The RX Factor (18 page)

Jordan grinned. "You're one sneaky bastard, Mr. Calk."

The next day, slipping back into the role of the desperate Lawrence Calk, Ryan telephoned Jerry Cottle.

"My wife and I have talked this over, and we've come to a decision. I'd like to take my wife directly to your clinic in Mexico. I can't afford to lose more time. The clock is against us now."

Cottle let him finish without saying another word. Ryan knew the crafty salesman was clamming up now that the sale had been made.

"I want to view the clinic and speak with a doctor. If everything still sounds good, I'll need a day or two to liquidate some of our stockholdings and then we'll make payment arrangements. How does that work for you?"

Not wanting to blow a big deal and a huge commission, but still concerned with letting a patient go alone without his escort, Cottle responded, "Well, usually I make the flight arrangements and travel with the patient down to the clinic. I like to spend the day showing them around, introducing them to our professional staff, and making sure that all of their questions are answered. Unfortunately, I have two appointments in the next two days that I must attend. Where was it you said you lived?"

"We live in Virginia, but are currently in Durham, North Carolina. My wife was being evaluated at Duke."

"I'm out in California and won't be able to meet you for another three days. Can you wait until then?"

Ryan knew that once Cottle saw Jordan the jig would be up. "Now that we've made our decision, we're not going to be able to sleep tonight as it is. We just don't feel like we have the luxury of wasting any more time. Can you just make the arrangements for us without actually accompanying us down there? We're anxious to at least get a look at the place."

Cottle hesitated. "Sure. Give me an hour, and I'll call you back to confirm. Where can I reach you?"

Ryan gave him the phone number for their hotel and said they would be awaiting his call.

Forty-five minutes later, the phone rang. Cottle confirmed that everything was set and dictated the agenda to Ryan. He informed Ryan that, if the clinic met their expectations, treatment would begin as soon as the funds came through.

Ryan hung up and turned to Jordan. "We're on. We leave for Puerto Vallarta tomorrow. Cottle said we'd be talking to a Dr. Saul Pohmer when we get there. He wanted to book the flight and have a car waiting for us at the airport, but I told him we'd rather make our own travel arrangements. We don't want to blow our cover."

"So what's the plan when we get to Mexico?"

"I have some ideas that I'm working through, but don't expect a detailed plan." His smile was full of mischief. "I've convinced myself that plans limit creativity. I'd prefer to jump in and see what comes to mind."

"A natural-born innovator, huh? I can see why you were a good researcher."

He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "The jury's still out on that. All I know is that I've got to find out this supposed new formula for Tricopatin and make sure it is not the exact same poison that I fed to my wife and the other guinea pigs during the clinical trial."

"Then maybe we can find out why people are trying to kill me," Jordan added.

Despite their enjoyment of being alone together,
Ryan and Jordan had no intention of lying low in a hotel room. They decided to visit a few of Ryan's old haunts, beginning with Charlie's Pub, a local college dive on Durham's famed Ninth Street, a few blocks from Duke's East Campus. The stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke filled the air. Every television in the bar was surrounded by rowdy Duke basketball fans cheering on their beloved Blue Devils.

Attempting to be heard over the hoopla, Jordan shouted, "So this is where you used to hang out?"

"I don't remember it being this loud and obnoxious. I guess my age is showing. Let's head to the bar in the back room. It should be a little tamer."

The back room was just as Ryan remembered. A smattering of middle-aged patrons were nursing their cocktails, while a couple of forty-something adolescents poured twenties into the video poker machine.

Ryan ordered a couple of beers, handed one to Jordan and joked, "This place hasn't changed in twenty years. I could swear those same two guys were playing that damn poker machine the last time I was here. I guess they still think their ship's just about to come in."

After another round of drinks was delivered, Ryan laid out some strategies for their pending visit to the New Hope Cancer Alternatives clinic in Puerto Vallarta. When the drunks at the poker machine began shouting obscenities at the blasted game, Ryan and Jordan decided they needed a change of scenery. As they perused Ninth Street, searching for a more relaxing atmosphere, the name on one door caught their attention. The G Loft, with its high leather-backed chairs, suede couches, Buddha statues, dim lighting, and soft jazz playing in the background, seemed out of place in a college town. And it was exactly what they were looking for.

After a couple of martinis, they ordered a bottle of wine and decided to explore the secluded loft. They found an empty couch and nestled into each other's arms, enjoying their wine, the soft music, and the pleasure of each other's touch.

When the last couple left the room, Ryan and Jordan found themselves alone. In harmony, they turned towards one another and set down their wine glasses. Without a word, Ryan caressed her cheek and slowly pressed his lips against hers.

Soon they were lost in a passionate embrace. It all felt so natural. Only the sound of feet mounting the stairway ended what promised to be a true display of their affections.

Back at the hotel, they wasted no time. Their coats dropping to the floor, Ryan pushed the door closed and brushed his lips across Jordan's. She responded passionately, and soon they were lost in each other.

Moments later, Jordan pulled away. Ryan took on a look of surprise and disappointment. But his eyes were soon wide and filled with desire when she surprised Mm again by lifting her blouse over her head, still buttoned. He breathed in deep as he saw her full, luscious breasts heaving in a black lace bra.

Soon, the fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface over the past two weeks consumed them. They melted into each other's arms as the rest of their clothes fell to the floor. Ryan slowly pressed her onto the bed. Jordan wrapped her feet around his ankles and gave herself to him completely.

Neither spoke a word as they yielded to the impulses they'd painfully denied themselves until now. The intensity was almost impossible to bear, and the release of Jordan's climaxes came as if she were riding waves higher and higher. Ryan managed somehow to hold himself in check as he brought her to the crest once again. With a deter mined effort, Jordan pulled herself away from the seductive enticement of the next wave until they both felt the eruption of release, collapsing together in a tangle of arms and legs.

Ryan gazed out the window at the cumulus clouds
floating past the port wing. They had connected to an Aeromexico 757 in Mexico City and were now bound for their final destination, Puerto Vallarta.

The night before had changed everything. Today they had the sated, easy look of lovers. Ryan thought about the implications. In a sense, he still felt like he had betrayed Cindy. He knew that was irrational, yet he couldn't keep the feeling from lingering. The sheer intensity of their joining provoked in him a desperate yearning to be whole again. This had not been the case with Cindy. With Cindy he felt complete. Without her, a void was ever present, and his life had been empty and devoid of any real meaning, until now.

One irritating thought swirled relentlessly around his head like a pesky mosquito: maybe Jordan only needed him as her protector. His heart told him otherwise—he couldn't believe that Jordan was that type of woman. Still, Ryan knew he wasn't a genius when it came to women. In fact, he was sure that what he did not understand about them could fill volumes. But he was also pretty sure that no one could fake the magic they had shared last night.

The big jet landed on the tarmac with a slight bump and taxied over to where buses were waiting to take them to the terminal. They departed the aircraft and squinted at the bright Mexican sun. They breezed through customs, and, in under an hour, they were in the rented SUV heading towards Sayulita. As they picked up the coast road, the aqua blue of the Pacific glistened through the palms. Having been cooped up in a plane for the better part of the day, they opted for open windows over air-conditioning, and the breeze felt refreshing. The road first went through the cluttered highway towns that lined Banderas Bay north of Puerto Vallarta, then wound through the foothills along the coast. After passing a local bus, their progress was brisk. For a brief moment, the smell and feel of the tropics put Ryan back in exile on Exuma. But a glance at Jordan behind the wheel, her mane of dark hair whipping back in the wind, let him know that, in so many ways, he was in a whole new world.

Thirty-five minutes outside of Puerto Vallarta, Jordan pulled over to the side of the road. Over the canopy of tropical trees they could see the serene blue waters of the magnificent Pacific Ocean. The mountains of the Sierra Madre rose stately behind them.

Jordan turned toward Ryan. "I fell in love with this place when I came here in college, on spring break. I did my undergrad at Northwestern and my entire sorority made the trip. I've been coming back for vacations ever since. Three years ago I decided that I would not spend the rest of my career running clinical trials. After watching so many hopeful patients wither away, I committed myself to doing something that could actually help people in desperate situations live. With my uncle's financial backing and his high-powered connections, I put together an exploratory committee of experts and began formulating a plan to make this clinic a reality."

"What did these experts do for you?"

"The goal was to discover drugs that offered enhanced benefits or even real cures for people stricken with terminal diseases. I had it on good authority that such drugs existed, but had yet to pass FDA scrutiny."

"Sounds like you and my friend Eric have been drinking the same Kool-Aid. I just can't believe that drugs exist that actually provide benefits to terminal patients beyond traditional medicine and yet cannot get approved for use in the United States."

"Maybe I am drinking the same Kool-Aid as Eric, but sounds to me like you're drinking the Kool-Aid being served up by the FDA. I'm not saying all of these drugs are perfect. Many of them come with the potential for some pretty nasty side effects. But there is a big difference in approving a drug designed to treat something like insomnia with harmful side effects as opposed to approving a drug to treat terminal patients. If a new drug offers the patient a real chance at a cure, however small that chance may be, isn't that a better alternative than just accepting fate and waiting to die?"

Ryan didn't respond. He rubbed his chin and stared out at a distant yacht rocking peacefully up and down in the brilliant blue waters of the Pacific. His thoughts turned to Cindy as he debated the implications of Jordan's question. He could not deny that this very issue was one that had haunted him for the past five years.
Is it better to give a terminal patient an experimental drug that could save their life knowing it could have potential devastating side effects, or let them live out their remaining days with traditional treatments that have proven to extend life for many months or even years?

"Listen, Ryan. I'm sorry. I know this is a touchy subject for you. I didn't mean . . ."

Before she could finish, Ryan cut her off. "Jordan, there is no need to apologize. You're right. Hell, I came to the same conclusion over five years ago and took a similar action. Just because it did not work out in that one particular instance doesn't mean that other terminal patients shouldn't be given every chance to survive."

Jordan's eyes welled up and she reached over and gave him a big hug. As they held each other, Jordan whispered, "I'm so happy to hear you say that. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful that makes me feel."

Jordan kissed Ryan's lips, then released him from her hug and got out of the SUV. She wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue as she stepped over the guardrail and headed to a point overlooking the ocean. Ryan gave her a minute and then joined her.

"So tell me, what did your committee of experts discover?"

"I can't get into all the details due to confidentiality agreements, but based on what they came up with and my own follow-up research, all of the pieces of the puzzle started to come together and the clinic went from a dream to a real possibility. And when it came time to take the next step, I knew this was the spot." Gazing out at the ocean, Jordan paused. "At the time, I had no idea a similar clinic existed in this area. It isn't like they advertised on billboards. I only found out after the call from Cottle. Turns out, the NHCA clinic is just around the corner on this hillside overlooking the Four Seasons Resort in Punta de Mita. My clinic is ten miles straight ahead in Sayulita, just before the hotel. How about a tour before we check into our room?"

"That sounds like a plan."

When they pulled up to Jordan's clinic, Ryan did a double take. Back in the States or the Carib bean the building might have been mistaken for a hotel. Coconut palms dotted the terrain, and jungle vegetation crawled over the white stucco walls.

Ryan quipped, "When can I get a reservation?"

"It was a hotel at one time. Fortunately, most of our renovations were internal. We didn't have to do much to the grounds. Come on, I'll show you around."

They were halfway down the first-floor corridor on their way to the administration office when a middle-aged woman in a starched white lab coat approached them. The photo ID card hanging from her upper pocket read Francine Chambers. Auburn hair draped her shoulders in ringlets.

Francine gave Jordan a big hug, and the two of them spent a few moments discussing the events of the past few weeks. Both of their eyes filled with tears as Francine expressed her sympathy over the tragic deaths of Jordan's aunt and uncle.