“It’s not cynical, it’s prudent.”
The old man knew Angela had outflanked him when Mitchell refused his advice, so Prather made the best business and financial adjustments he could to protect his empire from Angela’s feline appetite.
Mitch and Angela’s wedding was the highlight of the Houston social season. They rented the Four Seasons ballroom for their eight hundred guests. Angela lived up to her name as she floated down from heaven on the Grand Staircase in her Vera Wang original white satin gown with gold embroidered roses and a strand of Tiffany pearls.
The couple moved into a five thousand square foot modern home in Bayou Woods. Mitchell went to work for his father. Angela worked as marketing director for a small Houston drug company until the birth of their twin girls. Initially proud of her maternal achievement, she played the role of doting mother. She dressed and displayed the girls for everyone’s approval. Soon she became bored with them as she’d become indifferent to Mitch.
After several years of self-delusion about his marriage, reality struck Mitch and he began drinking heavily. The marriage lasted eight years, and afterward, Angela felt she’d earned every cent of the settlement outlined in the final divorce papers.
Finally unburdened of Mitchell, Angela sent the twins to boarding school. Financially she felt comfortable and secure, but she needed more—much more.
Still beautiful, she attracted the most desirable men in Houston society and had passionate short-lived affairs with several. She enjoyed the dating, loved the sex, but discovered that she’d come to appreciate the simplicity of an unencumbered life.
At the National Pharmaceutical’s Promotion and Research meeting, Jason Bloom, the CEO of Ashley Pharmaceuticals, approached Angela and made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. She joined Ashley at the age of twenty-eight and spent fifteen years clawing her way up. She knew that she was an important component of Ashley’s success, but talent, hard work, and even ruthlessness in the pursuit of Ashley’s interest couldn’t break the buddy barrier. Angela wasn’t and never could be one-of-the-boys.
Angela worked out five days a week. She had her own personal trainer who found little to do with this hard-working compulsive woman. She still weighed 118 lbs., the same as on her wedding day, but now a larger percentage of that weight was muscle. She regularly went to her spa for massages, facials, and nearly every indulgence that promised eternal beauty and health. Every night before bed, she applied the newest and most expensive revitalizing creams and gels. Each morning before putting on her makeup, she applied SPF 45 sun block. In spite of all these efforts, she groaned before the mirror each day checking her face from every angle. When she saw the deepening crow’s feet, the furrowing between her eyes, and the increasing prominence of her nasolabial folds, she knew it was the first sign; the pink blush of youth was fading. She’d had the third series of Botox injections and was considering aspiration of her own body fat to fill the deeper creases on her face.
Angela spent little time with her girls. They were home for school vacations and holidays and they’d taken several trips to Europe. She’d managed to poison their feelings about their father who cared about them, but was unable, due to his drinking, to maintain a relationship with them. When Mitch took the girls one weekend and the police arrested him for driving under the influence, Angela sought and won a restraining order. Mitch could see his girls only under supervision.
“Please, Angela,” Mitch begged, “I know I screwed up, but don’t take the girls away from me.”
“Sorry, Mitch, but you’re the world’s worst role-model for them. I just won’t have it.”
Angela was not one to give up easily. She sought by hard work to achieve what she couldn’t by intrigue and manipulation. The company recognized her value with raises, bonuses, and perks. Jason Bloom, Ashley’s CEO had nominated Angela for achievement awards and she’d won several, including the prestigious Genesis industry award. She had everything except the keys to the boys’ locker room atop Ashley Towers.
Angela was too smart to burn her bridges. She met with Jason Bloom regularly. From time to time, she’d give it a shot. Both had their scripts, but Jason had final editorial control.
“You know what I want, Jason, and you know I’ve earned it,” she said with her prettiest smile.
Jason sat behind his chrome, glass-topped desk, the city of Houston in view behind. “I have to say one thing for you, Angela, you don’t give up.”
“Neither do you, Jason. Look where you are. We both know how valuable I am to Ashley, so I don’t understand why you refuse to promote me. I do have options.”
“Don’t force me to say out loud what we both fully understand. Social graciousness and civility have great value in business and I think you know that these niceties save us from calling forth our own emotional demons.”
Angela smiled. “I’ll say it then. You don’t trust me and you never will.”
He laughed. “Angela, you’re a pistol! You’re right, of course, and beside the fact that I don’t plan to be another notch on your gun, our highest executives and board members have a group dynamic that would crash the moment you moved your pretty ass into the tower. You could go elsewhere and sure as hell, you’d be a great catch, but I don’t think you will. Too much is going well for you here, and I sure don’t plan to live forever.”
You probably will live forever, you bastard, she thought.
“I know you’ve tried end runs around me several times with members of my board of directors,” Jason said, smiling. “I warned them. They enjoyed your efforts and appreciated your enthusiasm. Hell, I don’t blame you. If I were a beautiful woman with your talent and ambition, who knows what I’d try.”
“You’re a real son-of-a-bitch, Jason.”
“I sure as hell am, but I’m a good one for Ashley Pharmaceuticals and for my friends.”
Once Angela accepted the reality of her situation at Ashley, she began exploring alternatives. She had nearly twenty-five years in the pharmaceutical industry and, although respected and even feared by reputation, she maintained worldwide contacts looking for the next new drug, drug class, or promising startup company.
People for Alternative Treatment going public caught her attention. When they’d succeeded in recruiting Dr. Andre Keller, she was sold. Although Greg and Amanda Wincott still maintained controlling shares, Angela had been accumulating PAT stock for her own account, and for a group of wealthy investors she advised on drug stocks. Cumulatively, they controlled 15 percent of the company.
As a major stockholder, she met with Greg and Amanda Wincott occasionally. Although they functioned under the supervision of the board of directors, Greg was the CEO and would remain in this position for at least the next seven years or until the board asked for his resignation. Since he lacked the scientific background to manage his own company, Greg had selected for the Board of Directors scientists whose honesty and integrity he trusted. One of these that he was considering, to Andre Keller’s dismay, was Dr. Archie Blake from UC Davis.
Archie Blake sat at his desk reviewing reams of data when his secretary buzzed him. “I have a Mr. Greg Wincott on the phone.”
“I don’t recognize the name. Did he say what it was about?”
“Mr. Wincott is the founder of People for Alternative Treatment. Have you heard of them?”
“Yes, of course. Put him through.”
“Archie Blake here, Mr. Wincott.”
“Dr. Blake, it’s a pleasure to speak with you.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir. Everyone in the research community knows PAT, and knows about your family and the circumstances leading to the Ian Wincott Foundation and the formation of PAT. I’m a big fan.”
“I appreciate that, Dr. Blake. Do you have a moment?”
“Please call me Archie, and for you, I have more than a moment.”
“Thanks, Archie, and please call me Gregg. I’d love to offer you a position at PAT, but those who know you well tell me that you’re too entrench
ed at Davis with your research to consider such an offer, but I do have a proposal.”
“I wish someone like you had come to me years ago before I committed to the university. My life might be simpler if I worked in the private sector. What do you have in mind?”
“Amanda and I would love for you to accept a position on our board of directors. For us, this group serves two purposes; first, as a traditional board for a publicly traded company, and second, as PAT’s scientific advisory group.”
“That’s a wonderful offer, but my time’s so constrained that I’m not sure I’d be sufficiently available for you.”
“This is what I have in mind; biotechnology is a highly competitive business and as a layman, I need people with expertise to direct our studies, and integrity to keep us honest. I’m suggesting one meeting every two months, a conference call every so often, and a board meeting twice annually.”
“Of course the university won’t allow me to accept any payment for this work.”
“You’ll be pleased to know that I’m not offering any. You won’t mind if we ply you with great food or fine wine during our meetings, will you?”
“Count me in,” Archie said, “and understand that I’m agreeing in large part due to my respect for you and your wife, and what you’ve done in the face of a tragedy that could have destroyed most families.”
On one of her trips to PAT, Angela met with Andre Keller. She found him a kindred soul. They met surreptitiously several times afterwards and communicated by email.
He’s even more ambitious than I am, she thought.
They sat over coffee after dinner. “Angela, the potential of my work on DNA vectors on aging is virtually limitless. If this procedure works, as I’m sure it will, I can go anywhere I want. The bureaucratic FDA barriers and PAT’s lack of aggressiveness have left me hamstrung. I’m sick of it! With the right people and the right money behind this research, we could be to market in two to three years rather than the five to six that they’re discussing at PAT.”
“That’s overly optimistic,” said Angela. “Approval will take much longer.”
“Not when the curative properties go public. The forces for approval will be epic.”
“Look, Andre, we’re in this together. You’ve shared proprietary information, and I’m off limits in my responsibilities to Ashley Pharmaceuticals. Keep working. Keep me posted on your progress while I search for a way to make this work for both of us.”
The audience of ninety women and three men filled the auditorium at KTVU television in Oakland. Penny Parks, a bay area comedienne and regular on East Bay Today, had the audience warmed up for the TV morning news magazine hosted by Sherrie Sacks, a local personality and reporter for the Oakland Tribune. Sherrie was a dynamo; attractive, smart, well informed, and doggedly persistent with the scent of a story. Only the foolish or the naive would come on EBT if Sherrie was not securely on their side.
“Today, we’re fortunate to have with us, one of the brightest lights of the medical community at Brier Hospital, Dr. Harmony Lane. Please welcome Dr. Lane.”
The audience responded at once to the applause prompt, and Harmony entered the EBT set. She exchanged hugs and kisses with Sherrie, and then took a seat to her right.
“I asked Dr. Lane to join us today because she shares with us, you few brave guys in the audience will excuse me, our selfish interest in women’s health. Dr. Lane has been practicing in Berkeley for about a year and a half, is that correct?”
“Yes, Sherrie. I’m so pleased to be with you today.”
“Tell us a little about yourself, would you Harmony?”
“I grew up in the bay area, and then went to USC in LA. From there, I went on to medical school at the University of Illinois. Afterward, I guess I couldn’t get California out of my blood, so I completed my training in Family Medicine in nearby Santa Rosa.”
“Tell us why, in these days of specialization, you chose family practice, and why the special interest in women’s health?”
“In medical school, once I hit the wards and dealt for the first time with real patients, I noticed that care was often fragmented. By that, I mean that specialists caring for their individual systems, like the heart or the kidneys, often neglected other important aspects of that person’s health. Patients needed somebody to speak for them and their needs as individuals, or what we call a holistic approach. This includes overall evaluation of not just the physical, but all the systems including the psychological, the social, and the spiritual as each person dealt with our ever more complicated environment and health care system. It aggravated me that many things essential to a healthy life were someone else’s responsibility, not mine. These were important issues like where and with whom they’d be living; what kind of support was available; whether the family dynamics were healthy or destructive, and a hundred other things that might make the difference between success and failure, health or disease, well adjusted or psychologically impaired.”
“Why women’s health?” Sherrie asked, “Is there or was there something wrong with the care that we, as women, are receiving?”
“Look, Sherrie, I’m not here to berate men in general or male physicians in particular. We could have an entire seminar on women’s role in our culture as it evolved over time and under the influence of fundamentalist, male-dominated, religious doctrine. We all know there were and still are problems with how men and women relate, and how society, as a whole, values women.”
Sherrie smiled at the audience. “Now you have me salivating. Please continue and give us some examples.”
“Pick up your daily newspaper or turn on the TV. In 2012 you’ll still find places in this world where women’s role is limited to procreation, and where men can murder or mutilate women in adherence to brutal misogynistic belief.
“That’s the obvious, but let’s look at a more subtle example. Take the term, hysteria and how people, particularly men, commonly use it in referring to women. You’ll all recognize the word and how often it’s applied to women in particular; she’s just hysterical translates to, ‘her complaints are baseless or are psychological in origin’. The term comes from the Greek, hystera referring to the uterus, from illness coming from the uterus and therefore peculiar to women. It’s a dismissive term that has found its way into our culture, and I’m afraid into our belief systems. Sadly, such terms influence how we feel about each other.”
“Interesting, but how does this relate to women’s health issues?”
“Just like they teach medical students that children are not small adults, women are not beardless variants of men. This may surprise you guys,” she said smiling. “The simplest part is the physiological and anatomical differences and the illnesses they generate. The complicated part reflects an undeniable truth, that many symptoms that bring people to the physician’s office are emotional in origin. Nobody, especially doctors, likes to admit that, but repeated studies have confirmed the accuracy of these observations. Combine all these factors with vaguely defined illnesses such a chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia, to name two, and you set the stage for conflict between male physicians and women patients.”
Harmony paused for a sip of water then continued. “This is all too nonspecific, so let me spell it out. I work with women who have a whole range of difficult illnesses and I choose to give them two things: the benefit of the doubt, and reassurance that I understand them in a way that no man can. Don’t confuse any of this for radical feminism. I won’t be burning my bra or leading my sisters on any march. I recognize a demonstrable truth that I, as a woman, share with my female patients.” Harmony smiled at the camera. “And, trust me, personally, I adore men.”
Harmony went on to discuss chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, and lupus, then answered questions from the audience.
Afterward, Sherrie took Harmony aside. “That was great Harmony. It’s easy to see why women want you as their physician. I’d love to have you back again soon.”
“I’d love th
at, too”
Sherrie thought for a moment then faced Harmony. “If it’s okay with you, Dr. Lane, I’d like to make an appointment to see you as a patient.”
“Why sure. Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, it’s just as you said, I think I’ll be more comfortable with a woman.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harmony Lane sat at her desk the next morning reading the mail. Her drive to work through the dreary, cold fog matched her mood.
Her private line rang. “It’s your answering service, Dr. Lane. I have a Dr. Keller on the line. Can I connect him?”
“Of course. Dr. Keller, what a surprise. It’s great to hear from you.”
“It’s Andre, and I’m the one who has the pleasure, Harmony. I’ve been thinking about your offer to participate in Phase II trials with your lupus patients, and we’re interested.”
“I’m really pleased. Tell me more about the study.”
Andre described the protocol and its clinical requirements. “I’ll provide you with the DNA vector, a deactivated virus, which we’ve designated PAT0035. We’ve had incredible success with this modified adenovirus and so far, it’s shown no adverse effects.”
Andre went on for several minutes without a pause. He described their findings on lupus mice and lupus patients. He went on enthusiastically to describe the effects of PAT0035. “Besides eliminating clinical lupus findings, we’re seeing the reversal of age-related cellular degeneration and remarkable restorative properties. The virus stimulates cellular growth factors, dramatically controls infection, and promotes healing. I can’t wait to begin clinical studies on these effects.”
Harmony was excited. “This whole thing intrigues me. When can we get started?”
“I’m sending you the entire research package that includes the study protocol, detailed information on maintenance and administration of PAT0035, consent forms, and some of our most recent research data. Keep in mind that this information is proprietary, Harmony. You’ll need to sign our confidentiality agreement and have it notarized. Don’t let this data out of your hands.”
The Plague Within (Brier Hospital Series) Page 13
