Forbidden Cure Part Two

by William Rubin

  Todd says flatly, “Yes, mother. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “I hope this doesn’t hurt the lab. It can—” Ben says before being interrupted again.

  “How can you be so heartless? A woman’s dead... our son’s grieving.”

  Todd peels himself off of her, offering a sad smile to his mother. Years of her drama have perfected his role as dutiful son. His voice is high but steady. “You’re both right to be concerned. It’s an unspeakable tragedy, but we have to be mindful of the lab’s reputation too. If our medication killed her and word gets out... I don’t know what we’d do.”

  “He’s right, Freida. We’ve got to keep this under wraps, hope things blow over for Toddy’s sake.” Then sternly, “Not a word of this to anyone, you hear?”

  She nods her head quickly, then scampers teary-eyed to the hall bathroom.

  Ben looks at his son evenly. “Guess what comes around, goes around.” He pats Todd on the arm. “Remember to watch out for number one. It’s what Irina always did.”

  Chapter 11

  As Todd walks into the donut shop on 10th Street, he spots Limerock standing at the counter looking impressive in his handmade, Italian suit and dark overcoat. “Round two of ‘slumming for recruits,’ I see?”

  “Afraid so, Todd.” He smiles. “Some recruits play harder to get than others.”

  Todd nods at the girl behind the counter. “The usual.” Then shaking his head at Grayson, “You were right about the police. Worked us all over the other day like common criminals.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t get a whiff of anything wrong. They’ll never leave you alone.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  Grayson shakes his head. “No, but just look what they did to poor Martin Shkreli. And that was about money, not murder.”

  “Murder? Who said anything about murder?”

  Grayson puts his hands up. “Police talking, not me.”

  Todd gathers his order and turns to go, but Grayson blocks his path.

  “Todd, you’re one of the rising stars in our industry, and no amount of tragedy in Doctor Hyslop’s lab could convince me otherwise.” Grayson nods his head. “That’s why I’m sweetening my offer. I’ll make you Director of R & D, tripling your current salary. You’ll have a staff of forty-five reporting to you, and you can jump ship before any further disaster strikes down Hyslop’s lab. What do you say?”

  Zigler eyes him carefully. “Why do I get the feeling this is as much about me leaving Harold’s lab as it is joining your company?”

  “Survival of the fittest, Todd. If I can strengthen my company while weakening Harold’s, all the better.” He nods. “This is a very lucrative and prestigious position, Todd. Opportunities like this don’t come by very often.”

  “I understand. But why go out of your way to put the full court press on me? From what you said the other day, Harold’s lab is done for if the police implicate us in Irina Malekoviec’s death.”

  “That’s true, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to pass.” Grayson shakes his head. “Publicity like that would be very damaging to our industry.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Grayson motions him toward a table. “A patient death from an immunologic-based treatment would create a public uproar. The liberal media would have a field day with it, painting us all as greedy, Frankenstein-like scientists.” Grayson shakes his head, then bears his alabaster teeth. “In short order we’d have more government regulation and oversight, less grants for research, and the truly greedy ones, the insurance companies, would use this as an excuse to deny paying for our treatments by labeling them experimental and unsafe.”

  “Wow, you’ve really thought this through.”

  “I have, Todd, which is why I’d like you to join a council I’m creating. It will be composed of thought leaders from every branch of our industry: private sector, academics, regulatory groups, and so on. It’s important we control the messaging about what we do, not those who oppose us.” Grayson searches Todd’s eyes. “I want you on the council regardless of whether you choose to work for me, understood?”

  Todd looks down at his watch. “Look, I’m running real late and this is a lot to think about. Give me your card and I promise I’ll give you a call after the dust clears at the lab.”

  Grayson smiles. “You certainly are a noble one, Todd, hanging in there when others would be fleeing for the nearest exit.” He rises, hands Todd a business card, and shakes his hand. “Fair enough. Here, my cell’s on the back.”

  Zigler gives a quick nod as he gets up. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” And he walks briskly away.

  Chapter 12

  Her soft and sensual blue eyes fill me with warmth, hunger. Her smile radiates love and peace, awakening long dormant feelings.

  My mind pulls back from the close-up. I see her naked body, her long, flowing, dark hair, her smooth and supple neck. The body I long for, the spirit I can’t be without.

  Then disaster strikes.

  A small crack, a tiny fissure at first, forms around her navel, spreading like an earthquake in all directions. Terrifying fear fills her face, her mouth opening in a silent scream as the image shatters before me.

  I lunge forward in bed, my body soaked in sweat, my heart racing.

  Michelle.

  Feeling empty and alone, I stare into the darkness, wishing she was next to me. I lumber out of bed, check on the kids. Good, sleeping peacefully.

  The stairs creak under my weight, the moonlight spilling in the front door, casting an eerie shadow on the floor below. I turn right into the dining room, then the kitchen. Grabbing a lone glass, I reach atop the cabinet for solace. I pour myself three fingers of Ballantine’s Scotch, swirling it in the glass before me.

  So real and yet so fleeting. The vision of her haunts me, clouding in my mind as my dream-state gives way to wakefulness. Something about her calls out to me, reassuring me she is still alive. But how, where? I shake my head in anger. How can I trust anything after months of torment, after burying her twice already?

  Chapter 13

  “The cause of death was acute and complete kidney failure due to glomerulonephritis, Detective. This lead to widespread organ damage and a fatal heart attack.”

  “Globerulo...” Kennedy says with a shake of his head.

  “Glomerulonephritis. The victim’s kidneys were destroyed, obliterated by some toxin I have yet to identify.” The ME, Doctor Audrey McGowan, looks down at the dissected kidney in her hands. “If you look here, Detective Kennedy, you can clearly see—”

  Kennedy, his skin pasty and wan, begs off. “I’ll take your word on that, Doctor McGowan.” He swallows hard. “Any idea what caused all the bleeding in the skin?”

  McGowan leans back, a hint of a smile on her face. Poor Kennedy. I’ll need a different approach. She slides a thin, white drape over Irina’s corpse. “I’ve sent samples of the kidneys and skin for what’s called immunofluorescence microscopy. It’s a special kind of staining. The results should be back soon.”

  Kennedy says, his color and strength returning, “Well, anything else you can tell me in the meantime?”

  “Whatever did this attacked her with unprecedented speed and potency. Death overtook her in a matter of minutes.”

  Kennedy nods his head, reflexively swatting his notepad into his hand. “Okay then. Guess we’ll wait on the tests you ordered.”

  “Slides, actually.”

  “Huh?”

  “It was slides for the immuno-, aw, uh, never mind. Say where’s Detective Simmons? I thought he was working this case with you?”

  “I’ve got him chasing his tail at the precinct.” Kennedy smirks. “It’s the one thing he seems to be good at.”

  McGowan raises her eyebrows. “Well, we all have our limitations, Detective.”

  Kennedy, frustrated, looks down at the covered body and mumbles, “’Cept Chris. He’d be all over this shit.”

  “Pardon me?”

  Head
ing toward the door, Kennedy pauses, turns his head back and offers a rueful smile. “Never mind, Doc. Thanks for your time.”

  Chapter 14

  “So, Ms. St. James, you worked for Doctor Gorelick?” Kennedy asks.

  Kerline nods her head. “For ’bout sixteen months. Todd ’e brought me over during de summer.”

  “Tell me about Doctor Gorelick.”

  “Great doc, ’e refers a lot to Doctor Hyslop. Dat’s ’ow I got to know Todd.”

  Kennedy nods. “I understand Gorelick is not well-liked by his staff.”

  Kerline looks down, smooths a skirt that doesn’t need it. “Gorelick, ’e not a nice man. Nasty to staff. Gamblin’ problem. Drinks too much.” She peers at Kennedy. “Ya know what ’e done to me?”

  Kennedy stares back. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Anger flashes across Kerline’s face. “’e start out nice, like ’e want ta be me friend, but before ya know it, de true ’im come out.” She smooths the skirt again. “Told me ’ow pretty I was, ’ow fine I be lookin’ in me clothes. For I know it ’e’s pressing up ’gainst me, kissin’ and gropin’ me.” She shakes her head viciously. “Disgusting man, dat Gorelick.” She makes a spitting motion. “Disgusting.”

  “So you filed charges against him for sexual harassment and assault?”

  “Ya man. Ain’t about no money, is about stoppin’ ’im from doin’ it again to somebody else.”

  “I understand. Have you had any contact with Doctor Gorelick or any of his staff since you left?”

  “Just Sally. She be workin’ de front desk for ’im, stayin’ far way from ’im as she can.” Kerline lets out a derisive laugh. “God bless! Dat Sally, she de only nice one dere.”

  “Did you ever see Doctor Gorelick drinking in the office or doing anything else inappropriate?”

  “’Side from de sexual stuff wid me?”

  Kennedy nods quickly. “Yes, aside from that.”

  “Well, sometime if you stop by ’is office and ’e on the phone, ’e hang up real quick like. And other times ’e ’ave dis mean looker come by named ’Mitri. Dey always ’ave de door closed, wid lots a yellin’ when ’Mitri dere.’”

  “Mitri or Gorelick?”

  “’D-Mitri. Gorelick, ’e just sit dere and take it me guess; not speak much.”

  Kennedy taps his notepad on the conference room table. “How about a patient named Irina Malekoviec; do you remember her?”

  Kerline nods in recognition. “Oh yay. Nice lady; kept to ’erself mostly, but nice. She a patient for ’bout six monds ’fore I left. Got no luck wid all dem studies Gorelick tried on ’er. ’Bout a mond ’fter I come ’ere, I seen we preppin’ some medication for ’er.”

  Kennedy’s eyes narrow. “Did that surprise you?”

  Kerline waves her hand at the detective. “No way! Like I told you, no damn ding Gorelick tried be workin’ on ’er. When dat ’appen, you be damn sure Gorelick send over ’ere for treatment, try and make ’er better dat way.”

  Kennedy stops writing, looks up from his pad. “Tell me about Jamal Richards.”

  Kerline laughs hard and winks at Kennedy. “You be really pushing me buttons wid dat one.”

  Kennedy says cautiously. “How so? Isn’t he a patient of the lab’s?”

  “Yah, ’e is, cause a me.”

  Kennedy puts on a confused face.

  She waves her hand at Kennedy again. “Might as well tell it like it be—you just gonna find out later, anyway. Jamal been dating me daughter Shanny, and stepping out on ’er de whole time.” Shaking her head, she continues, “Got a girl wid child. Dank God it not me Shanny! Made ’er get rid of it. Dat boy bad, bad news.”

  “So why help him?”

  A smug look overtakes Kerline’s face. “I figure me try and ’elp Jamal. If it don’t work out, maybe Shanny she lose interest, break it off.”

  “And?”

  Kerline slaps her thigh, startling Kennedy. “Ain’t ’ad no damn luck wid it. She still wid dat damn boy!”

  Kennedy nods in acknowledgment, then looks through his notes. “Just about ready to wrap it up, Ms. St. James... Can you tell me what work you did on the medicine used to treat Irina Malekoviec?”

  “I done de quality testing on de molecule.” Then smiling, filled with pride, “Todd, ’e know ’ow good I am; ’e just look over what I done ’fore sending it on out.”

  “I see.” Kennedy eyes her carefully. “What do you know about the three deaths that happened with Doctor Hyslop’s patients about a year and a half ago?”

  Kerline pulls back. “Year ’n a ’alf? Way ’fore I got ’ere.” She stares at the floor, trying to remember. Thinking out loud, she says, “Hyslop don’t tell nobody ’ere nodin’ ’e don’t have to. But, Toddy mention dem once or twice, said Hyslop was working too ’ard, wearing too many ’ats. Dey made ’im back off, slow down, ’ire Toddy to pick up the slack.

  Kennedy reaches out, shakes Kerline’s hand as he smiles. “We’re all set for now, Ms. St. James. You’re free to go. Here’s my card in case you remember anything else.”

  “Dank you, Detective. I be sure to do dat.”

  Chapter 15

  Bing Crosby’s lilting voice fills the room with Christmas cheer. A bowl of popcorn stands ready for stringing on our tree. This first holiday season without Michelle is excruciating for me, but I keep it light, festive, for the kids’ sake. “Which one should we put on next, kiddo?”

  “The big angel, Daddy, the big angel,” Christine says with glee.

  James nods with excitement. “Yeah, the angel.”

  “The angel it is. Hey Dad, can you pass me the step stool,” I say with a grin. “I’ve got an angel to mount.” Dad looks at me with amusement, a smirk stretching across his face as the kids open up a box of tinsel.

  “Uh, yeah, that didn’t come out quite right,” I say with a laugh as I climb up.

  Dad points to my backside. “Your pocket’s ringing, Son.”

  “Huh?” I look toward my back pocket, catching myself as I almost slip. Back down I go. “Hello?”

  “Chris, it’s Doctor Jacobs, I have some good news. I’ve spoken to Doctor Hyslop. He’s redesigned your formulation and is confident he’s eliminated the problems from the first dose.”

  “That’s great,” I say with a painted-on smile. I nod to Dad and mouth “Jacobs” as I place the angel down. Covering my other ear, I walk out of the living room toward the front hallway.

  “Yes, it’s very promising.” So why do I detect hesitation?

  “Chris, a lot rides on this second treatment.”

  “I know. We went through it the other day, the timing and all,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Well, there’s more to it than that.” Jacobs clears his throat—never a good sign.

  “Based on my experience with prior patients, the second dose will be decisive.” His voice drips with foreboding.

  “Yeah, how so?” Is it gonna be the one Hyslop kills me with, just like the pianist?

  “Many patients had unpredictable, poor results the first time around, similar to what you went through.”

  Why is he drawing this out? See spot. See spot run. Geez, I wish he’d just get to it so I can decide.

  “Those who were ultimately cured had two things in common: the second treatment improved them dramatically and their third treatment followed exactly five days after their second dose.”

  There’s that damn pause again! “Uh-huh,” I say distractedly, my head a jumbled mess.

  “The third dose has to be timed precisely to ‘lock in’ the treatment. If it’s given too late, the effect will likely be lost forever.” Jacobs exhales forcefully. “A third dose given five days after the second confers a 94 percent chance of a cure. By day six that falls to 72 percent and by day seven to 14 percent.”

  I nod my head in agreement and hold up two fingers. “I get it, Doctor. Scout’s honor. No disappearing anymore like the last time.”

  “That’s right, Chris. Any delay would be
irreparable.”

  “Say, what about the patients who didn’t do so well with the second dose. How’d they end up?”

  A moment of excruciating silence. Shit, why’d I have to ask? More deaths tied to Hyslop that we don’t know about?

  His voice becomes grave. “Three did not survive the second dose. Those who did became severely compromised within a few hours.”

  I look over my shoulder, smiling wistfully at the kids as they drape silver and gold tinsel on Grandpa’s head. So much at stake here, so much we don’t know yet about Hyslop and his treatments.

  I rub the side of my face. Arresting Durand thrust me into the public eye, and my resignation was never announced. As far as Hyslop or anyone else in the public knows, I’m still Chief of the DMC. Would he be so brazen as to kill an NYPD division chief in the midst of his lab being investigated? Unlikely. But if Malekoviec’s death was an accident like the other three, I could still be next. I shake my head. And if I stop now, what’s there to look forward to? A life of disability, of being controlled by my disease?

  Dad sticks his tongue out at the kids and grabs Christine playfully as she and James giggle. I take a deep breath as the realization settles in. No way to give them the life they deserve without taking my chances.

  “Chris, are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. When can I get the next dose?”

  “Tomorrow morning at nine would work. Is that good for you?”

  “That’ll work, Doctor. I’ll see you then.” I stare at the phone for a long moment, then slip it into my pocket and stride toward the living room, determined to reclaim the life I’ve left behind.

  CONTINUED IN FORBIDDEN CURE 3: SORDID ASPIRATIONS

  §

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  William Rubin is a practicing physician who enjoys weaving tales of medical/scientific intrigue. Writing for him is equal parts catharsis, creativity, and escape from the rigors of a busy medical practice and the joys and challenges of raising a family.