by Nick Baker
Price inclined his head quizzically. ‘What happened?’
‘Some of Nexus’ research was exposed as being, er, shall we say … somewhat unethical. Boundaries in medicine are occasionally blurred, and while innovation is essential to achieve enlightenment, there are certain lines that should never be transgressed.’
‘And Nexus crossed one of those lines,’ said Price eagerly.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘What did he do?’
‘My recollections are somewhat hazy,’ Asquith said reticently.
‘This is important, Abram.’
‘Of course,’ he said, nodding pensively. ‘Research in neuroscience is, by necessity, observational. Take the example of a tumour in a particular part of the brain. On the whole, the growth will produce predictable effects based on the anatomy and physiology of the central nervous system. Greater understanding has arisen from animal experimentation, and sometimes, in extreme circumstances, interventional procedures carried out on patients. This work is of fundamental importance to the medical profession, but it inevitably generates considerable antipathy in those who fail to grasp the importance of such research. Unfortunately, some of my, shall we say, more zealous colleagues, have, on occasions, gone too far.’
‘And?’ Price prompted after an uncomfortable silence.
‘What I’m trying to say is that some individuals overstep the mark. As I recall, Nexus was a fanatic who believed passionately in his work. His field of study was the human brain, and, as I’m sure you appreciate, Henry, this is a domain in which observation and animal research can only go so far. I’m afraid that Nexus took the indefensible step of performing research on his patients. He managed to keep it quiet for some considerable time, knowing full well the penalty if his secret were ever revealed. He had to be clever, though, selecting his subjects from the seedier parts of the community. Down and outs, ne’er do wells and the like, the sort of people who are desperate for money but will not be missed. I’m afraid I’m not proud of what some of my colleagues have done in the name of science, but there you have it.’
‘You seem to be a little reluctant to part with all the details, my friend.’
‘With good reason, Henry. I was not party to the hearing that resulted in Nexus’ fall from grace. The trial was conducted behind closed doors. All that emerged was that Nexus was banned from medical practice with immediate effect. He disappeared soon after and, I believe, has not been heard of since.’
‘Surely you must have some idea of what he was up to?’ demanded Price.
‘All I know is based on rumour and hearsay. Nexus was found guilty of the greatest transgression of the Hippocratic Oath, namely that he conducted unethical experimentation on his subjects to further his research.’
‘Come now, Abram, is that all you can tell me?’ said Price in exasperation.
‘I understand your disquiet, Henry, but I’m afraid that if you want to learn more, then I suggest you discuss it with the man who led the enquiry.’
‘And who was that?’ snapped Price.
‘Rather unusually, the chair of the disciplinary panel was not a medical man.’
‘Spit it out, Abram.’
‘The hearing was led by Sir Algernon Caruthers.’
‘Caruthers! Why on earth was he involved? He’s a civil servant, for God’s sake!’
‘Precisely. The government got involved because of the sensitive nature of the hearing. They were worried about the possibility of a backlash against senior figures who had provided Nexus with financial backing.’
Price’s face flared. If the government knew about this, then why was the Council not briefed? He reached out for a decanter on the table next to him and proffered it to Asquith.
‘Not for me, Henry. I’ve patients to see this afternoon.’
Price filled a glass and took a gulp of port to calm his nerves.
‘I presume from your reaction that the Council was not involved,’ said Asquith.
Price set the glass down, ignoring Asquith’s statement. ‘When did all of this happen?’
‘It must have been about twelve years ago, maybe more.’
Price nodded. ‘Yes, that would fit. Do you know who else was involved with Nexus?’
‘No. As I mentioned before, he had some powerful backers; people with the financial clout to provide him with the resources he needed for his research, which is why the government got so windy. I’m afraid I don’t know any more than this, but perhaps it explains why the hearing was so political. I suggest you take this up with Caruthers. He’ll be able to tell you more,’ said Asquith finally.
Price nodded. It was clear that this line of questioning had gone as far as he could take it. He paused for a moment, mulling over what he had just learnt. It was odd that the Council had never got to hear of this as it was just the sort of thing that should have landed on his desk. No matter, it would have to wait. He would track down Caruthers and question him further.
Price picked up the crumpled papers from his lap. ‘Can we go back to the post-mortem?’
‘What else do you want to know?’
‘What do you make of the object the report refers to?’
Asquith smiled uncertainly. ‘That’s what’s so interesting. It seems that whatever it was must have been there for some time. Look at the pathologist’s comments. He says that the regeneration of bone was well established. For this to make any sense, the implant must have been there for some years. Microscopical examination of the tissue taken from the cavity margin revealed a mass of nerve tissue, also supporting this hypothesis. What fascinates me most is the implication that the object had integrated with the nervous system.’
Price looked aghast. ‘Have you ever come across anything like this before?’
Asquith shook his head. ‘Never. Certain materials such as metal plates and screws used for the fixation of fractures are known to integrate with bone, but in my experience, I’ve never seen anything like this before. The pathologist even alludes to it in his report where he states that the object had formed a symbiotic relationship with its host by developing what he refers to as a neural network.’
‘What did he mean by that?’
Asquith rubbed his chin pensively. ‘Hmm. The fundamental structure in the nervous system is the neuron. As a single entity, a neuron shows minimal demonstrable effects when acting in isolation, but when a group of neurons function together as an integrated unit, they exert their effects in many different and tangible ways.’
‘Could you expand on this, Abram? I think it might be important.’
‘Neurons communicate with one another via cellular appendages known as dendrites and synapses, turning an individual cell into a syncytium of many, forming the so-called neural network the pathologist refers to. What’s interesting about this arrangement is the network’s ability to function so much more effectively than the sum of its parts, which is why the ultimate of complex organisms, Homo sapiens, demonstrates higher activities such as intelligence, logic or even abstract thought, not to mention some of the abilities that even physicians can’t explain.’
‘Such as?’
‘There are many things in medicine that we still struggle with. Take memory as an example. It perfectly illustrates just how little understanding we have of the brain’s ability to store both short and long-term data. Yes, we can appreciate where memories are kept from an anatomical standpoint, but just how they are retained at a cellular level is beyond our grasp, which brings us back to the neural network the pathologist was referring to. Nerve cells communicate with one another by synaptic connections that convert electrical activity into chemical messages, thus creating a specific effect on an adjacent cell in the network, and so on. We think that the pattern of synaptic activity within a neural network enables a particular memory to be coded. In this way, the brain retains information and makes it available for subsequent retrieval. A good analogy is the way binary code is used to store data.’
‘I see.’
‘Let me give you an example from your own area of expertise.’
Price raised an eyebrow but passed no comment.
‘Alchemy is still an ultra-secretive realm of study, open to a privileged few amongst the cognoscenti. You’ve previously enlightened the Royal Society with examples of your startling achievements, and although such wonders are beyond medical reasoning, as a rational man, I try to see them in physiological terms. Now, although you may disagree, I believe the abilities that you’ve demonstrated are purely manifestations of the untapped reserves of the human nervous system.’
‘I wouldn’t disagree, Abram, for there’s still much that we don’t understand, but I fear we’re digressing here,’ replied Price. ‘You said earlier that the implant had integrated with the host’s nervous system. Perhaps you’d care to speculate on this?’
‘I fear that this issue is inextricably linked with Nexus. It’s far too coincidental that a talented surgeon like Nexus, a man who was prepared to risk his livelihood in pursuit of some abstruse goal, should vanish not long before this body appeared. I would hazard that these two matters are in some way related. My advice to you, Henry, is to find Nexus as quickly as possible if this is as important as you suggest.’
Price nodded solemnly. ‘I’ll do as you say, Abram. First, I’ll approach Caruthers. Perhaps he can help with Nexus’ whereabouts.’
Asquith got up and made to leave, but Price forestalled him, ushering him back into the chair. ‘Perhaps I could trouble you over one further matter.’
Asquith glanced at his watch. ‘I should be back at my rooms …’
‘It won’t take long, fifteen minutes, perhaps. I’ll make sure that Albright has transportation ready the moment we finish.’
‘Very well. How can I help?’
‘What can you tell me about trephination?’
‘Trephination?’ repeated Asquith, sounding taken aback. ‘Well, it’s a technique that’s utilised to relieve pressure on the brain and is practised when there are signs of bleeding.’
‘Can you tell me how it’s performed?’
‘The surgeon determines the site of bleeding by careful evaluation of the patient’s physical signs. A hole is drilled through the skull at exactly the right point to allow evacuation of a clot and cautery of the bleeding point. Surgery of this nature is usually undertaken in extremis. It is yet another instance when the surgeon’s knife holds sway over the healing ability of the physician.’
‘Yet this method has been practised for centuries and has not always been undertaken for this purpose,’ said Price evenly.
‘You’re right, of course, Henry. Trephination has been performed for medical reasons across the ages, but also for more esoteric and mystical reasons we don’t fully understand. The technique was first conducted on a skull believed to be over seven thousand years old. Anthropologists have found evidence of this practice in skulls unearthed from sites of early civilisations as diverse as Africa, South America and even the Melanesian Pacific Islands.’
‘Do you have any idea why it was performed?’
‘Well, there are several theories, all based on conjecture.’
‘Go on.’
‘Many ancient civilisations based their beliefs on superstition, and within tribal societies, religious chiefs, shamans and healers yielded considerable power over their subjects. It’s quite possible that trephination was carried out for relatively simple medical problems such as headaches or convulsions, conditions that we now treat with pharmacological remedies.
‘Trephination was also carried out as an adjunct to the treatment of various forms of mental illness. Indeed, there are records of it being undertaken for this reason during the Renaissance.’
‘Would you care to elaborate on this?’ Price said urgently.
Asquith raised his eyebrows at the sudden interest. ‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘During the Dark Ages, mental illness was often interpreted as being possessed by evil spirits. Hearing voices, experiencing hallucinations and becoming delusional are all manifestations of mental illness, but consider how less well-advanced societies perceived these symptoms. This behaviour was often construed as evidence that an individual was under the influence of a supernatural entity. Frightened kin would send the possessed for healing, either by exorcism or other ways aimed at banishing the demonic control held over them. Trephination taken in this context does not necessarily seem so ridiculous.’
‘Put like that and I wouldn’t disagree.’
‘During the Renaissance, evolving religious and medical beliefs were vying for attention with long-held superstitions and persistent pagan dogma, but these old attitudes still held considerable sway. Healers still believed that people showing signs of mental illness had stones in their brains and that successful removal of these stones would cure them.’
‘I don’t suppose anyone has ever proven the presence of these mythical stones, but is there any evidence that this treatment was ever successful?’ enquired Price excitedly.
‘It would be very simple to discount this treatment given our present understanding of medicine. On the whole, it seems that claims of this nature were usually made by charlatans. It’s easy to understand why ever more outrageous procedures were devised to treat the poor souls who were thought to be possessed, particularly when you consider that if they died, it was deemed a cure. The healers couldn’t lose!’
‘So am I right in assuming that this procedure never gained credence?’
‘I didn’t say that, Henry. I know of at least one healer who practised in Europe during the early part of the sixteenth century and carried out this procedure with some apparent success.’
Price sat forwards in his chair, eager to hear more. ‘Go on.’
‘He studied medicine at the University of Basel and was adept in many surgical procedures, but especially this one.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘That’s easy, because, in this instance, his work was well-documented. The man was a disciple of the great Swiss physician and alchemist, Paracelsus. They worked together for a while, although they eventually fell out.’
‘What happened?’
‘Paracelsus wanted to publish details of the procedure, and despite his colleague’s resistance, he went ahead and described it in his most famous medical publication, Opus Chirurgicum. Perhaps you’re familiar with it, Henry?’
Price shook his head. ‘I recall much of Paracelsus’ wisdom pertaining to alchemy, but not this. Remind me, what does it say?’
‘Paracelsus wrote a detailed report of the procedure in which his colleague cured a madman of his insanity by the process of trephination and the extraction of a stone from the man’s brain.’
‘What! Where did this happen?’
‘Somewhere in Holland, I believe.’
‘Holland!’ exclaimed Price, who was sitting on the edge of his seat, tightly clutching the arms of his chair. ‘Do you remember the man’s name?’ he demanded.
‘Of course, it’s documented in Paracelsus’ book.’
‘Well?’
‘If I recall correctly, his name was Alfons Piotrowski,’ replied Asquith calmly.
20
THE STONE OF MADNESS
Here Comes the Flood
AURELIA NIGHTSHADE WAS BECOMING increasingly nervous the longer she waited. She knew Lex had returned to the city after receiving several cryptic messages he had left for her at one of her favourite haunts, but that was weeks ago. So why the delay? Maybe Abel had been unable to decipher the code or perhaps Frankl had decided to continue his scheme without her. She was almost on the verge of contacting the obnoxious Frankl when a grubby street urchin knocked on her door and deposited an unaddressed envelope into her mitts. Her heart leapt when she opened the package and a marble-sized pearl tumbled into the centre of her palm.
She laid the jet black pearl down on the kitchen worktop and looked at it in trepidation before she finally dared to touch it while uttering the word she had sha
red with Pearly all those years ago. The pearl shimmered as if in the midst of a heat haze, and as the transformation took place, she marvelled at how a message could be passed on like this; she was a botanist and not an alchemist after all, but just how alchemy could be performed by proxy was beyond even her scientific mind. She craned her neck so that her eyes came within inches of the slowly morphing pearl, feeling the heat emanating from the chemical reaction as the pearl seemed to melt and coalesce into a perfectly formed piece of paper.
She unfurled the tiny note and squinted at the handwritten message. ‘Shit!’ she screeched. Of all the places Frankl should choose, it was the one place she had always refused to go, even daring to risk Pearly’s wrath at her perceived mutiny by mollifying him with her charm. She should have guessed. By implication, whatever Frankl had discovered, it must be something momentous. She vacillated over whether she should go, but in the end, there was no choice; she had to find out.
Two days later, she set off nervously across the city. Even after arriving at the decrepit building on Saffron Hill, she was convinced that the meeting would be cancelled as a result of the continuing rain, but when she found Lex and Abel waiting for her in the vault, she knew that she was seriously mistaken.
Lex led them in silence through an open grille into the fathomless depths, and after a journey scampering through darkness and filth, Aurelia sensed that they were getting close when Lex took a sharp turn into a tunnel highlighted by a flare hovering unnaturally in mid-air. When they emerged into a voluminous chamber, Lex’s torchlight settled on a bulky figure smiling down at them from a dais that towered over a central culvert.
‘Well met, my friends,’ Frankl announced, waving his arms grandly. ‘How convenient that you should travel together to our most honoured meeting place. I’m so glad you could join me. Do come in and make yourselves comfortable.’
‘Hardly comfortable,’ replied Aurelia acerbically, making an exaggerated show of looking about her. ‘I know of this place, Josef. Don’t waste your time humouring me. I’m well aware of what happened here. After all this rain, I assumed you’d see sense and arrange the meeting elsewhere. No doubt you’ll tell us that you have a very good reason for choosing this place.’