Mark of the Beast (27 page)

*   *   *

“Congratulations,” said Abramhoff, calling Dickerson hours after the nationally televised California news conference.

“Well, thank you. I did well, didn't I?” inquired Dickerson, feeling self-assured.

“So what do I call you now, the California medical director?” asked Abramhoff jokingly.

“I don't know whether that's an official title yet,” Dickerson cautioned.

“Is that a paid position?”

“Yes, it is.”

“If I may be bold to ask, what's the pay?”

“You know, they haven't told me yet, and that's the truth. The governor assured me that it's a paid position when I jokingly asked him the same question.”

“Dr. Achampi thinks the task might be daunting for you, but I have every confidence you can do it.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence. I think we can handle it here. They said that the state will most probably assume the salaries of all my technical and logistical support. I believe by that, they mean the salaries of my entire staff.”

“That's great.”

“Before I forget—the BASICS study, how is it coming along?” asked Dickerson, letting out a mild-mannered cough to deflect attention from aggrandizing.

“Oh, we're almost finished with all the preparations. Chicago has been chosen as the central hub for the study. However, we have to share the spotlight with London, Singapore, and Brazil.”

“Why include Singapore?”

“Why not, since they have that billion-dollar research complex?” Abramhoff said.

“Oh, yes, I know,” Dickerson agreed.

Within weeks, the Illinois House passed legislation requiring mandatory testing, becoming the second state to do so. The bill was sent to the governor. Illinois was followed almost simultaneously by Texas, Pennsylvania, Florida, Alabama, North Dakota, Wyoming, Georgia, and North Carolina.

Illinois, as expected, picked Abramhoff as their chief medical officer, while the rest of the states, on a recommendation from Dickerson, chose their respective state health commissioners as coordinators.

 

3

B
RIGHAM AND
W
OMEN'S
H
OSPITAL
of Boston, Massachusetts, the oldest teaching hospital of Harvard Medical School, located on Huntington Avenue along the T-line, had always attracted pioneers in medical research and therapeutic innovations.

Dr. Dominic St. John, chairman, Department of Hematology Oncology, who specialized in newer and more innovative therapies for leukemia, was one of those pioneers. An intelligent and highly educated professor, he prided himself on being neatly dressed at all times. The trendier the fashion in men's suits, the more likely that suit would be found on Dr. St. John's body.

His laboratory coats had his name beautifully monogrammed over his left chest. He spoke fluent French and English with such ease that one would think he was a French citizen, educated in Europe, even though he was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and educated at Harvard. A soft-spoken gentleman when he lectured, he had a temper that was memorable throughout the hospital.

Dr. St. John had been working on acute lymphoblast leukemia, a very difficult blood cancer, especially difficult when detected in children, that was not easily curable, unlike most of the other blood cancers. One of Dr. St. John's patients, a seventeen-year-old girl, Ramona, who had lymphoblast leukemia, was recently suffering from recurrent anemia. She had required multiple blood transfusions for the anemia.

“How is Ramona recovering?” asked Doc St. John, as he was commonly known.

“Not so good,” the senior oncology fellow said as they led the oncology team along the hallway of the seventh floor oncology ward toward the nursing station. “You know she also has early Crohn's colitis, and that makes her transfusions difficult. She continues to lose blood through her bowels.…”

“I already know,” Doc St. John said. “Just tell me something: how many transfusions has she gotten from this hospital?”

Fumbling for words, the fellow finally responded, “I truly don't know.” He realized immediately that he should have checked the old records last night before this morning's rounds.

“Seventeen,” Doc St. John answered his own question. “What's her HLA status?”

“She was positive,” the nurse said when she sensed hesitation by the fellow and the residents as they gathered at the nursing station.

“What percent of Crohn's patients with leukemia are HLA positive?” Doc St. John asked, looking at the group as he adjusted his glasses.

“About sixty-five percent,” blurted out the ever-loquacious senior resident.

“Don't ever give me that ‘about' response again,” Doc St. John said, slamming the chart on the desk as he looked intently at the resident.

“Seventy-five percent,” the oncology fellow said.

“Good,” an unflinching Doc St. John said. He nodded his head. “So, what's the story with Ramona?”

“Ramona, after her last transfusion, which was her eighteenth, had the HLA test redrawn,” the senior resident started, quoting from the morning report. “It is now negative.”

“So, what do you think happened?” asked Doc St. John, looking around for some intelligent answer.

“I think the multiple chemotherapy treatments must have altered some of the genetic sequences in her chromosome,” the resident said.

“That's a possibility,” Doc St. John responded, without appearing upset, “but you must realize that most of those alterations are for nonsense coding, and that invariably results in new cancer.”

Dr. Arvin Rupert, an attending physician at the department, who happened to be at the nursing station seeing a patient, became involved in the discussion. He had published extensively on genetic mutations.

“What I think,” Dr. Rupert said, “is that we have to look closely at the multiple chemotherapies, yes, coupled with the blood transfusions that she has received. I wonder whether they have in some way altered or replaced specific loci on her chromosome.”

The residents and the fellow cleared a path between Doc St. John, who was standing near the patients' charts, and Dr. Rupert, who was still sitting at the station desk, his patient chart still open in front of him.

“That's in line with the current theory,” Doc St. John said. “Basically, we have to explore whether allo-immunization theory is applicable here, or whether in some way she has become unresponsive or immune to the Crohn's disease antigen through alloimmunization of the HLA…”

“I love when he talks technical like that,” a first-year resident whispered to a fourth-year medical student standing next to him. “He sounds so Harvard.”

“Did you understand what he just said?” the fourth-year student whispered back.

“A little,” the first-year resident said. “Alloimmunization is kinda like when you become immune to your own antigen.”

“Specifically,” Doc St. John said, “she has become immune to the effects of the allogenic antigen; therefore, on testing for the HLA, there are no more reactions, since the receptor sites are now immune to human leukocyte antigen on B27.”

Is Doc St. John trying to suggest that by mere chemotherapy and blood transfusions you can virtually eliminate coded signals in the body? thought the oncology fellow. I don't think so.

*   *   *

Meanwhile, at West Virginia University (WVU) Medical School in Charleston, West Virginia, Dr. Eugene T. Norfolk, a senior research fellow at the Department of Pediatric Oncology, who had been researching cure rates for childhood leukemia, observed a significant cure rate for a select group of children whose blood cancer, no matter what stage they were diagnosed at, was essentially cured with high dose of the cancer drug cytarabine diluted with normal saline.

The purified water for their normal saline solution (pure water mixed with an appropriate percentage of salt), came from the Peak Hole Mountains, near the eastern border of West Virginia, between the big Allegheny and the Back Creek Mountain near the little town of Minnehaha Springs. Peak Hole is the steepest corner between Allegheny and Black Creek. The origin of the water had forever been a legendary mystery, but it ran down through the steepest corner of the mountain, into an unreachable gully, to the foot of the mountain.

At approximately one hundred feet below sea level, pure water continuously gushed out a small funnel-sized indent in a cave created by the mountains. The spring water, initially discovered and analyzed by the geology department at WVU, was made the exclusive property of the university. Many alleged cures had been attributed to this water. The university often distributed the water to many religious organizations and churches for baptism and also for the formalization of holy water. The university had vehemently refused to commercialize the water, fearing that it might lose whatever value, and/or power, it possessed.

Dr. Norfolk treated a lot of patients with these Peak Hole water solutions and documented fascinating results, especially in young patients with leukemia and lymphomas.

 

4

“S
HIRLEY,”
D
ICKERSON SHOUTED ACROSS
the open door to the outer office, “who is Dr. Norfolk?”

“I don't know,” the secretary said. “He said he would like to talk to you about a possible cure he has discovered for HLA B66.”

“A cure, you said!” Dickerson asked with such a surprised tone.

“That's what he said,” Shirley responded, repeatedly blinking her eyes nervously.

“What does he mean … cure?” Dickerson asked, stepping out of her office to be sure Shirley had the right information.

“I guess that's what he wants to discuss with you.”

“That's weird,” said Dickerson.

Dickerson reflected for a moment, took a few steps back toward her office, then turned back to Shirley and said, “Get me Dr. Abramhoff first, on another line, and keep Dr. Norfolk on hold for a little bit.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Hi, David,” Dickerson said, picking up Abramhoff's line first, “do you know a Dr. Norfolk from West Virginia University?”

“No. I've never heard of him. Why?” Abramhoff sounded inquisitive.

“Well, he is on the other line. He wants to talk to me about a cure for HLA B66.”

“Cure … like in, take an antibiotic and strep throat is cured?” Abramhoff asked

“I don't know, I haven't talked to him yet. He's still on the line,” Dickerson replied. “I mean … let's hear him out and see what he has to say. I was thinking maybe we can have a three-way conversation, so that you can also hear it firsthand.”

“Oh, yes, I would be delighted.”

“Okay, hold on for one second.”

“This is Dr. Dickerson. Dr. Norfolk?”

“Yes Ma'am, I…”

“Before you start,” interrupted Dickerson, “I have Dr. Abramhoff also on the line, and I was having a conversation with him when you called. How can we help you?”

“That's lovely, good morning to you both,” greeted Dr. Norfolk.

“Good morning,” answered Abramhoff, making his presence known.

“I'm Dr. Eugene Norfolk, as I was saying. I'm the senior research fellow with the pediatric oncology unit here at WVU. I know about the HLA B66 and both of your findings and interpretations. I just want to ask if any of you know about Peak Hole Mountains in West Virginia.”

“Not me.” Dickerson went first.

“Me, neither,” Abramhoff added.

“Oh, it's a beautiful mountain nestled between the great Allegheny and Black Creek. At Peak Hole, there's this water that runs down the steep end of the mountain. It collects at a basin inside a cave. The university has exclusive rights to this water. I am surprised y'all haven't heard of it, because folks around here believe the water has healing powers.”

“Wasn't that supposed to be at Hot Springs, Arkansas?” Abramhoff said.

“Apparently Peak Hole also, but from what I have heard so far, I believe you are suggesting that this water can cure the HLA B66?” asked Dickerson abruptly.

“Well, let me tell y'all what we did,” Dr. Norfolk said, eager to enlighten. “In my studies, we exclusively use Peak Hole water for our mixture with dextrose in normal saline solutions. These are the only solutions allowed for mixing chemotherapy agents for our acute leukemia patients, and we have a much higher rate of complete remission than in any studies I have seen in the literature.”

“How does that tie in with the HLA?” Abramhoff again jumped in.

“Well,” Norfolk said with a smile, “two of our patients had childhood rheumatoid arthritis, and they both tested positive for the rheumatoid factor antigen and the HLA B27. After four cycles of chemo, they went into complete remission for the cancer and the rheumatoid factor. Most interestingly, when we retested them for HLA B27, it was no longer there.”

“This is getting interesting,” Abramhoff was quick to add. “So you are suggesting that in some way we can also make HLA B66 … vanish.”

“I don't know, because our patients are cancer patients treated with chemo agents mixed in Peak Hole water. Is it the chemo? Is it the water…?” queried Dr. Norfolk. “Our conclusion, however, is that it has to be the water only, because we have treated these types of patients for years and there has never been any documented complete cancer cure, and there has never been any HLA interference previously.”

“So let me try to understand you, and try to make some sense as to where you're going with this,” Dickerson said. “You would like us to give this water, intravenously of course, and see if it wipes out HLA B66.”

“That's one way of doing it,” Dr. Norfolk said. “We can also try it with blood transfusions, as Dr. St. John in Boston is suggesting, or try it with chemo … kinda like a three-arm study.”

“How are you planning to design this study?” Abramhoff asked.