“They wouldn’t.”
“Really? It wouldn’t be the first time a company has backed away from a useful drug. Why do you think we had that fifty-million-dose shortage of flu vaccine back in oh-four? Because not one American company would produce it, and still won't produce an injectable. It’s costly, time consuming, and they got fed up with being sued every time someone had a reaction. So they said to hell with it and concentrated on other areas.” He rubbed his eyes. “Thankfully we have that new Swiss company picking up the slack.”
“So what should I do?”
“You investigate Tanesha Green’s syndrome, but in the meantime you disabuse her of the idea that it could be in any way, shape, or form connected to seven-twenty-three. We must keep its reputation pristine.”
Sheila had never seen Bill so fiercely demanding. She felt her stomach knot.
“I’ll do everything I can.”
He gave her a half-hearted smile. “I know you will.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet with Abra shortly. Keep me informed on this, Sheila.”
Half dazed, she rose and headed for the door. As she walked out she thought about how Bill had asked her, Who is she? when she’d told him about the new patient. But she hadn’t mentioned the sex. How had Bill known?
You’re being paranoid, Sheila. Probably just a lucky guess. The first had been female so he’d assumed the second was too.
That had to be it.
Sheila made a beeline for her office. Tethys was depending on her to keep it from being sued. Not a responsibility that should be hers, but she’d do her best.
And the best way would be to find the cause of Tanesha’s syndrome and prove beyond doubt that it had no link to VG723.
She just hoped she was up to it. She never wanted to see Bill that angry again. But despite Bill’s opinion, two such cases did warrant investigation.
BILL
“Drinking so early in the day?” Abra said with her pursed-lipped smile as she rolled into her family room wearing her usual dark-colored dress slacks and a neutral blouse. Her critters heard the hum of her chair and scurried and slithered to the fronts of their tanks. She ran her hand along the terraria until she reached Bill.
He rarely drank before five, but he’d scheduled a short afternoon, so he’d treated himself. He needed a drink right now. Not for the usual reason, either. The damn menagerie of snakes and spiders didn’t faze him today. Couldn’t. Not after what Sheila Takamura had set on his plate.
He turned to his sister. “It’s been a bad day.”
She took a breath and held it as she closed her eyes. When she released it she looked at him.
“Sheila told me she found a bug in her office. Was that your doing?”
He didn’t respond.
“Honestly, Billy, I know you’re infatuated with Sheila, but don’t you think it’s a little obsessive to bug her phone? If you want her, then leave Elise and pursue her. But don’t play these games. It’s unbecoming.”
Bill sighed with relief. He wanted to laugh but didn’t. Abra thinking the bug was about his stalking Sheila was perfect. One little lecture and he was off the hook.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I installed it a long time ago. I haven’t listened in ages.”
“And the break-in at her house? Her camera, laptop, and purse stolen. Was that your doing?”
Bill looked at the floor. Damn.
“I had to get the pictures of Kelly.”
“Did you have to take her laptop as well, and her purse? She had to call all over the place and get everything cancelled.”
“If I just took her camera it would have been obvious.”
“Billy, it’s a felony to break into a house. Why take that risk?”
“I didn’t. I sent Shen in.”
“What on Earth were you thinking? Why put Shen at risk like that? He’s a good man. That’s very unfair. Very, very unfair.”
Abra looked through him and Bill wanted to hide under a couch. Her disapproval felt like a whiplashing.
“I was just protecting Proteus. I—”
She put her hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Do what you will to steer her away, but no more cloak and dagger. See that this doesn’t happen again. No more bugs.”
He nodded. She made him feel like a little boy.
“Or teasing her if she wants to go on dates. I heard about your blue collar comment.”
Bill’s face reddened. She had him there. Was there anything Sheila didn’t tell Abra?
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I respect Sheila as a co-worker. That’s as far as it will go. I’ll let her live her life.”
Abra smiled and nodded. “Good boy.”
Was it over? Was she done dumping on him? He’d tell what he had been holding back. That would get the attention off him.
“Abra, my snooping on Sheila is the least of our concerns.”
She clenched her chair. “What do you mean?”
“The other shoe has dropped.”
“Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you got here?”
“You were too busy being my older sister, running me through the ringer.”
“What happened?”
“Tanesha Green, the woman who got the other sample, came in. And guess who saw her.”
Abra closed her eyes and shook her head. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” She sighed. “The poor woman … Tanesha … what she must be going through. We’ll have to find a way to compensate her.”
“We saved her life, didn’t we?”
“Yes, but—well, Tanesha Green ending up in Sheila’s office really muddies the waters. It makes it a lot harder to cover up.” Abra surprised him by striking her armrest with a tiny gnarled fist. “How does that happen? Two people out there who could bring Proteus down in flames and both show up in the same doctor’s office. How does that happen?”
She struck her armrest again.
Bill couldn’t help smiling—just a little. “Five years ago you’d have broken a few metacarpals doing that.”
“What?” Then she looked at her hand. “Oh. Yes, my bones are stronger these days, stronger than at any time in my life.” She shook herself. “But that’s not important. How?”
Bill sipped his drink. “Not so unlikely when you think about it. Sheila is one of our staff oncologists. The two women in question were patients here. Sheila is not only a skilled doc, but she cares. Patients love her. Put all that together and it’s not such a stretch that both women turned to Doctor Takamura when their skin and hair began doing strange things.”
“I suppose not.” Abra shook her head and shifted her twisted, withered body in her wheelchair. “But this has complicated an already precarious situation.”
“Au contraire,” Bill said. “Instead of juggling two curious physicians, we can devote our efforts and attention to just one—one who happens to be right under our roof. It could be worse.”
Abra was nodding. “I see what you mean. Yes, I suppose it could be very much worse. Sheila is an ally.”
“I hope so.”
“What?” Abra tapped her hearing aid.
“Nothing. The fact that this is an isolated incident—one that will never occur again, I pray—means that she will find no pattern, and thus have no trail to follow. I ran her through the database and showed her that her two cases are anomalies.”
“But what if she should stumble upon the truth?”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know that, Bill. What if she does? I think we should simply tell her everything now. Wouldn’t that be easier? If she finds out on her own—”
“I’ll see to it that she never gets that far. If she starts getting close, I’ll find ways to keep her so busy she won’t have time for extracurricular investigations.”
“I don’t want to see her overworked. I’d rather bring her in.”
“Abra, it’s too soon. If it comes down to losing Proteus and Tethys or losing She
ila, you know we’ll have to let Sheila go.”
Tears started to form in Abra’s eyes. Bill had been placating her with the idea of eventually bringing Sheila in, but too much was at stake. She’d never embrace it the way they did.
“It will never come to that, so don’t worry. I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll steer Sheila away from this and things can return to normal. Okay?”
She nodded. “I am trusting you to make sure she doesn’t get too close to the truth. If she does, I’m telling her everything. I’m not losing her.”
Her look drove the point home. Stop Sheila from learning too much, or let her in and risk having the Proteus Cure fall apart around them. And it would fall apart. Miss Straight-and-Narrow did not have the vision to accept Proteus.
“Very well, Abra,” Bill said, grimacing. He hated fighting with her. “I’ll take care of it. She won’t find out.”
Shen had placed a new bug in Sheila’s office. Bill had kept a close eye on Sheila since the day she started and wasn’t about to stop now. She hadn’t discovered how VG723 really worked, or its side effects. With continued surveillance he could keep her from discovering anything in the future.
ABRA
Abra sighed as she watched her little brother leave.
Billy, Billy, Billy, what are we going to do?
He swore he had the situation under control, but did he? Drinking a lot lately, and his hands shook. What was going on that he wasn’t telling? The poor boy always put so much pressure on himself.
She knew he kept things from her, to let her concentrate on the clinic, but she so hoped he knew what he was doing.
Nothing to do except pray and hope Billy could keep it all quiet. They had all worked so hard, Billy, Mama, Daddy—God rest his soul—and her to make the Proteus therapy a reality so that no one would have to endure what she did.
Abra recalled how half her childhood seemed to have been spent in hospital rooms. Drab, gray walls … smells of medicine … cold sheets. The memories felt as crippling as her disease. She’d been nine years old when she finally learned to pronounce her disease: Osteogenesis imperfecta … a genetic defect that interfered with collagen production, leaving her bones like glass.
That had been the year of her worst Christmas ever. She remembered falling down the stairs Christmas morning and awakening in the hospital. But never before had she felt so much pain.
The rods were to blame. She’d heard about them for years. Someday, Mama had said, they might put pipes in her bones to make them stronger. She’d made it seem easy, like getting a pair of glasses. A good thing, she’d said, so Abra wouldn’t snap all the time.
But Mama had fibbed, never said it would be agony. No one even asked Abra about it. Just rammed them in without telling her.
And when the painkillers wore off, she’d felt as if her body were on fire. Screaming and screaming and the nurses giving her more morphine.
No one should have to suffer like that. And Abra knew that no one would have to if Proteus could be kept alive. But Bill and she both knew that this situation with Kelly Slade and Tanesha was a potential catastrophe. She prayed trouble could be averted. If not, their dream might well be over before they could achieve all the good they’d hoped for. A cure for so many illnesses. Such a tragedy if all the needy people never got their chance.
Like her niece April …
BILL
Bill, Elise, and Robbie took off their coats and settled into the folding chairs ringing the thick blue mat. Bill sniffed the air: cider and sugar cookies. Crayon and glitter pictures covered the walls. Abra sat a few rows up in her wheelchair. Today was April’s gymnastics recital. Bradfield Gymnastics and Dance hosted a Christmastime event so the kids could show how hard they’d worked. Everyone laughed when the kindergartners pranced out onto the mat wearing brown velvet bodysuits, antlers, and red rubber noses. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” played in the background.
They did jumping jacks in a circle, then dropped to the ground and did somersaults, a tangled mess of little arms and legs. Bill and the other parents applauded. The kids preened.
“April Gilchrist doing a cartwheel,” the teacher announced.
Dark-haired, blue-eyed April stepped forward, found her family, and smiled. She gave Bill a thumbs-up and his heart swelled. Her chest rose and fell quickly and evenly. What a relief. She ran and made almost a full cartwheel. Damn good for a five-year old.
“Very good, April. Now let’s have Laura Flanagan.”
April waved into the video camera Elise was aiming her way.
He watched April return to her friends, giddy. A picture of health.
Thanks to me.
His joy in seeing her reminded him of the anguish he’d felt six years ago when the results of Elise’s intrauterine tests came back. Abra, her expression grim, had taken him aside and told him.
“Bill, the baby has the F508 mutation. Cystic Fibrosis.”
He’d collapsed into a chair and cried. Really cried, no holds barred. Elise would never have an abortion. She’d had two miscarriages since Robbie already, and pinned all her hopes on this pregnancy. This one was “her little miracle,” as she said so often.
Abra had pulled his chin up to face her. “Billy, you listen to me. This doesn’t have to happen.”
“Abra, I can’t—she won’t give up the baby.”
“She doesn’t have to, Billy. We’ve got Proteus. We can fix her.”
“But …”
“Just because we don’t use it on children anymore doesn’t mean we can’t make an exception. As soon as she’s born, we’ll treat her. And no one will ever know.”
“But if we use it, she won’t—.”
“Don’t say it, Billy. Don’t ever say it.” She put her finger to his lips. “It doesn’t matter. The side effects will far outweigh the kind of life she’ll have if we stand idly by.”
And so they told Elise the results were perfectly normal and she was thrilled. Four months later, Bill whisked April away from the nursery and he and Abra treated her with VG723. Now they had a perfect and healthy little girl. Adorable.
God he was glad. Side effects be damned. Abra was right. They didn’t matter. His angel was healthy. Nothing more important than that.
He threw his arm around Elise and squeezed, unable to contain his joy. “Isn’t she great?”
Elise smiled. “She’s our little miracle.”
Yes, our little miracle.
Elise had no idea how true that was.
SHEILA
Sheila checked the ultrasound to confirm the placement of Sean’s PICC line: perfect location. The VG723 would infuse directly into his central circulation.
“Okay, Sean. You’re ready for your first dose.”
The too-pale boy on the pale sheets looked up at her. “Tell me again how this VG-stuff works.”
She’d already explained it twice. Sean was no dummy, but he couldn’t seem to grasp how a bunch of stem cells would cure him. Sheila couldn’t blame him. The radical concept was shrouded in proprietary secrecy.
“Okay. You know what a stem cell is, right?”
He nodded. “Special cells that can turn into any other kind of cell in the body.”
Simplistic and overgeneralized, but close enough.
“Remember the bone-marrow biopsy we did last week?”
“I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had, but yeah, I remember it.”
“Well, VecGen took the blood stem cells we found there, cultured them, then modified them into omnipotential stems.”
That was the big mystery: How VecGen turned marrow stems into omnipotential stems—the equivalent of embryonic stem cells.
“Then the virus, right?”
“Right. They embed a virus into the stem’s cellular membrane.”
Sean shook his head. “That’s the part that creeps me out. Someone shooting me up with a virus …”
“It sounds crazy, I know, but viral vectors have been used for gene and tumor therapy since the ninetie
s. So that in itself isn’t new. What VecGen has done is embed a modified adenovirus—modified to render it innocuous—into the surface of these stem cells to act as a guidance system.”
“Like a Tomahawk missile.”
“More like a heat-seeking missile. Adenoviruses are attracted to multiplying cells, and right now the most rapidly multiplying cells in your body belong to the lymphoma.”
“So when the virus latches onto a lymphoma cell, it drags the stem cell with it.”
“Right. Thousands and thousands of them. And once they reach those hot spots, the stem cells do what they do best: Multiply and change into whatever tissue they happen to be in contact with. If the tumor’s in a lymph node, they infiltrate the mass and become lymph cells—normal, non-cancerous lymph cells. When they arrive at one of those metastases in your liver, they’ll infiltrate the met and start becoming normal liver cells.”
“Yeah, but the tumors are still there.”
“Not for long. Stem cells multiply very quickly, even faster than malignant cells. The special stems strangle the tumor by commandeering its blood supply and crowding out its cells. And they go on doing this until every cancer cell in your body has been killed.”
“And then where do they go?”
“Well, once they undergo mitosis—that’s what we call it when a cell splits—”
Sean made a face. “I’m no bio major, but I know that.”
“Good. With mitosis they lose their viral guidance system and so become regular old stem cells.”
Sean mulled this for a few seconds, then frowned. “So why can’t VecGen do that for everyone?”
“I’m not sure. They keep certain aspects of the process under wraps—don’t want anyone stealing their secrets.” And as the bug in her office proved, someone was indeed after their secrets. “But I imagine it has to do with whether or not they can embed the vector virus. If your stem cells reject the virus, they won’t have a guidance system, and you’re out of luck.”
Sean smiled. “I’m a laid-back kinda guy. Gotta figure my stem cells are too. I’m guaranteed a cure, right?”
Sheila had to be honest.
The Proteus Cure Page 8
