When he’d called the Petersens, he got the answering machine. He left his cell phone number and then went to dinner with Joe and his wife Toby. He tried to be good company, but had difficulty treating any topic of conversation as interesting or important and was especially bored with domestic topics. Toby clearly was growing more and more annoyed and flashed her irritation at Joe periodically. Allan continually checked his cell phone, worried that the volume wasn’t high enough to hear a call or that the signal was too weak inside the restaurant.
“Maybe they don’t want to call you back, Allan,” Toby suggested. “They already gave Joe an answer, and now you’re calling for the same reason. You can’t stalk them. How do you intend to get them to agree?”
“I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse,” he said. “Like a medical godfather.”
Toby laughed. But Allan didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile.
“Are you serious?” she asked. Joe froze his smile. “What, money?”
“From what Joe’s told me about them, they’re not exactly rolling around in money.”
“Is that ethical?”
“Sure. We pay people to donate their blood, don’t we?” Allan replied before Joe could respond.
“He’s right. This isn’t exactly the same thing, but…”
“It’s not. It’s far more important,” Allan insisted.
Toby had made the mistake of giving him the lead-in. He went on and on, practically repeating a paper he had recently done for a convention of oncologists, spewing off statistics. She began to sink in a pool of regret and boredom and was actually grateful when Allan’s phone sounded. He nearly leaped out of his seat, nodded at them to indicate it was Demi Petersen, and walked away to talk.
A little more than a minute later, he returned, his face full of excitement.
“The mother will see me right now,” he said. “They were out to dinner.”
He peeled off some money, but Joe wouldn’t let him pay anything.
“Just go,” he said. “I’ll wait up for you.”
“Right. Right,” he babbled and went off.
“Finally,” Toby said, watching Allan leave the restaurant, “we can relax.”
Allan was impatient with his GPS until it outlined the route to the Petersens’ home. A lot more conscious about his driving since he was pulled over on the freeway, he drove slower than he would have liked. He was encouraged by the modest two-story home with only a suggestion of a front lawn and faded wood panels fencing it off from the neighboring houses and properties. Money should be important to them, he thought as he got out of his vehicle and walked toward the front door. Before he reached it, Demi opened it to greet him. She had put on a tight-knit light-green dress for the dinner celebration and looked quite attractive.
For some reason Allan had envisioned an older, harderlooking woman. He was actually hoping she’d be that way. Attractive women took him off his game.
“Doctor Parker?”
She had a very soft, comforting smile. It actually worked well for him, calming him down.
“Yes. Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice,” he said. “But I just drove in today and—”
“Please, come in.”
Demi led him into the living room. It was a very modest home inside as well, but decorated with some good taste. His eyes caught the cigarette butts pressed into a piece of cardboard on a table beside the sofa, however. There was other evidence of someone’s sloppiness: a pair of men’s slippers under the coffee table, a flannel shirt tossed over the back of the sofa, and a nearly empty beer bottle on a side table.
“Would you like something to drink? Alcoholic or not?”
“No, thank you.”
“Hey, are you the hotshot from LA.?” Allan heard and turned.
“This is Warren Moore,” Demi said when Warren came in from the kitchen. She didn’t explain anymore about him, but Allan assumed he was her significant other and shook hands quickly. His father had taught him not to have a limp grip when shaking another man’s hand and it stood in his mind. Warren was obviously surprised.
“Hardly a hotshot.” Allen turned back to Demi. “I’m really sorry about coming over this late, but I felt it was really important, and I hope before I’m finished explaining, you will see it that way, too.”
“Please, have a seat,” Demi said. She looked at Warren, who already appeared bored and disinterested. When he lit a cigarette, Allan glared.
“Warren, maybe Doctor Parker would rather not sit with someone smoking.”
“Oh, no…it’s…”
“Fine. I’ll be outside,” Warren said sullenly and left.
She looked after him sadly but then smiled at Allan.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said.
“Go on, Doctor Parker. I’m sorry. Warren’s one of those men who doesn’t like to be told to do anything, and I’m a Sagittarius. We don’t hide our thoughts. Don’t ask me how we manage to get along. It’s a mystery.”
Allan laughed, admiring her for being able to be humorous and laid back about her relationship.
He gave her his resume as quickly and as simply as he could. He had already decided that the best way to peel this onion was to get her to think of her niece and relate that to other children who were in similar states. She looked moved, especially when he described the twelve-year-old he was about to lose.
“I admire you for all that wonderful work you do, but I don’t know how you can stand the tragedies.”
“It’s like that famous saying,’What doesn’t destroy you makes you stronger.’ “
“Nietzsche.”
“Yes,” Allan said, impressed.
Demi laughed.
“I don’t know anything more than that. My son mumbles that expression all the time and told me it comes from Nietzsche.”
“Your son?”
She nodded, proudly, and then grew serious. “Despite all you’ve explained, I’m still not sure I understand why you want my son to give more of his blood, Doctor Parker.”
“Well, I reviewed your niece’s case, and to be absolutely frank, Mrs. Petersen…”
“Demi, please.”
“Demi. There is no medical explanation we know at the moment that would explain why your niece is still alive tonight. More importantly, why she is in this complete remission so quickly. There has been, however, a fascinating experiment involving mice.”
Warren returned just as Allan finished his last remark.
“Mice, huh? Taylor reminds me of a little mouse sometimes,” he offered and laughed. Demi didn’t even smile.
“Doctor Parker is just finishing his explanation, Warren,” she said, eyeing the sofa and clearly telling him to shut up.
Warren nodded, still not looking interested, but slipped onto the sofa to sit beside her.
“As I was saying, this experiment was with mice, only not usual mice. These mice appear to be cancer resistant. Their white blood cells, when transplanted into mice that were given what should have been lethal doses of highly aggressive new cancers, not only killed the existing cancer but protected the mice against the new, more lethal doses, and it all happened relatively rapidly.
“I don’t want to get too technical, but it has to do with white blood cells that attack the cancer cells—all sorts of cancer, by the way.”
Demi just stared.
Warren smiled and sat up.
“So I was right. The kid’s got mouse blood or something, huh?”
“No,” Allan said, seeing the man was actually trying to be serious. “He can’t have the same blood, but the interaction suggests that what provided the cancer resistance in the mice might occur in human beings, if there were such a donor. This is the first case that suggests it, To my knowledge, that is.”
“So you think there’s something about Taylor’s blood that’s cancer resistant?” Demi asked.
“Exactly,” Allan said.
“Why his blood?” Warren asked, looking more angry than inte
rested.
“I can only theorize at this stage, but it might have something to do with the dosage of radiation Mr. Petersen experienced. This occurred before your son was conceived, correct, Mrs. Petersen?” For some reason, he found it difficult calling her Demi with Warren present.
“Yes. And Buddy never came down with any form of cancer, although he heard that some of his coworkers had. We were always expecting it. Concerned about every ache or pain. It was truly like living with a…”
“Sword over your head?”
“Exactly.”
Allan nodded, smiling, trying to contain his excitement. She was far from an ignorant woman. He grew more confident. He could get through to someone like her.
“I don’t get it. What sword?” Warren asked.
“It’s just an expression. It means living with something threatening,” she said.
The way she looked at him made his face turn a shade of crimson. Allan couldn’t help but pick up a negative vibration. He couldn’t help wondering what she was doing with this man. He chalked it up to the female temperament. That was an even bigger mystery to him than cancer, and always had been.
“Actually, this is why I’m even more interested in what’s occurred vis-à-vis Taylor’s blood donation. We had some of those cases of cancer you’re referring to that initiated out of Palo Alto, so I know about the dosage they experienced. It was very significant.”
“And the kid might have something special about his blood because of that?” Warren asked quickly.
Allan nodded. He preferred to direct himself to Demi.
“If that’s all true, this kid is a walking gold mine,” Warren added.
“I can’t be so quick to say something like that,” Allan told him in a far more formal tone. “There’s a lot to be done before anything could be confirmed, but step one is to get another sample of his blood—those white cells to be precise and—”
“What’s it worth?” Warren pursued.
Allan looked at him. “You can’t possibly put a price on something like this, Mr.…”
“Moore. Priceless. I love it,” Warren said smiling.
Demi suddenly looked upset, however. Allan realized he might be overwhelming and frightening her with his rabid enthusiasm. He tried to calm down and speak more nonchalantly.
“To pursue these possibilities, I just need a small sample. It won’t take long. But,” he added quickly, “I can understand the child’s reluctance. Who likes to give blood?”
“Women, once a month,” Warren joked.
“Jesus, Warren,” Demi said.
“I’m just trying to lighten things up,” he said. “I don’t see why it ain’t worth something if it’s so damn important.”
“Maybe, if you agree, of course, we could…I mean I could give your son a thousand dollars towards his college education,” Allan offered.
“A thousand dollars!” Warren leaned forward. “For what? How much blood?”
“Not any more than you would give for routine blood tests,” Allan said.
Clearly attracted to the proposal, Warren looked at Demi.
“I’ll talk to Taylor about all this in the morning,” she said. “He’s gone to sleep.”
“For a thousand bucks, you can wake him up.”
“I’d rather sleep on it myself and talk to him in the morning, if that’s all right with you, Doctor Parker,” she said, firmly enough for Allan to realize he had gone as far as he could.
“Jesus,” Warren said shaking his head. “She works two weeks for a thousand dollars and she’s getting that carpet tunnel syndrome.”
“Carpal tunnel, Warren.”
“Whatever. She breathes in all those damn chemicals they put on hair these days, too, not To mention the garbage she has to take from some of those women who would look better if someone took a blowtorch to them.”
“Warren, please. Dr. Parker doesn’t have to hear all that.”
“I’m okay with you sleeping on it, Mrs. Petersen,” Allan said, standing. “You have my number. I’ll be at Doctor Weber’s office in the morning, and then I’ll be at the hospital to participate in your niece’s final run-through,” he said.
“Is she still okay?” Warren asked.
“She’s fine. That’s why I’ve come from Los Angeles. We have something going on here that’s quite unusual but might be quite promising for lots of children like Jodi.”
Warren slapped his hands together and stood.
“Thanks for stopping by, Doc,” he said, extending his hand.
Allan shook it, forced a smile, and started for the front entrance. Demi followed him out the door and closed it softly behind her.
“I’m not the smartest woman you’re going To meet, Doctor Parker. I’m not the best mother a child’s ever had either, but I have some pretty good motherly, female instincts.”
“Sure,” Allan said. “I…”
“If what you’re thinking, hoping, is even possible and my son is this amazing…I don’t know…good freak or something, this could have some very serious consequences for him. I mean, ironically, I’d be afraid for him.”
“I understand,” Allan said and reached down inside himself for his best bedside manner. “Listen, Demi, I lost my mother to breast cancer. I’ve devoted my life to the pursuit of cancer cures. My associates call me Doctor Sisyphus behind my back. I know they do. He was a character in Greek mythology who was forced to do just one thing over and over. I admit I’m obsessed, but it’s a good obsession. I’m sort of a monk, only I’m dedicated to the worship of science—science that can do something miraculous. I’m not religious in any sense, but I accept the possibility that God works his miracles through us, through science, in fact.
“That’s about as corny as I can get,” he added, smiling, and then grew deadly serious, “but I can tell you this, no one would be more protective of your son than I would be. I’d make sure of that. Damn sure.
“One last thing,” he said as he stepped away and turned. “I meant what I said in there. There are thousands of children whose parents will not have the morning after that your sister and her husband are having.”
She watched him get into his car. He looked back at her and smiled to himself. She hadn’t just turned away and gone back inside. His words nailed her.
I did it, he thought with a twinge of guilt. He would have liked to have taken more time with her. She was a pretty nice woman, but that Neanderthal made him rush his approach.
Confident, he drove quietly back to the Webers’ house, continuing to think about Demi Petersen more than he had expected he would.
This isn’t the time to contemplate romantic thoughts, Allan Parker, he told himself.
“He’s in the living room,” Toby Weber said as soon as Allan entered. “I was just going to bed. See you in the morning,” she added, turned quickly, and walked off. He was surprised at her apparent indifference, but Joe was obviously just waiting for Allan’s return. He could see the interest in his eyes.
He’s as eager for this as I am, Allan thought happily when he saw him.
“What was it like?” he asked quickly.
“She’s very nice, but she’s living with this kindergarten dropout who bulldozed his way into the conversation. He didn’t hesitate to demand money.”
“Really?”
“I offered her a thousand dollars to put toward her son’s education.”
“And?”
“I think I did a pretty good presentation, considering. She’s bright. She understood what I was saying.”
“Okay. She’s nice and she’s bright, and you offered her a thousand dollars. So, did she agree?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “But she will.”
CHAPTER THREE
Allan had trouble sleeping. It bothered him that he kept remembering little things about Demi Petersen’s face, like the way she lifted her upper lip just slightly when she went into a deeper thought or raised her right eyebrow when he became just a little too animated. It helped
him put the brakes on a bit, but none of this should be on his mind now, he kept telling himself.
He had sat up with Joe talking about some of their previous cases and the research with which they were both familiar. He drank a little more than he had intended and did finally fall asleep, but he woke a little more than an hour later and tossed and turned the rest of the night, sometimes thinking about Demi Petersen and then reviewing data and dreaming of how he would go forward if this proved to be what it appeared to be. He was never one to sleep too many hours anyway. Ever since his intern days, he did well with four, maybe five hours. He knew the importance of sleep, but he was intolerant of it. Cancer didn’t sleep, did it?
“How’s your young patient?” he asked immediately upon entering the kitchen. He had had the terrible thought that the miraculous remission would be gone after another night had passed.
Joe was at the table sipping some coffee and glancing at the newspaper. Allan knew he had checked in with the hospital the moment he rose.
“Terrific. I’ve decided to release her today. There’s nothing more we can do for her or need to do. What would you like for breakfast? Toby’s taken the kids to school.”
“Great. I’ll have some of that cold cereal and fruit you have out, thanks,” he said and poured the cereal into a bowl. After he sat, he put his phone on the table. Joe looked at it.
“I know how confident you were last night, Allan, but what if she doesn’t call?”
“I’ll raise the offer until she does. What else am I going to do with my money?” he replied, smiling, and ate.
“I have to tell you, Allan, I’m not sure what I would do in her shoes. I understand her concerns.”
“Hey, so do I, and I meant what I said. I’ll make sure that kid is protected. Who else even knows we’re thinking about all this?”
“You know that saying about a secret. Two can keep it if one is dead. It’s a bit late to contain it. From the way you described her boyfriend, I wouldn’t count on discretion.”
The Magic Bullet Page 5
