God, is this what You meant by trusting You?
How could he let Maggie slip through his fingers? He loved her, but she obviously had eyes for the rich guy. Who can blame her? He didn’t know what else to do besides throw himself into this new job, as he’d done before with medicine. He hadn’t talked with Katelyn or AK for a while. Maybe he’d give one of them a call. AK was always threatening to show up on his doorstep with a bottle of cognac and a smile, but he always discouraged her advances. Perhaps now he’d take her up on the offer, but he wasn’t sure he was man enough to handle the Russian lioness. He smiled to himself. She’d be a handful for sure.
Nick was holding his head in his hands when the bus swerved. He looked up. An old Iban man sitting across the aisle and a seat ahead had turned to face him, smiling a toothless grin. Nick nodded and smiled back, even though a migraine threatened to settle in.
“You, Dr. Nickloss?” the old man asked.
It surprised Nick, hearing his name and in a voice like Robert’s. “Uh…yes.”
“You save Rentap?”
Nick tilted his head, unsure of who he was talking about.
“Robert,” the old man said. He made the slashing motion across his neck with the back of his thumb and grinned, showing his gums.
Nick nodded and smiled. He was shocked how fast news could travel in the rainforest. “Yes.” Great. His legacy would be that of slashing a man’s neck.
The old Iban flashed an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “You pray for wife and me,” he said in broken English and pointed to the old woman sitting beside him. “We want to know this Jesus.”
CHAPTER 41
SANITIZED
A young man who said he was one of the people that cared for the orangutans picked up Nick at the deserted pier. He was relieved as he was beginning to wonder how he was going to find a place to spend the night.
The young man hoped Nick hadn’t waited too long. He was told to be at the pier by six, and he was only ten minutes late. Nick didn’t mention that he’d been waiting since three. Ms. Boxler’s message came loud and clear: I’m not your travel agent. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. First on his agenda: find out what it would take to get his pilot’s license. It was almost dark when they arrived at the research center.
Anxiety filled Nick’s mind as he walked down the hallway to Dr. Amy’s office. What a tragic ending to a talented woman. He wished he knew more about her. They hadn’t discussed family, but he assumed she was unmarried. He had no idea what kind of life she’d left behind. She was kind and smart and wore large shoes that he could never fill.
Her office door was open and Nick entered, flicking on the light switch as he’d done a few nights ago, expecting to see stacks of books and files and the broken window panes of the medicine cabinet.
Instead, he was shocked. The entire office had been sanitized. The books had been neatly put on shelves and a small stack of files left on one corner of the desk, and the broken glass had been replaced.
He glanced around the office, and any trace of the doctor was gone. None of her diplomas hung on the walls and no personal items sat on the bookshelf.
Nick went to the metal filing cabinet in the corner and pulled out the top drawer. At least it wasn’t locked—but it was empty. He opened all four drawers and found them barren. Strange.
He walked around to the desk and sat in Amy’s chair. The top drawer contained some fresh office supplies—pens, two yellow pads, a stapler, and some sticky notes. The other drawers, including one for hanging file folders, were empty.
A growing sense of confusion mixed with anger filled Nick as he reached for the only stack of papers left in the office. The twenty or so files were neatly marked and arranged by labeled color flags: animal studies, biochemistry, development, scientific articles, and so on. They all had one thing in common—a large red IGF-1 stamp.
There was not one shred of paper about Welltrex or any other drug. Nick sighed deeply. He knew when he’d been duped and felt the sharp knife that his dad had warned him about piercing his back. Ms. Boxler had thrust it in deep.
One of the young women that he’d met the first time he’d arrived at the center knocked at the frame of the door, put her head in, and smiled. She wore a sarong.
“Dr. Hart, would you like some tea or something to eat? I can show you to your quarters anytime you desire.”
Nick’s first thought was to wave her off in anger. But she was not the problem, and he was starving. “I would love some soup or ramen or something…and some water, please.”
“Yes, right away,” she said and started to leave.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said, and she reappeared. “Did you clean Dr. Amy’s office?”
She smiled politely. “No, I’m afraid not. Ms. Boxler was here with three men and cleaned it this afternoon. I hope you find it to your liking.”
Nick looked around the sanitized office. “Yes, thank you.” She was not the enemy, but he sure knew who was.
CHAPTER 42
DUST TO DUST
Wright required only four to five hours of sleep each night. He didn’t need more than that and got most of his work done early in the morning when there were no distractions. But last night his mind seemed to be on what the computer guys called “fatal loops”—the dreaded color wheel spinning and spinning, with no way to stop it. His brain swirled with memories of his childhood, his parents and Grandmama. Wright had never felt this alone, even when he received word of his parents’ deaths and that tragedy had whirled him out of control.
Now he felt adrift and afraid.
At one point during the night, he thought Grandmama had come to visit him and was physically present in the room. The image was neither peaceful nor comforting. Thankfully, the apparition disappeared.
Now he stood naked at the window of the hotel as the early glow of first light lit the eastern sky. Good thing he was already on Welltrex or this crisis might spin him off axis and into a nervous breakdown. Now he felt numb, as though his heart was crying out behind a veil of false security that the medication provided. It could stay veiled; he didn’t want to feel the pain ever. He had Maggie to give him safety and comfort. She could never leave, he would see to that. He wished she was with him now and had been with him through the night, but there was time for that.
At least he’d had his wits about him enough to bring his trusty cologne. He’d find some way to make sure her room was thoroughly sprayed with Confide. The Welltrex was easy; he had only to slip it into her coffee. He thought she loved him anyway, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. Why do that?
The glow of the eastern light pushed back more darkness. They would escort Grandmama’s body soon and fulfill her Hindu wishes to be cremated on the Ganges River. There she would join all the generations before her. It was his sacred duty as the Karta, the eldest male relative, to see it through. He knew it was customary for only men to attend the cremation, but he would be thankful to have Maggie at his side. He thought the whole ritual silly but would have shot Grandmama to the moon if she’d requested.
* * *
Maggie was uncomfortable being the only woman near the base of the Hindu temple. Wright continued to reassure her that it was okay in spite of the other men’s disapproving looks. He said he didn’t care what they thought but instructed her to stand by a massive concrete pillar, out of the way of the crowd. Maggie thought the ritual was fascinating, but the smell was horrendous.
A Hindu priest dressed in white pants, a smock, black vest and dirty brown shoes had met them at the hospital’s morgue. He spoke rapid Bengali and wiggled his head side to side as he spoke. He not only gave Maggie the same disapproving look but engaged in a heated exchange with Wright until a roll of money crossed his palm and smoothed his attitude.
The shadow of the temple fell over them and down the expansive set of stairs that extended into the Ganges River, where boats floated and men waded to their chests. Huge stacks of wood lined both sides of the stairs. Heavy smoke
choked the air with three cremations already in process. Large groups of men mulled around, performing various duties or observing.
Maggie thought it was a strange affair, more like a social gathering, a men’s club: talking, smoking and even laughing, as though meeting on a street corner, discussing the news of the day in casual conversation. Death in Calcutta seemed to be as natural as everyday life.
She brought her scarf over her head and across her face, protecting herself from the stares and stench. She watched the priest and the men Wright had hired take Grandmama’s simple pine casket from the hearse, escort it down the steps and place it upon the wooden pyre—a carefully constructed tipi of logs. The priest waved Wright over and told him to circle the body three times counterclockwise while sprinkling holy water from the river on the pyre. The priest then handed Wright a lit torch to ignite the stack of wood. An accelerant quickly ignited the pyre.
Soon the blaze licked the casket, then engulfed it. Wright joined Maggie, and she put her arm around his waist. “I’m sorry, Wright. I know how much she meant to you.” She could see the flames dancing in his eyes and was surprised by his lack of tears.
“Grandmama would tell me that spreading your ashes on the Ganges frees you from the cycle of death and rebirth as the spirit ascends to Moksha, Nirvana.”
Maggie held him and nodded. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I guess every religion has their beliefs in the afterlife. I guess Grandmama can rest now.”
“She was a beautiful lady. She loved you very much.”
Wright nodded. “Let’s get out of here. The smoke is ghastly. I think we need to get away.”
CHAPTER 43
REVIVERE
There was no reason to stay at the research center, but Nick was not about to call Boxler for logistics on getting back to Singapore. He was more than happy to take the bus back to Kuching and then a puddle jumper to the Singapore International Airport. He was not going to let Boxler mess with him again he decided, as he unlocked the door to his office at the Zelutex complex.
Nick set his briefcase on the desk, took a seat and turned on his desktop computer. This transition from clinical medicine to the medical industry was going to be hard enough on his ego, but he couldn’t shake the image of her smirking when he showed up at the office in the research center. What a jerk. Maybe she had an underlying disdain for doctors; she certainly had the right to be angry at the plastic surgeons that plasticized her face. He’d heed the warning from the young biochemist, Kerri Kim, and steer clear of her.
He slipped a yellow pad from his briefcase, set it on his desk, and tapped on where he had written notes about naming the IGF-1 drug. Regenerate? Rejuvenate? Nick thought about all the ads he’d see on TV for drugs and wondered how they got their names. Some made sense, others not. Often, they were names that were difficult to pronounce or remember.
He liked the name Revive, but upon Googling it he had to laugh—it was the name of a trademarked caffeine pill. He leaned toward his computer keyboard and typed into the Google search bar: what is Latin for revive? The search engine found revivere and defined the Latin word as a verb made up of re, in English “back,” and vivere, in English “live”: “to bring back to life.”
“To bring back to life. Yes,” Nick said aloud, thinking of the healing potential to revive tissue.
He searched the trademark website, and nothing came up. Perfect.
He wrote it on the yellow pad and circled it twice as his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket hoping it was Maggie. The caller ID said unknown. It better not be that witch, Boxler. He reflexively covered his writing as if she might be watching. She’d find a way to nix his idea or take credit for it.
“Hello, this is Dr. Hart.”
“Dr. Hart?” the caller asked.
Nick practically fell out of his chair. The New Zealand accent sounded like Dr. Amy.
“Yes,” he said tentatively.
“Oh, thank God. Dr. Hart, you don’t know me, but this is Allison Anderson. I’m Amy’s sister.”
There was a long pause.
“Dr. Hart are you there, aye?”
“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. Is it Allison?” Nick moved the phone to his other ear. “Allison, I’m sorry to hear what happened to your sister. We are all devastated.”
“Thank you, Dr. Hart. Her service was yesterday here in New Zealand…it was very difficult for my family,” she said, trying to find the words. “Dr. Hart, I’m sorry to bother you, but I got a strange packet by FedEx today. It was from Amy. It was full of scientific reports and other things that make no sense to me, and I have no idea why she would send it here, aye. There was a handwritten note on the front that read, ‘Going upriver with Dr. Hart.’ Do I have the right person?”
“Yes, Allison.”
“Unfortunately, it didn’t have your contact information. I’ve practically called every Dr. Hart in the US, and they all probably think I’m bonkers. But I finally called one in Montana, and it turned out to be your father. He gave me this number. I hope you don’t mind me calling you.”
“Of course not, I’m glad you found me. Is there anything else written on the note?”
“There’s a name circled in red ink…Welltrex.”
Weird. Why would Amy send that information home?
“Dr. Hart, did I lose you?”
“No, Allison, I’m still here. Just thinking is all. Was Amy planning a trip home soon?”
“She was coming home in a month.” Her voice broke. “Should I send this back to her workplace?”
“No!” he said too forcefully. “I’m sorry, Allison. Would you do me a favor and hang on to it for now? I’ll think about this and call you back in a few days. Please tell your family that I’m sorry for their loss. Amy was a really good person.”
“Thank you, Dr. Hart. I will look forward to hearing from you again.” She gave him her number, and he wrote it down on the yellow pad.
Nick hung up and slid his phone onto the desk. Strange. Something is rotten in the kingdom and with Welltrex. Zelutex wouldn’t be the first company to hide or destroy unflattering research data. He didn’t know what to do about it except bypass Boxler and go straight to Wright. He wrote Welltrex on the pad and circled it twice.
* * *
With the help of Kerri Kim, Nick calculated the dose of Revivere for Robert. She liked the name. He figured if he got the team calling it that, Boxler wouldn’t have a voice in the matter. For now, he could only administer the drug intravenously, but the team was close to producing it in pill form.
He stood at Robert’s bedside with two nurses working on the IV setup. Robert was in good spirits, although his incisions appeared raw and angry. The surrounding tissues were swollen and his nasal tube still in place.
“Robert, this medication is going to help with the swelling and inflammation. It should focus your immune system on healing the bone of your face and jaw, as well as the skin. It will help with growth and regeneration of the tissues.”
Robert tried talking through his wired jaw.
Nick thought he was trying to say, “Safe?”
“Yes, Robert. I believe it is. From all that I’ve read and talked with the team, it appears safe.” Nick knew he was wearing his company hat. “But you know, Robert, every medicine can have adverse reactions.”
Robert pointed at him and tried to say something through his clenched teeth.
At first, Nick didn’t understand, but Robert persisted until Nick asked, “Would I use it on myself?” to which Robert nodded.
“That’s a good question, my friend.” Nick stopped to think and answered honestly. “Robert, knowing the amount of healing that needs to happen to your face and knowing the results of the trials so far…yes, I would.”
Robert gave him a thumbs-up and held out his arm so the nurses could insert the needle into his IV line.
Nick, Robert and the nurses watched as the medicine slowly dripped in. The small bag of me
dication took fifteen minutes to empty into Robert’s system while the nurses kept track of his heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature to monitor for any reaction. The procedure went smoothly.
When one of the nurses unplugged the tubing, Robert shrugged and gave another thumbs-up.
“We’ll give you another dose this evening and two more tomorrow,” Nick said, then turned his back to pack up his things.
He heard Robert’s breath through his teeth quicken, and he snapped his attention back to the man. Robert was thrashing about with his hands around his throat. Nick felt the blood drain from his face and heart, but before he could react, Robert stopped and smiled with his eyes.
“Oh, my God, Robert. You joker!”
The old man laughed as much as he could around his wired jaw and laceration and pointed at Nick.
“Yes, you got me, ol’ man. You practically gave me a heart attack.”
CHAPTER 44
KUMĀRĪ
Maggie sighed with relief as Wright touched the jet down safely in Singapore. A helicopter ride to his island and she would be back with Nick. He had not called her and vice versa. She wanted to talk with him face-to-face. She still had no idea what to do and continued to pray, but it seemed like the more she prayed, her only answer was overwhelming silence. How had she lost her connection with God in a handful of days? Father, are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? But she knew that was not how her heavenly Father worked. She had experienced God’s silence only a few times in her life. She would have to trust in Him and her faith.
The turbines of the helicopter roared to life, spinning the blades overhead, and the chopper started its slow lift from the landing pad. Wright flew the usual path past downtown, but instead of veering left over the Singapore Straits and to Raffles Island, he abruptly turned south and then east. She glanced at him to make sure he was okay. He’d certainly been acting out of sorts.
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