Terminal (11 page)

“It was actually very good timing,” Mason said. “Do you know Howard Pace?”

“The aircraft magnate?” John Cabot asked.

“None other,” Dr. Mason said. “Mr. Pace has made a generous donation to the Forbes Center, and we were having a small celebration. But the affair was winding down when you called.”

“Still, your concern is reassuring,” John Cabot said. “So many doctors are distracted by their own agendas. They are more interested in themselves than the patients. My daughter’s illness has been an eye-opening experience.”

“Unfortunately your complaints are all too common,” Dr. Mason said. “But at Forbes it’s the patient who counts. We would do even more if we weren’t so strapped for funds. Since government began limiting grants, we’ve had to struggle.”

“If you can help my daughter I’ll be happy to contribute to your capital needs.”

“We will do everything in our power to help her.”

“Tell me,” Cabot said. “What do you think her chances are? I’d like to know the truth.”

“The possibility of a full recovery is excellent,” Dr. Mason said. “We’ve had remarkable luck with Helen’s type of tumor, but we must start treatment immediately. I tried to expedite her transfer, but your doctors in Boston seemed reluctant to release her.”

“You know the doctors in Boston. If there’s another test available, they want to do it. Then, of course, they want to repeat it.”

“We tried to talk them out of biopsying the tumor,” Dr. Mason said. “We can now make the diagnosis of medulloblastoma with an enhanced MRI. But they wouldn’t listen. You see we have to biopsy it regardless of whether they did or not. We have to grow some of her tumor cells in tissue culture. It’s an integral part of the treatment.”

“When can it be done?” John Cabot asked.

“The sooner the better,” Dr. Mason said.

“B
UT YOU
didn’t have to scream,” Sean said. He was still shaking from the fright he’d experienced when he’d flipped on the light switch.

“I didn’t scream,” Janet said. “I yelled ‘surprise.’ Needless to say, I’m not sure who was more surprised, me, you, or that woman.”

“That woman works for the Forbes Cancer Center,” Sean said. “I’ve told you a dozen times. She’s in their public relations department. She was assigned to deal with me.”

“And dealing with you means coming back to your apartment after ten at night?” Janet asked with scorn. “Don’t patronize me. I can’t believe this. You haven’t even been here twenty-four hours and you have a woman coming to your apartment.”

“I didn’t want to invite her in,” Sean said. “But it was awkward. She’d brought me here this afternoon, then took me to a Forbes function tonight. When we pulled up outside for her to get her car, I thought I’d try to be hospitable. I offered her a beer. I’d already told her I was exhausted. Hell, you’re usually complaining about my lack of social graces.”

“It seems strangely convenient for you to gain some manners just in time to bestow them on a young, attractive female,” Janet fumed. “I don’t think my being skeptical is unreasonable.”

“Well, you’re making more of this than it deserves,” Sean said. “How did you get in here, anyway?”

“They gave me the apartment two doors down,” Janet said. “And you left your sliding door open.”

“Why are they letting you stay here?”

“Because I’ve been hired by the Forbes Cancer Center,” Janet said. “That’s part of the surprise. I’m going to work here.”

For the second time that evening, Janet had Sean stunned. “Work here?” he repeated as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”

“I called the Forbes hospital,” Janet said. “They have an active nurses’ recruitment program. They hired me on the spot. They, in turn, called the Florida Board of Nursing and arranged for a temporary 120-day endorsement so I can practice while the paperwork is being completed for my Florida nursing license.”

“What about your job at Boston Memorial?” Sean asked.

“No problem,” Janet said. “They gave me an immediate leave of absence. One of the benefits of being in nursing these days is that we are in demand. We get to call the shots about our terms of employment more than most employees.”

“Well, this is all very interesting,” Sean said. For the moment that was all he could think of to say.

“So we’ll still be working at the same institution.”

“Did you ever think that maybe you should have discussed this idea with me?” Sean asked.

“I couldn’t,” Janet said. “You were on the road.”

“What about before I left?” Sean asked. “Or you could have waited until I’d arrived. I think we should have talked about this.”

“Well, that’s the whole point,” Janet said.

“What do you mean?”

“I came here so we can talk,” Janet said. “I think this is a perfect opportunity for us to talk about us. In Boston you’re so involved with school and your research. Here your schedule will undoubtedly be lighter. We’ll have the time we never had in Boston.”

Sean pushed off the couch and walked over to the open slider. He was at a loss for words. This whole episode of coming to Florida was working out terribly. “How’d you get here?” he asked.

“I flew down and rented a car,” Janet said.

“So nothing’s irreversible?” Sean said.

“If you think you can just send me home, think again,” Janet said, an edge returning to her voice. “This is probably the first time in my life I’ve gone out on a limb for something I think is important.” She still sounded angry, but Sean sensed she could also be on the verge of tears. “Maybe we’re not important in your scheme of things…”

Sean interrupted her. “It isn’t that at all. The problem is, I don’t know whether I’m staying.”

Janet’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Sean came back to the couch and sat down. He looked into
Janet’s hazel eyes as he told her about his disturbing reception at the Center with half the people being hospitable, the other half rude. Most importantly, he told her that Dr. Mason and Dr. Levy were balking at allowing him to work on the medulloblastoma protocol.

“What do they want you to do?” she asked.

“Busywork as far as I’m concerned,” Sean said. “They want me to try to make a monoclonal antibody to a specific protein. Failing that, I’m to crystallize it so that its three-dimensional molecular shape can be determined. It will be a waste of my time. I’m not going to be learning anything. I’d be better off going back to Boston and working on my oncogene project for my dissertation.”

“Maybe you could do both,” Janet suggested. “Help them with their protein and in return get to work on the medulloblastoma project.”

Sean shook his head. “They were very emphatic. They are not about to change their minds. They said the medulloblastoma study had moved into clinical trials, and I’m here for basic research. Between you and me, I think their reluctance has something to do with the Japanese.”

“The Japanese?” Janet questioned.

Sean told Janet about the huge grant Forbes had accepted in return for any patentable biotechnology products. “Somehow I think the medulloblastoma protocol is tied up in their deal. It’s the only way I can explain why the Japanese would offer Forbes so much money. Obviously they expect and intend to get a return on their investment someday—and probably sooner rather than later.”

“This is awful,” Janet said, but her response was personal. It had nothing to do with Sean’s research career. She’d been so consumed by the effort of coming to Florida that she’d not prepared herself for this kind of reversal.

“And there’s another problem.” Sean said. “The person who gave me the chilliest reception happens to be the director of research. She’s the person I directly report to.”

Janet sighed. She was already trying to figure how to undo everything she had done to get her down to the Forbes Center
in the first place. She’d probably have to go back on nights at Boston Memorial, at least for a while. Janet pushed herself out of the deep armchair where she’d been sitting and wandered over to the sliding door. Coming to Florida had seemed like such a good idea to her when she’d been in Boston. Now it seemed like the dumbest thing she’d ever thought of.

Suddenly Janet spun around. “Wait a minute!” she said. “Maybe I have an idea.”

“Well?” Sean questioned when Janet remained silent.

“I’m thinking,” she said, motioning for him to be quiet for a moment.

Sean studied her face. A few moments ago she’d looked depressed. Now her eyes sparkled.

“Okay, here’s what I think,” she said. “Let’s stay here and look into this medulloblastoma business together. We’ll work as a team.”

“What do you mean?” Sean sounded skeptical.

“It’s simple,” Janet said. “You mentioned that the project had moved into clinical trials. Well, no problem. I’ll be on the wards. I’ll be able to determine the treatment regimens: the timing, the dosages, the works. You’ll be in the lab and you can do your thing there. That monoclonal stuff shouldn’t take all your time.”

Sean bit his lower lip as he gave Janet’s suggestion some thought. He had actually considered looking into the medulloblastoma issue on the sly. His biggest obstacle had been exactly what Janet would be in a position to provide, namely clinical information.

“You’d have to get me charts,” Sean said. He couldn’t help but be dubious. Janet had always been a stickler for hospital procedures and rules, in fact for any rules.

“As long as I can find a copy machine, that should be no problem,” she said.

“I’d need samples of any medication,” Sean said.

“I’ll probably be dispensing the medicine myself,” she said.

He sighed. “I don’t know. It all sounds pretty tenuous.”

“Oh, come on,” Janet said. “What is this, role reversal?

You’re the one who’s always telling me I’ve lived too sheltered a life, that I never take chances. Suddenly I’m the one taking the chances and you turn cautious. Where’s that rebel spirit you’ve always been so proud of?”

Sean found himself smiling. “Who is this woman I’m talking to?” he said rhetorically. He laughed. “Okay, you’re right. I’m acting defeated before trying. Let’s give it a go.”

Janet threw her arms around Sean. He hugged her back. After a long moment, they looked into each other’s eyes, then kissed.

“Now that our conspiracy has been forged, let’s go to bed,” Sean said.

“Hold on,” Janet said. “We’re not sleeping together if that’s what you mean. That’s not going to happen until we have some serious talk about our relationship.”

“Oh, come on, Janet,” Sean whined.

“You have your apartment and I have mine,” Janet said as she tweaked his nose. “I’m serious about this talk business.”

“I’m too tired to argue,” Sean said.

“Good,” Janet said. “Arguing is not what it’s going to take.”

A
T ELEVEN-THIRTY
that night, Hiroshi Gyuhama was the only person in the Forbes research building except for the security man whom Hiroshi suspected was sleeping at his post at the front entrance. Hiroshi had been alone in the building since nine when David Lowenstein had departed. Hiroshi wasn’t staying late because of his research; he was waiting for a message. At that moment he knew it was one-thirty in the afternoon the following day in Tokyo. It was usually after lunch that his supervisor would get the word from the directors regarding anything Hiroshi had passed on.

As if on cue, the receiving light on the fax machine blinked on, and the LCD flashed the message:
receiving
. Eagerly Hiroshi’s fingers grasped the sheet as soon as it slid through. With some trepidation he sat back and read the directive.

The first part was as he’d expected. The management at
Sushita was disturbed by the unexpected arrival of the student from Harvard. They felt that it violated the spirit of the agreement with the Forbes. The directive went on to emphasize the company’s belief that the diagnosis and treatment of cancer would be the biggest biotechnology/pharmaceutical prize of the twenty-first century. They felt that it would surpass in economic importance the antibiotic bonanza of the twentieth century.

It was the second part of the message that dismayed Hiroshi. It mentioned that the management did not want to take any risks, and that Hiroshi was to call Tanaka Yamaguchi. He was to tell Tanaka to investigate Sean Murphy and act accordingly. If Murphy was considered a threat, he was to be brought to Tokyo immediately.

Folding the fax paper several times lengthwise, Hiroshi held it over the sink and burned it. He washed the ashes down the drain. As he did, he noticed his hands were trembling.

Hiroshi had hoped the directive from Tokyo would have given him peace of mind. But it only left him even more agitated. The fact that Hiroshi’s superiors felt that Hiroshi could not handle the situation was not a good sign. They hadn’t said it directly, but the instruction to call Tanaka said as much. What that suggested to Hiroshi was he was not trusted in matters of crucial importance, and if he wasn’t trusted, then his upward mobility in the Sushita hierarchy automatically was in question. From Hiroshi’s perspective he’d lost face.

Unswervingly obedient despite his growing anxiety, Hiroshi got out the list of emergency numbers he’d been given before coming to Forbes over a year ago. He found the number for Tanaka and dialed. As the phone rang, Hiroshi felt his anger and resentment for the Harvard medical student rise. If the young doctor-to-be had never come to Forbes, Hiroshi’s stature vis-à-vis his superiors would never have been tested this way.

A mechanical beep followed a message in rapid Japanese urging the caller to leave his name and number. Hiroshi did as he was told, but added he would wait for the call back.

Hanging up the phone, Hiroshi thought about Tanaka. He didn’t know much about the man, but what he did know was disquieting. Tanaka was a man frequently used by various Japanese companies for industrial espionage of any sort. What bothered Hiroshi was the rumor that Tanaka was connected to the Yakusa, the ruthless Japanese mafia.

When the phone rang a few minutes later, its raucous jangle sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the deserted lab. Startled by it, Hiroshi had the receiver off the hook before the first ring had completed.