm not really prepared to talk about him. It was so upsetting just to see him, I couldn't really take everything in." She smiled and touched Nina's brow, which felt warm and flush. "But I'll tell you something I am taking in. You're really looking great. I don't know what he's doing, but-"

  "Hope, darling. It's the greatest tonic in the world even if there's no good reason for it." She squeezed Ally's hand. "And I do so wish Arthur could be here now. I miss him so much."

  "I know, Mom. He was as much a friend to me as he was a dad" She thought back fondly over her father's many passions and how she'd shared a lot of them with him. One had been the nineteenth-century Romantic poets, particularly Wordsworth and Shelley. Then he'd had his astronomy period and they'd spent a lot of time together at the planetarium. But he took an interest in her passions as well. When at age eight she decided to collect coins, he went to the bank and brought back rolls and rolls of dimes and nickels for her to go through. And during the summertime he'd take her and Grant on the LIRR to Long Beach, every other Sunday, all summer long.

  That was why the pain, the personal loss, of his horrible death had never fully subsided. Perhaps it never would. But the difference between them was that he had finally lost his will to live, whereas Ally found her own will growing all the more with every new adversity she faced. The weaker her heart got, the more determined she was to exercise, whatever it took, to make it strong again.

  "He would be so proud of the way you pulled CitiSpace back from the brink." She let a tear slide down her left cheek, smearing her makeup. "And I'll tell you something else, young lady. You take after us both when it comes to guts. My memory may be slipping, but I remember you were always willing to take chances. And I guess that's what we're doing here now. Both of us. We're gambling on life. In your case, you've got a lot to lose."