The Magic Bullet (29 page)

Phil, her “companion,” had accompanied her on both her previous visits to the ACF.

“Hello,” he said, barely looking up.

“Dr. Como,” said Hannah pleasantly, her German accent evident within two words. “Well, well, the gang is all here.”

“Yes,” said Logan, “Dr. Reston’s told us about your problem.”

“I really don’t think it is
that
big a problem. Do you, Phil?”

The way he looked at her was almost worshipful. “I hope not.”

“Just some bleeding when I brush.” She glanced at her friend. “But Phil gets upset. The sink gets all red.”

“Not you?”

“I am upset that he’s upset.”

“Have you noticed if you’ve been brusing more easily than usual?” asked Logan. The obvious thought: The drug was playing havoc with the proteins responsible for coagulation.

She shrugged. “No. I have not noticed.”

“And otherwise,” noted Sabrina, “you are feeling not so bad?”

Dietz smiled, showing a mouthful of caps. “Not so bad for a woman with cancer.”

“Well,” said Logan, “I think the first thing we have to do is take a little blood. That should give us a better idea of
what’s going on. And we might have to keep you a couple of days for observation.”

He turned to Phil. “I’m afraid now you will have to wait outside. This shouldn’t take too long.”

He stood, and Logan saw his eyes had suddenly gone moist. Bending down, he took Hannah’s hand like a medieval courtier, and kissed it tenderly. “I will be close by.”

The blood test was back late that afternoon. It showed what they’d expected: the prothrombin time—a measure of the speed with which blood clots—had been drastically elevated. At least one of the proteins in the coagulation cascade was seriously malfunctioning.

It had to be Compound J.

When the results came in, the three of them retreated to the deserted junior associates’ lounge.

“Shit!” erupted Reston. He kicked a chair violently, sending it crashing to the floor.
“What now?”

“You are a child, Reston,” said Sabrina disgustedly. “A selfish baby.” Turning to Logan, she added, “We treat Mrs. Dietz,
this
is what we do now. It is a simple matter. Vitamin K should bring the prothrombin time down in a few days and with little risk.”

“That’s not the point!” raged Reston. “That woman down there is the
least
of our problems. You realize this is going to have to be reported to the Institutional Review Board—”

“Don’t overreact,” Logan cut him off. “I don’t see that this is a terrible setback. If we can tune up Mrs. Dietz quickly, we’re just about back to where we were.”

“Hold on a
fucking second!
” Reston held up both hands. “No
way
she stays on this protocol. The next time the bleeding could be internal—and fatal.”

“You know as well as I do, she doesn’t have a chance otherwise.”

“Not my problem! Is that clear? Not my
fucking
problem!”

Logan cast Sabrina a glance. She returned it fleetingly, then looked away. She was going to let Logan handle this.

“Listen, Reston,” he said, “this woman was there for us. She didn’t gripe when we needed her to give up her treatment slot.”

“What the hell does that matter?” Reston was so apoplectic, he could hardly get the words out. “What are you, Logan, suicidal?”

“You can just forget it, I’m not going to cut her loose. We’ve already lost Judy Novick, we’re down to fourteen as it is.”

“I was against keeping Novick too! That was another mistake!” He shook his head violently. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Just trying to be fair, John. And human.”

“I will arrange for the Vitamin K treatment,” said Sabrina, walking briskly from the room. “And I will give the news of what is going on. To both of them.”

“Anything new on Compound BS?” sneered Reston, when Logan took a seat across from him the next afternoon in the cafeteria.

“Cut it out, John,” snapped Logan, eyeing a pair of fellow junior associates within earshot.

“Don’t you even want to know what it stands for?”

“I
know
what it stands for.”

“Oh, but it also has another meaning.” He paused. “Boffing Sabrina. ‘Cause that’s the only purpose this damn drug seems to serve.”

“Screw you, Reston!” Logan glanced quickly at their colleagues down the table; thankfully, they seemed not to have been listening. “I’ve just about had it with you.”

“Oh, you have a problem with that? Well, you know what—I’m getting pretty damn sick of you two ganging up on me.”

“Bullshit! We’re just doing what we think is best for the protocol.”

“What, you honestly still think this drug’s gonna work?”

“That’s exactly what I think.” Logan picked up his tray and stood up. This was pointless—and there was a chance it could escalate into something serious.

But Reston rose to follow him. “Oh, right.” He erupted in a transparently phony grin. “I almost forgot the great life lesson you’ve learned from the bombshell: Keep smilin’!”

Logan started toward a deserted corner of the room. “You think that’s funny?”

“I don’t know. At least I get some honesty points—that’s more than you can say.”

“All I’m asking you is not to sabotage us. Goddamn it, John, we’ve got to hang tough. Now more than ever!”

“When this drug of yours goes bust, it’s really not going to matter how tough we hung.”

“Fine. Good. I just hope when things start looking up, it’ll still be
‘this drug of yours.’
” Logan closed his eyes for a moment. “In the meantime, I’m asking you as a friend: Please keep your mouth shut. Think you can do that?”

“Sure,” said Reston breezily, “I can do that. But tell Sabrina—it’s gonna cost you two your firstborn.”

“W
hat’re you reading?”

Startled, Logan looked up at Seth Shein. He’d deliberately chosen this spot—a bench in a quiet nook behind the Institute library—to avoid being bothered; and there was no one he wanted to see less than Shein. They’d scarcely exchanged a word in the several weeks since the unpleasantness in Shein’s office. “Just a letter.”

“Who from?”

“Just something to do with the protocol,” he evaded. “It’s nothing.”

“From a doc?”

“A researcher, retired. An old guy. It’s nothing.”

“They really come out of the woodwork, don’t they?” he said pleasantly. “You should see some of the kooks I hear from after starting a trial. All these losers with something to say.”

“Oh, yeah?” For the life of him, Logan couldn’t figure out why Shein was being so damn friendly.
Was he ever going to figure out where he stood with this guy?

“The old ones, they’re the worst. Either they’re bored and want you to amuse them with details of the work, or they have advice to give you based on hundred-year-old science. Which one’s this one?”

Logan smiled. “He wants to hear about the work.”
Worse, was he ever going to get past this need for Shein’s approval? Sabrina was right, it was like his father all over again!

“Lemme see it,” said Shein, sitting beside him on the bench.

“It’s a personal letter.”

“C’mon, will you?” He held out his hand. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

Reluctantly, Logan handed it over—then, as the senior man started to read, watched for a reaction.

Shein looked up. “You didn’t say he was German. Stop holding out on me, Logan.”

“Holding out on you?”

“I’m
joking
, Logan. Jeez, when’d you get so damn sensitive?”

Shein handed back the letter. “Christ, the guy’s gotta be ninety years old. Straight outta the Dark Ages.”

“What do you think I should write him back?” For, in fact, given the letter’s place of origin, Logan’s curiosity was piqued.

“Tell him to go fuck himself.” Shein grinned. “Nicely—you’ve got the ACF’s reputation to consider.” He
paused, turned more serious. “Sorry to hear about that woman’s prothrombin time problem. You got it under control?”

Logan hesitated, acutely aware that Hannah Dietz’s toxic reaction, mild as it was, could be used to slight the protocol. “Absolutely. The Vitamin K tuned her right up.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“We’re just going to have to keep a close watch on her.”

“Uh-huh.”

What now? Far from concerning Shein, the Dietz problem barely seemed to hold his interest.

A moment later he found out why.

“Listen, Logan,” he said, turning to face him, “I gotta tell you something. You really got that sick fuck going!”

It took a couple of seconds for Logan to figure it out. “Stillman?”

Shein laughed. “He’s scared to death he’s gonna be shown up by a bunch of punk kids!”

“Us?” asked Logan, reasonably. “Why?”

“Why?” Shein’s voice dropped. “Because Stillman’s finally faced the fact that
his
protocol’s gonna be a total disaster, that’s why. He has the evidence in hand. He knows the stuffs just gonna keep laying there and pretty soon everyone else will too.” He laughed again. “Poor son of a bitch!”

Logan didn’t need to ask how Shein knew—the guy had sources everywhere.

Anyway, just as meaningful to him at the moment was the revived sense of intimacy between the older man and himself.

“That’s great,” he said, uncertainly. “Are congratulations in order?”

Shein clapped him on the back. “Damn right they are, Logan. The bigger his failure, the bigger my success.” He stood up. “Now what I need from you is not to let up. Wring some activity outta that stuff of yours and it’ll be the stake through his heart!”

* * *

Sabrina, when she reached Logan that night from the hospital, was not amused by any of this. “This Shein cannot be listened to. Every minute he will change what he says.”

“I know that, Sabrina,” he said—though, in fact, he could not help but view the senior man’s latest attitude change more hopefully. “I’m the one he keeps jerking around.”

“Yes—but then you jerk me.” He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. It was the end of another very long day—one even longer than most. A couple of hours earlier word had come in that Judith Novick had died.

“You I don’t mind jerking,” he tried to lighten things up, “as long as you jerk me back.”

“Anyway, on the subject of Stillman, I have heard something today also. About Reston …”

“From who?”

“Rachel Meigs.” Her friend who was assisting on the Stillman protocol. “She says Reston makes fun of Compound J right in front of them. Even Atlas.”

Silence. What was there to say?

“He talks about the Hannah Dietz case. He makes these bleeding gums sound like, I don’t know, a massive coronary.”

Logan had no trouble at all imagining the scene. “He’s trying to protect his own miserable ass,” he said bitterly.

“I despise this guy.”

“You’re not gonna hear me argue, Sabrina. You were right all along.”

“It isn’t why I tell you this, to be right. But it is important to face. Because it is something we must to deal with.”

“Unless the protocol pans out. I know this guy. Believe me, if things start going better, Reston’ll be right back with the program.”

S
he was in her private office, meeting with two associates, when she was told her doctor had been waiting some time to see her. It wasn’t exactly that she’d forgotten he was due, just that she’d been so determined to carry on business as usual
.

“We’re going to need some privacy,” she said, dismissing both women with a curt nod. “I hope this won’t take too long. Why don’t we plan on resuming around five?”

The younger of the women, fairly new to the job and eager to impress, quickly gathered up her things and headed for the door. But the other, Beverly, her chief of staff, lingered a moment and gave her hand a squeeze. “Good luck.”

Having given up smoking nearly fifteen years ago, she rarely even craved a cigarette anymore. But suddenly, now, she did
.

There was a knock at the door
.

“It’s open.”

As soon as she saw his face, she knew the news was bad
.

“So,” she said, forcing a smile, “they got it done in
less
than twenty-four hours. Tell them I’m impressed.”

“I will.” He offered a small smile of his own
—
a doctor’s smile, not nearly so sincere as a competent politician’s. “Mrs. Rivers, I hope you’ll forgive me, I’ve taken the liberty of
—
”

Abruptly, John entered the room. He was ashen faced
—
not a politician now, but an ordinary husband
. My God,
she thought
, he knows too!

Wordlessly, he took a perch on the arm of her chair and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he said
.

“That bad?” she said, glaring at the doctor
. Lord help me,
she thought
, I’m not prepared for this! Why didn’t I prepare?

“I’m afraid that the biopsy shows there is a malignancy present.”

There it was: the death sentence
.

“Could you be a little more specific?”

But as he launched into a jumble of medical jargon, she scarcely even listened
.

“So you’re saying this is bone cancer?” asked John
.