The Proteus Cure (7 page)

He closed his eyes. It had passed. Now he was shaking.

Sheila guided him to a chair in the waiting room. She wiped the coffee off his hands. He felt numb.

“Why don’t I get you a tranquilizer? It will help. It’s been a hell of a day for you. Anyone would flip out.” She smiled. “I know you would have stopped before you hurt him. Right?”

If she only knew.

He glanced at her. Was that a trace of fear in her eyes? Fear
for
him, or fear
of
him? A world of difference. He liked Sheila—a lot. Looking at her, talking to her … had he just screwed that up?

“I’m okay now. I really don’t like to take pills.”

“Okay. You want a new coffee?”

“No, I’m revved enough. I’m really sorry you had to see me like that.”

She swatted her hand at the air. “That’s nothing. You think I’ve never seen a parent go nuts? Happens all the time.”

He hedged but finally admitted, “I’ve had my doubts for a while about Coog being my son.”

“Do you really think he’s not yours?”

“He used to look just like me. Same round face, same dark hair. A mini-me. That’s what the old photos show. But nowadays …” He shook his head. “You’ve seen him.”

“Lots of children change as they mature.”

“Yeah, well, when he got sick, Rose couldn’t deal with it. She stayed away from the hospital as much as she could. I was all he had. He was all I had. I didn’t realize until then how much he meant to me. I was with him day and night, treatment after treatment. They told me he was going to die and you know what I did?”

She shook her head.

“I went out and bought him spelling flashcards. I wasn’t going to let him just lie there and wait for death. It’s like that book,
On the Beach
by Nevil Shute. Ever read that?”

She shook her head again.

“All the countries blew each other up and the radiation killed everyone. Except in Australia. It was far enough away so they didn’t get sick for a while. They knew they’d die once the dust blew their way but they just kept on living their lives. They planted gardens and went to school and worked. They refused to lie down and wait for death. Because what kind of life is that?

“So I bought him flashcards. We did spelling and writing and some math. I wasn’t going to give into death. Not in front of him. I’d go in the men’s room and cry my eyes out, because I knew the end was coming. But I kept making him live like he was going to be around forever.”

“And he did live,” she said.

“Yeah. He lived. Tethys stepped in with their miracle. Soon after that, Rose left us. So he’s all I’ve got. I don’t have the big life-altering job you do. I wish I did. I’m just a cable guy. I’ve made my whole life about that kid in there.” He pointed down the hall. “If Coogan’s not really my son, I have nothing.”

“No, you still have a son. Remember, you’re all he has too. If he used to be a mini-you, then inside he still is. I really wouldn’t worry about your paternity, Paul. I’m sure he’s yours. We’ll run some tests, though. Okay?”

He held her hand. A bold move, but he meant it as a friendly gesture. Just a friend. He squeezed.

“Thank you so much. I don’t usually babble on like this, and I hardly know you. Sorry I got all emotional. You must think I’m a wimp.”

She turned his hand over with her thin, manicured fingers.

“With hands like these? Nothing wimpy here.” She rubbed his hand with her thumb. “Ready to see him?”

“You bet.”

They got up and started walking. She led the way.

Quite a woman. He hoped, prayed, that she was right about Coogan. The DNA would prove it. He’d just have to keep his fingers crossed.

Gerald Kaplan knew he was rip-roaring drunk. He sat on his tan recliner on his tan rug in his stupid neutral-colored living room. Except for the big, flat-screen TV, not one extravagance. Place had no character. Just like him. Mister Invisible. Except he had made the biggest medical discovery of all time! Of
all
time. Wished he hadn’t. It was blowing up in his face. Damn. He stared up at the stucco ceiling to stabilize himself, keep the room still.

Hardly ever drank, and hadn’t been drunk since college. But tonight … exception. Big-time exception.

Trouble was, the only booze in the house was scotch. Didn’t like scotch. Tasted medicinal. Kept it around for company. But he’d forced some down tonight. Hell, he’d forced down lots.

Didn’t help in the way he’d hoped. No surprise about the queasy stomach. Couldn’t walk straight, couldn’t see straight. But he hadn’t been able to pickle his brain enough to blot out the memory of that lady in the examining room this morning, that Tanesha Green.

Poor woman.

Still felt the shock of seeing her bizarre pigment changes, hearing of her experimental cancer therapy, and knowing in a frightening and infuriating epiphany what had happened, and what was taking place inside her.

All because he, Gerald Kaplan, M-freaking-D, Ph-goddamn-D, had developed the stem-cell therapy that had cured her. All by himself. No help from anyone, thank you very much. His own stinkin’ lab. Those were the days. A private lab, employees, a wife … things had been pretty damn good for Jerry Kaplan. Yeah, he’d been Jerry back then. Pulled out all the stops. Big house, a Porsche … he researched so many hours that his wife “had to seek out affection.” He banged down his glass. Fuck her. Seek out affection. Hah!

“I’ve been living just fine without affection since you left, Loretta!”

Whoa, he’d made himself dizzy.

The therapy. He’d found venture capital and then he was even richer. But then the shit hit the fan. Loretta left him, then the disturbing side effects in the KB26 clinical trials. Similar to the side effects Tanesha Green was experiencing. He ran test after test. Conclusion: Yes it cured the incurable but it could be devastating to the human genome.

So he pulled it from trials. Then the money dried up and next thing he was working in a city clinic. But he had picked himself up over the years, got into a group practice. He’d thought his therapy dead, gone, erased from the face of the Earth. No harm done.

Obviously not.

Someone had stolen it,
looted
it.

He didn’t know who that someone was, but he was pretty damn sure of the middlemen.

Had their number. Thank God he’d looked it up earlier. No way he could have found it in his present state.

He was going to call them. Goddamn call the scheming, no-conscience bastards right now and tell them that the chickens are coming home to roost and that the inevitable global opprobrium and financial ruin to follow will be but a fraction of what they deserve.

He reached for the phone but his hand stopped halfway.

Those same chickens would roost on him too. Yeah, he’d abandoned the therapy as soon as he knew its side effects, but he’d been the innovator. His name was on the patent.

No.

He withdrew his hand. No call.

The gun he kept in the closet for emergencies—maybe that was his best way out. Turn them in, then blow his brains out. But he felt too woozy to haul himself off the couch.

Scared too. Too scared to kill himself or turn anyone in.

Best to keep his head down, and make plans to leave, disappear. Maybe even pray … pray that he wouldn’t be dragged into the coming shit storm.

Gerald sobbed.

If only they’d left it alone, no one ever would have known.

He grieved for the poor, poor woman who had no idea what lay ahead of her.

Abra watched Billy drive away. He was tipsy but it was only a quarter of a mile home. Still, she wished he hadn’t drunk so much. Abra sighed. She wished a lot of things.

Like this problem with the VG723 swap. Kelly Slade’s symptoms might well bring Tethys tumbling down despite what Billy had said. “Under control,” he’d insisted, but she knew he sometimes skewed the truth to protect her. Heart of gold. Such a good boy.

She remembered how bleak life had been before he was born. So lonely. The broken bones and the pain, those she could handle—but the loneliness … sitting on piles of pillows with her dolls … never allowed to play with other kids. She was like a China doll, Mama said, and if she ever played rough she’d smash like a teacup.

Someone might fall on you and you might die. Then we won’t have a little girl anymore.

A long, painful, lonely childhood until, when she was eleven, dear Billy was born.

She squinted into the distance until she saw his car pull safely into his driveway and his garage. He’d made it home safe and now she could relax.

Sheila was used to long work days but this had been a doozy. The great news about Sean, the terrible news about Kelly, Bill’s mood, the “date” with Paul, Coogan getting hit … and then the ER and Paul’s fit about his paternity.

God, what a day.

She managed to wash her face, brush her teeth, and stumble toward her bed. She stripped off her clothes, threw them on the floor, then donned one of Dek’s old sweatshirts. Within minutes she felt sleep pulling her into its embrace …

What was that?

She popped her eyes open and looked around. Nothing. The moon shone bright through the skylight and lit up the room. Empty. The noise had come from downstairs … a soft sound, but one that didn’t belong, something that had set off her internal alarm and roused her.

Was someone in the house? She sat up in bed and tried to catch her breath. Listening.

But then no more sounds. No footsteps, no creaking floors. A full five minutes went by. Still nothing.

Did she imagine the whole thing?

She lay back and stared at the ceiling, listening. Nothing. Only her rapid heartbeat.

Slam!

The kitchen door shut. No mistaking that noise. She grabbed the cordless phone to call 9-1-1 but stopped. Tethys security would be quicker. They patrolled all night and could be here within seconds.

She dialed the main number, hit 4 for security, then 1 for emergency.

Shen Li, the chief of security for Tethys, answered.

“Thank God you’re there, Mr. Li. This is Sheila Takamura from the gardener’s house. I heard someone in my house. I think he left but I don’t know. Please come over.”

“I am nearby, Doctor Takamura. Making rounds. I will be right there. No more sounds?”

“I don’t know. No sounds, but maybe he’s hiding. I’m afraid to leave my room.”

“I am approaching front of your house now. I hang up and call you back after I search outside. You stay in room.”

Sheila already felt better and held the cordless to her like a security blanket.

Minutes later Li called back. “All clear outside. I will search inside. Kitchen door is unlocked. Am coming in.”

Unlocked? Then someone had been here. Could still be here. Sheila huddled deeper under her blankets.

“All clear down here, Doctor,” he called up to her. “May this one come up for search?”

“Well, I didn’t hear anyone come up the stairs.”

“He could go up while you asleep. Maybe he very quiet. I come up?”

God, he was right. The burgular could be hiding anywhere. Right in this room, even. She fished her jeans off the floor and turned on the light.

“Come on up.”

Shen Li appeared in her doorway. He nodded hello but said nothing. He had a strange presence. His manner was humble and deferential, though his compact frame was thickly muscled. And his eyes … his onyx eyes were arresting in the most literal sense: They stopped people in their tracks.

Li checked all the upstairs bedrooms and closets in minutes.

“All safe here too. No prowler. No danger here tonight.”

“Thank you. I guess I was just being paranoid.”

“No, someone
was
here. Door unlocked, branches in bush broken. Not paranoid. But he gone now. Anything missing?”

She walked downstairs and started looking around. “My laptop. Oh, no. All my stuff was on that.”

Well, at least they’d left the PC. She scanned the rest of her home office, then walked into the kitchen.

“My purse! Oh damn, it was right here on the table.”

“You have lot of cash in wallet?”

“I think about fifty dollars. But my camera was in it. I need that camera. I had pictures on it I can’t get back.”

“Life you cannot get back. Camera is replaceable, no?”

“You’re right, of course.” He had a wonderful way of putting things in perspective. “Thank you.”

“Most likely man who want money for drugs take your things but I will call police and take care of this. They investigate. What was value of items?”

“I guess about $2500. I can file a claim with my house insurance.”

He nodded. “Good night then. I bring police papers to you tomorrow for signing. You rest now, Doctor Sheila. This one will keep eye on your house, make sure no one comes back.”

“Thank you again.”

She led him out, turned the deadbolt and went upstairs. She turned on her bedroom light, took off her jeans, and stared at the ceiling, listening.

“ ‘You rest now, Doctor Sheila,’ ” she said in Li’s accent. “ ‘This one will keep eye on your house.’ ”

She smiled and suddenly her exhaustion outweighed her fear.

Sheila awoke early and downed two cups of coffee before she headed to her office.

When she got in she called her bank and all the credit card companies. She walked over to get a new Photo ID. Luckily her image was stored in they system. The way she looked today her photo would have been a mess.

The business done, she called Abra to see if she was free for lunch.

The phone rattled as Abra said she was doing some work in her clinic today and couldn’t get away.

“How about dinner?” Abra offered. Rattle, rattle.

Sheila wanted to see her sooner. She needed to talk to someone and get this all off her chest.

“What if I pick us up lunch from the caf and bring it to the clinic?”

Abra thanked her and said she’d see her at twelve on the dot. Sheila didn’t need Abra’s order. She knew it by heart: a BLT with mayo on whole wheat bread, ruffled chips on the side, and a can of Sprite.