The Magic Bullet

by Andrew Neiderman

  He was fumbling, trying to understand why he was failing.

  “Let it go for now, Allan. In a week or so, I’ll give her a call myself, maybe ease her and her son back into my office.”

  “A week or so? At least a half a million Americans alone die from cancer a year. Do the math. I have many times. That’s about 1374 people every day or about fifty-seven people an hour. About a dozen have died since I hung up the phone, and that’s just in America!”

  “Whatever results you get in the lab, you’re not going to stop all that overnight, Allan.”

  “That’s exactly what we did for that little girl and for Paul Wellman, isn’t it? Overnight.”

  “Allan…”

  “No, no. You ever wonder who the last child was who contracted polio before the Salk Vaccine was widely distributed? You ever think what it must have been like for the mother of that child?”

  “You could drive yourself nuts with all those thoughts. C’mon. You have patients who need you now in Los Angeles. Go back to work. I promise I’ll stay on this.”

  Allan shook his head, still stunned.

  “I thought I was developing a nice rapport with that woman, but I guess I should have offered more,” Allan mumbled. “I should have done what they did in the Godfather, made an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

  “They weren’t referring To more money in that movie, Allan. Relax. Get yourself together and go back to Los Angeles.”

  He looked up at Joe quickly.

  “I know Toby would like that.”

  “Stop it.”

  They heard the phone ring and both froze. Allan’s first thought was that Demi changed her mind. They listened as Toby answered.

  “Joe,” she called. “It’s Maggie at the office.”

  Weber went to his phone at the desk.

  “What’s up, Maggie? I’m leaving in a few minutes for the office.”

  He listened and looked at Allan.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said. “Well, I heard about this guy. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m on my way. Stay cool.”

  He cradled the phone.

  “What?” Allan asked.

  “Another patient of mine suffering lung cancer…stage two…he checked himself out of the hospital and is at my office demanding to see me before I start normal visiting hours. He’s sort of a small-town hood. Greg Reuben, a very good GP referred him and told me about him. He’s right out of central casting for Mafia movies.”

  Allan thought a moment.

  “He was on the same floor with Paul Wellman?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  Allan started to shake his head.

  “Were you seen when you injected Mr. Wellman with Taylor’s white blood cells? Allan!”

  “There was a patient who came by, kind of rough looking.”

  “Jesus, Allan.”

  “I didn’t think he saw anything, and I didn’t spend any time with him.”

  Joe sat quickly, like someone who had been punched hard in the stomach. “This guy, Frankie Vico, was in the room right next to Paul Wellman. He obviously witnessed Wellman’s miraculous recovery,” Joe said. “A patient who has the same diagnoses as he has, even worse in fact, gets up and walks out of the hospital.”

  “I don’t see any problem, Joe. You simply tell him you don’t know anything about any other doctor visiting your patient and tell him the best thing he can do is return to the hospital.”

  “You didn’t meet this guy. He’s not exactly a paragon of reasonableness.”

  “What can he do once you explain it to him? I’m sure his medical knowledge is quite limited.”

  “What can he do? I have a family here, Allan. A desperate man does desperate things as it is, much less a hood. You created quite a problem for us.”

  “I created?” Allan shook his head, but before he could respond any further, he caught sight of Toby standing in the doorway.

  “What’s happening, Joe?” she asked. “Maggie sounded very upset.”

  Both Allan and Joe wondered how much she had overheard of their conversation.

  “It’s this difficult patient I picked up a few days ago. He checked himself out of the hospital. He just started his chemotherapy treatment.”

  “What did you just mean by telling Allan he created quite a problem?” When she looked at him, Allan saw fire in her eyes. “How did Allan create a problem?”

  Joe turned to Allan.

  “It really was my fault, Toby,” Allan said quickly. “I saw this patient of Joe’s and I described a treatment we were conducting in Los Angeles and I suppose he thought he wasn’t getting the best treatment here as a result. Don’t worry. I’ll go to the office with Joe and straighten it out.”

  She looked at Joe. He made no effort to deny or confirm what Allan was saying, but she knew her husband well enough to see that she wasn’t getting the full story.

  “I’ve got to get the kids to school,” she said. The last look she gave Allan telegraphed her thoughts quite clearly to him: Get out.

  “I’m heading back to Los Angeles right afterward,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality, Toby. The kids look great, too.”

  She nodded, glanced at Joe and left.

  Joe sat back for a moment and took a deep breath.

  “You better be one helluva talker,” he told Allan. “Let’s go. Follow me to the office.”

  “Right. I’ll handle it. Don’t worry. Sorry,” Allan said.

  However, the moment he set eyes on Frankie Vico, he knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

  “What are you doing to yourself, Mr. Vico?” Joe asked as soon as they entered the office lounge. Frankie was sitting there with Tony. He didn’t respond. He looked closely at Allan and nodded.

  “You’re the guy I saw with Wellman,” he told him, pointing his right forefinger, but deliberately holding his his hand to look like a pistol. “You gave him something that saved his life. What was it?”

  “Come into my office, please,” Joe said.

  “Yeah,” Frankie said, rising. “Let’s go into your office.”

  Tony rose, too. They followed Allan and Joe into Joe’s office. It wasn’t very large. There was one other chair beside the chair behind Joe’s desk. Frankie took it. Joe went behind his desk, and Allan leaned against the wall on his left. Tony folded his arms and took a stance at the door as if to say, “No one gets out of here.”

  “Why did you check yourself out of the hospital and stop your treatment, Mr. Vico?” Joe asked as soon as he sat.

  Frankie glared at Allan.

  “I know you guys got something else up your sleeves, something better than this chemo crap I took. I want some of this new drug and now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Vico,” Allan began. “I work at U.S.C. Medical, and I’ve known Doctor Weber for many years.” He smiled. “We went to college together. He called me in to consult on some of his cases, but we have nothing up our sleeves. You’re getting the best treatment currently available to any patient at any medical center. Doctor Weber keeps up with all the latest…”

  “What the hell did you give Wellman that night?” Frankie demanded. “I saw him the day before. He was knocking on Death’s door. I saw him in the morning, too. And I seen him just before I left the hospital. The nurse called his recuperation a miracle, and I don’t believe in no miracles. Something tells me you don’t either, Doctor Whoever-You-Are.”

  He looked at Joe.

  “So what’s with this secrecy? Whatever you used, why don’t you want to use it on me? You demanding some big bucks? Let me hear your price.”

  “We have no price, Mr. Vico,” Joe said.

  “No price. So what is it, you discriminating or something? Playing God?”

  “Hardly, Mr. Vico,” Allan said, smiling. “To think—”

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Doc. I’m not in your league when it comes to this stuff, but I’m not stupid. I know when I’m being fucked over. The b
est out there have tried. Something’s going on here.”

  Allan shook his head. “When you saw me, I was examining Mr. Wellman and—”

  “I saw you give him a shot of something.”

  “It was part of his regular chemotherapy. Doctor Weber was unable to be there. It was very late, and I happened to be there…”

  “Doing what?”

  “Look, our work is very complicated, Mr. Vico. If I began to describe…”

  Frankie looked at Tony. “Where have we heard this line about things being too complicated to explain, Tony?”

  “Every time we faced a fucking liar,” Tony said.

  “Exactly.”

  Frankie leaned forward. “I’m in no condition at the moment to threaten anyone with what I might do myself, Doc, but I’ll be back. For the time being, I have my own extra arms and legs,” he added, throwing a nod toward Tony. “If I leave here today and down the road I learn you guys lied or had something you weren’t sharing with me, I’ll be very upset—so upset that my rage will last after I’m gone, if you get my drift. Where I come from, we value loyalty and vendetta is a birthright.”

  He studied Allan and glanced quickly at Joe. Frankie was an excellent poker player. He caught the look in Joe Weber’s eyes and felt even more confident.

  “Why not be straight up with me now and save everyone a lot of grief?” Frankie followed in a tone so reasonable that anyone would have dropped his guard.

  “We are being straight up with you, Mr. Vico,” Allan said. “Mr. Wellman’s recuperation is remarkable, and we’re studying it. As soon as we come to some conclusions, we’ll submit our findings to the medical—”

  “Remarkable, huh? Yeah, I’d say remarkable. What about this other patient of yours, Doc?” he asked Joe Weber. “This girl they’re talking about. She was dying, too, right?”

  “That’s an entirely different circumstance,” Allan said. “No two cancers are precisely the same, Mr. Vico. That’s why we have different protocols…treatments for them. Men who get prostate cancer, for example, have a number of options, and the success rate for cure is different, say, from people who contract pancreatic cancer or stomach cancer or even throat cancers. It’s impossible to give you a complete explanation now. Doctor Weber is doing the right things for you. Return to the hospital and let him continue.”

  “Continue to kill me slowly, you mean.” Frankie nodded and sat back. “I get it. This is like those committees who decide who should get the transplants, right? You guys have me way down on the totem pole.”

  “That’s really silly, Mr. Vico,” Joe said.

  “If it is, you’re okay, Doc. If it ain’t…”

  “Are you threatening me?” Joe asked, his face turning crimson.

  Frankie looked at Allan and then back at Joe before he nodded to Tony, who helped him to his feet. They started for the door. He turned and smiled.

  “I’m a dead man, Doc. How can a dead man threaten anyone?” He and Tony continued out.

  The heavy silence they left behind seemed to sink into Joe Weber. He shrank in his chair.

  “You were right. That guy is from central casting,” Allan said.

  “What’s that line about being careful who you pretend to be because you might be who you pretend to be? This is bad, Allan. From how you described Mrs. Petersen’s boyfriend, the news about her son could fly through this place. Palm Springs is really a small town, regardless of its grand worldwide cachet.”

  “He’d only hurt the kid if he spreads it around.”

  “You said he was more interested in the money than the kid,” Joe reminded him. “We might have to visit with him, with both of them, and let them know about Vico so the boyfriend realizes why he should clamp his mouth shut.”

  Allan thought a moment.

  “Okay, I’ll do that before I leave.”

  “It’s going to really spook them, Allan. You better think hard about what you’re going to tell them. There’s not much room for any mistake.”

  “I understand. Damn it,” he added. “I can’t believe we have to be concerned with such a thing. Especially now, when we should be entirely focused on the science.”

  Joe nodded.

  “I don’t want to say, ’told you so,’ but it’s the difference between working in a purely scientific environment in a laboratory and being a practicing physician who deals with people, with emotions instead of microscope slides,” Joe said, not hiding his disdain. “Once in a while, they oughta give the Nobel prize to someone in the field day in and day out and not only the hotshots.”

  Allan nodded, even though he wasn’t in total agreement.

  “I’d better get going,” he said. “I’ll call you right after I visit with them.”

  Joe stared out the window. His fear was palpable.

  “We’re just trying to do something wonderful here, Joe,” Allan continued. “We can’t let a scumbag like that get in our way.”

  “I understand,” Joe said almost in a whisper. He turned to Allan. “But understand that’s the kind of scumbag who with his dying breath would give the order to blow up my house with my family in it.”

  “I’m on it,” Allan said.

  He hurried out, as much to get away from the terror in his friend’s eyes as to ensure there would be no danger for any of them, including himself.

  Warren woke in the midst of a rage that had begun in a nightmare and remained with him. He was convinced now that neither Demi nor her brat appreciated him. What were those two before he arrived on the scene?

  Demi was a widow with a pain in the ass kid, living a rather boring life as a beautician and a third wheel whenever she went out with her sister and her husband. She was attractive with a great figure, yes. And he really had no complaints about her lovemaking, but he could get that almost anywhere he wanted. There were plenty of single women out there just dying to crawl into bed with him.

  And look at all he provided beside that. He was contributing to the financial costs of their arrangement and spending plenty on Demi and even the little bastard. Why was it that what he said went for so little around here? She was turning that brat into more than just a spoiled kid. She was weakening her own son.

  How was he going to survive out there without someone like me to protect him? Warren thought.

  More important, what did they give him in return? She lets the kid mouth off to him, insult him in public, ridicule him, and doesn’t do much more than ask him to be nice. That apology the other night couldn’t have been more phony. If this doctor wanted the kid to give only as much blood as anyone would donate, what the hell was the big deal? Look at the upside. Man, they could take some great vacation.

  His rage was like a vise gripping him. He could feel the anger at the back of his neck. It made him so hot he had to go for a cold beer. Some breakfast.

  After he took a gulp, he stood there in the small kitchen with its cheap imitation granite countertops, its linoleum floor, and its mediocre appliances. He still hadn’t gotten around to replacing the crummy cabinets, but why do it? The whole place needed renovation. How had he trapped himself like this? What the fuck was he doing here, babysitting a widow and her brat? He felt like tearing the place apart and might have done just that if it weren’t for the surprising sound of the door buzzer.

  God help him if it’s one of those Jehovah Witnesses or something, he vowed as he plodded toward the door, his shoulders up and his arms swinging like some resurrected cave man. He nearly ripped the door off its hinges when he pulled it open. However, the sight of Allan Parker standing there stopped him dead in his tracks. He could feel himself instantly cool down. Demi must have changed her mind, he thought gleefully. Well, okay. Now, we’re talking.

  “She call you? Tell you To meet her and the kid here or something?” he asked without saying hello or inviting Allan in.

  “No. I didn’t want to upset her at work. I thought I would talk to you first so you can realize the seriousness of the situation and do what is necessary f
or both Mrs. Petersen and her son’s best interests,” Allan told him. He didn’t want to come right out and say he was here To make sure Warren didn’t mouth off to anyone else about Taylor’s blood.

  “Huh? What’s this now, a new negotiation? Because if it is, I want to tell you right off that you’re not offering enough as it is.”

  “Please, may I come in?”

  Warren saw Allan gaping at the can of beer in his hand.

  “What? Yeah, sure,” he said stepping back. He held up the beer can. “I don’t usually drink this shit this early, but I woke up with a helluva hangover and thirst. You know what I mean, I’m sure.”

  “Of course,” Allan said forcing a smile. He hated even being in the presence of a man like Warren. He felt like someone holding down sour milk.

  “C’mon in the living room,” Warren said. He led Allan and then quickly moved to get his boots off the sofa. “Sit, sit. You don’t want a beer, do you?”

  “No. Thank you,” Allan said.

  Warren fell onto the sofa and nodded at the easy chair. Allan forced as friendly an expression as he could to cover his revulsion at being alone with him. Then he sat.

  “Actually, I got bad news for you, Doc. Bad for both of us, actually. She don’t want the kid to give anymore blood no matter what you offer. I had it out with her over it. I think she’s being stupid and he’s being his usual smart-ass, selfish way. Maybe we can go at it again if you offer a lot more, but…”

  “No, I know all that. She’s already called to tell me so and firmly, too.”

  “Oh? So what do you want from me? You think I can convince her? Believe me, Doc. I tried.” He looked around. “I’m even thinking of taking a vacation from all this, maybe a permanent vacation.”

  “I’m sorry if this has caused problems between you,” Allan said quickly, even though it filled him with joy to hear it.

  “No, no. It ain’t just this.” Warren looked at his can of beer and then sipped it, doctor or no doctor sitting there. “I ain’t appreciated, if you know what I mean. And I’m sick of babying that brat.”

  “Please listen, Mr. Moore. I’m here because there’s been a serious complication and I wanted to be sure you were aware of it and took the proper precautions.”