“Well, Gerald Kaplan might still be around. Let’s see.”
She pulled out her Blackberry and turned it on. She made a wireless connection to the Internet and then to the state’s online directory of licensed physicians. She entered “Kaplan” and the little screen filled with hits. But only one Gerald.
“Hey. He practices in Salem—in a multi-specialty group. If he’s on today, maybe we can catch him.”
“Salem, New Hampshire or Mass?”
“Mass.”
She dialed the number and found herself talking to a receptionist at Rolling Hills Medical Associates.
Yes, Dr. Kaplan was in today but leaving soon. Last appointment at 5:30.
“This is Doctor Sheila Takamura. I can be there in half an hour. I’d like to consult with him about a mutual patient.”
The receptionist said she would pass that on.
Sheila slid out of her seat and reached for her coat.
“Come on.”
•
They were fifteen minutes late.
Sheila hurried up the front walk toward the two-story glass-and-steel building that housed Rolling Hills Medical Group.
“I hope he’s still here.”
Rush hour traffic heading south had been a bit slow but once they got into Salem the streets were clogged. The witch town always had tourists driving too slowly, peering at the witches as they walked down the street in black robes or at the House of the Seven Gables. They’d taken Paul’s navy blue Explorer and he’d muttered frustration at the other drivers and had all but fogged the windows as they’d crawled along.
Paul paced her. “He’ll wait, won’t he? I mean, as a professional courtesy?”
Sheila shrugged. “He doesn’t know me and if he has somewhere else to go, he’ll go. This was arranged on the fly without consulting him.”
A thin, pale, sharp-featured man stepped through the doors and approached them. He had graying hair and horn-rimmed glasses, and was tucked into a blue stadium coat that looked too big for him. He made no eye contact as he passed.
Sheila hoped he wasn’t Kaplan. She was tempted to ask him but his remote demeanor made her hesitate, and then he was past.
Paul held the front door for her—a gentlemanly gesture she always appreciated. Once inside she bustled across the marble floor to the central desk where three women manned the phones. The middle one looked up.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Doctor Takamura. I called earlier about meeting with Doctor Kaplan. Is he—?”
“Oh, you just missed him. Didn’t you see him on your way in?”
“We’ve never met. The man in the blue coat?”
“That’s him.” Her tone told Sheila that Dr. Kaplan was not one of her favorites. “He waited a few minutes, then told me to have you call him tomorrow.”
Paul was already heading back toward the entrance.
Sheila followed at a half trot as he hurried toward the parking lot. Kaplan pulled his dark gray SUV out of a reserved space and headed for the street.
“Maybe we can catch him.”
“We can talk to him tomorrow,” Sheila said.
“We’re going after him. I want to hear what he has to say now.”
HAL
Hal Silberman whistled while he walked to his car. He’d had some time to read over Tanesha Green’s file and was intrigued. Her before-and-after pictures had blown him away. He hadn’t seen any changes that dramatic since, well, since that KB26 case a bunch of years back. Nothing as drastic as a race change but that guy went from being a redhead with green eyes to a person with black hair and brown eyes. He looked Greek when he came into Hal’s office. What was it? Six, seven years ago? Hard to say. Before he could do the proper workups on that guy, he went out and contracted HIV.
After that, the patient said he didn’t care anymore how he looked. He committed suicide about a year later. Hal had wanted to examine him further, dig deeper into the case. But without patient cooperation there was nothing he could do.
Now, with Tanesha Green, here was a similar situation; plus Sheila said there had been another one. Two woman changing races, complete hair and pigment changes. He hadn’t made the connection to the old KB26 patient until after Sheila left, when he looked at the pictures. Sheila had tried to tell him but he had no idea it was so extreme. He had to call the doctor she saw last at her clinic and ask about her history the last couple of years. Tanesha hadn't done her follow ups at Tethys, which was too bad. Would have made things a lot easier.
“Hal!” He looked up as he neared his car.
“Hi, Bill. How are you?”
“Great, great. What’s new?”
The head man was being unusually friendly.
“Not much. Finally over the divorce and now I’m dating again. Not such a bad life. Brenda’s coming tonight. Twenty-three-year-old Brenda from Starlight Donuts.”
Hal’s heart pounded when he thought of her. So far the only date they had was a concert she wanted to attend. He hoped like hell she wasn’t using him. She had seen his Jag in the drive-thru and her eyes lit up. Well, tonight would be the test. She said she would probably come over and that was good enough for him. Keeping his fingers crossed she’d show.
“She’s coming to my place tonight. I’m making a special dinner for her. My first attempt at gourmet cooking. chicken Marsala.”
Hal smiled, counting the minutes till eight o’clock.
“Dating huh? Lucky stiff. Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to touch base on the Green case. I’m following her with Sheila.”
Hal welcomed the opportunity to discuss this with Bill.
“Here let me set my things in the car. I want to show you something.”
They walked to Hal’s car together. He put everything but the file on the seat. He opened it and pointed.
“Look at this. Green is turning white. These pictures are from last week.”
“Wow.”
“Here’s the thing, Bill. Sheila said she had another patient, a white turning black.”
“The Slade woman. But she died.”
“I know, but remember that redheaded kid, seven years ago or so?”
“No.”
“Sure you do. I asked you about it. A KB-twenty-six patient, got Leukemia in his early twenties. Got KB and was cured. He came in a couple of years later, completely changed. Even his eye color was different.”
“Oh yes, now I remember. He was a drug addict though, as I recall. You thought maybe the drugs caused his change.”
“No, I never I assumed that. I wasn’t sure—”
“Yes, you did. He contracted HIV from IV drug use. You concluded it was most likely some experimental street drug causing the changes. But after he got AIDS he refused more tests.”
“His condition never escalated to full-blown AIDS. He committed suicide long before that. But you’re right, he did refuse more tests and later died. I never was able to conclude anything either way. At the time I questioned if the KB-twenty-six could have been responsible.”
“But he died and you were never sure.”
Boy did this sound like someone trying to cover his ass. “No, I was never sure.”
Bill looked satisfied. Time to shatter that.
“Never sure on that one but Green here is another case. Pervasive pigment and hair changes down to the cellular level. I’ve sent some reports and slides to all the big centers to see if any of those folks have seen anything like this. And it’s stem cell therapy again. Maybe Sheila’s right. Could be a connection. I think it’s worth pursing.”
Bill sighed, leaned back on Hal’s car. He started sweating. Opened his overcoat and loosened his tie.
“You okay?”
Bill didn’t speak. Closed his eyes and leaned for a good couple of minutes. Finally, “You might be onto something Hal. It’s great you’re on top of it. When Sheila mentioned it, I was leery. She has a tendency to jump into things with both feet, but you … If you think there’s a connectio
n, there may be. Any way I can help?”
That was a quick turnaround. Hal was glad he saw the light.
“No, I think I’m good. It’s out of my hands until the folks get back to me. Sheila ran some more tests and Green’s coming back for another biopsy next week. I’m kind of excited actually.”
“Excited!” Bill’s face reddened. “Excited? Are you crazy? Excited that you might have found a flaw in the perfect cancer therapy? Do you have any idea how quickly this whole program could be shut down? What kind of scrutiny—?”
“No, of course not.” Hal looked around. No one else around to hear Bill yelling, thank God. “I was just thinking that if there’s a way to change hair and eye and skin color on command with no other side effects, well, it might be something people would be interested in. An unintended but beneficial side effect. Like plastic surgery without the risk of anesthesia and infection. Big market out there for people who want to change themselves.”
Bill seemed to relax. “Right. Hadn’t thought of that. Sorry, just a little sensitive when it comes to VG-seven-twenty-three.”
Hal patted his back. “No problem. Don’t worry. I won’t say a word to anyone till I know something for sure.”
“I appreciate it. So when did you send the slides out?”
“Just now. Dropped in the outbox in the clinic.”
“Good. Hopefully we’ll hear something soon. I’ll let you get to your date.”
“Thanks, Bill. Good seeing you again.”
“You too, Hal.”
Hal watched Bill walk away. He certainly was sensitive about VG723 therapy. Hal never knew why the KB26 trial ended. Had to be some kind of glitch and now Bill was worried VG723 would meet the same fate.
Oh, well. Off to the specialty grocery store to pick up the ingredients. He was going all out on fancy mushrooms for the chicken Marsala. He looked at his watch. Two more hours till Brenda came over. He got excited just thinking about the night ahead of him.
SHEILA
After a few minutes of watchful cruising, Paul pointed ahead. “Got him. Easy to spot a Navigator, just a little bit smaller than an aircraft carrier.”
The trip turned out to be a short one: To Marblehead where Kaplan pulled into the driveway of a small Victorian cottage a few blocks after they passed the ocean. Paul pulled in right behind him.
“I’ll do the talking,” she said.
Kaplan was standing by the open door of his car, watching them with a concerned look.
“Doctor Kaplan?” she called. “I’m Doctor Takamura. I’d like to talk to you.”
His features relaxed somewhat. “I passed you outside the office. From your name I’d expected—”
“Someone Japanese, I know. Happens all the time.” She stopped half a dozen feet away. She knew Paul was right behind her and she didn’t want their presence to seem threatening. “Can we have a few minutes of your time?”
“What’s this about? The receptionist said something about a mutual patient. I really can’t discuss—”
“I’m not looking to discuss specifics. I …”
She hesitated not knowing if this was the man they were looking for. She’d have to ask him flat out. A bluff.
“I really want to discuss your old company, Kaplan Biologicals—specifically KB-twenty-six.”
Something flitted across his features. Sheila couldn’t be sure, but she thought it might be fear.
He cleared his throat. “The company is ancient history. I don’t care to discuss it.”
So … he was the right Dr. Kaplan.
As he slammed his car door and turned away, Sheila said, “I can understand that, sir. But I work at the Tethys Center where we’re using another stem-cell therapy, and I was hoping—”
He turned back to her. Interested.
“Tethys? Can you prove that?”
She fished out her ID badge and showed it to him.
He nodded as his watery blue eyes fixed on her through his thick lenses. “I can give you a few minutes. I’ll answer some of your questions if you’ll answer a few of mine. Deal?”
Odd … but Sheila returned his nod.
“Deal.”
He looked past her at Paul.
“And who is this?”
Paul gave his name, then added, “An interested party.”
Kaplan waved them to follow him.
BILL
Bill took Shen’s call.
“Very sorry, doctor, but this one has nothing to report.”
“Couldn’t get close enough?”
“Covington’s very empty. Follow them to Salem where they go into building. Was almost seen when they come out right away and drive off.”
“What building? Give me the address.”
He’d check it out later.
“Where’d they go then?”
After a heartbeat’s hesitation, “This one is shamed to report that I could not follow. Traffic trap me at red light and by time I am through, they are not in sight. Could not find them.”
Damn it to hell! Where were they? What were they up to?
“Just as well. I—my sister has something else for you to do.”
SHEILA
They ended up at the dining room table—Paul and Sheila on one side, Kaplan on the other—with their coats hung on the backs of their chairs. He didn’t offer coffee or anything else.
The house amazed Sheila. Not a single personal touch in the rooms she could see. Not a photo, not a painting. Nothing. As if no one lived here.
“All right,” Kaplan said, glancing at his watch. “I can give you fifteen minutes. What do you want to know?”
Sheila cleared her throat. Where to begin?
“I’m having difficulty learning much about KB-twenty-six.”
“Why should you care?”
She cocked her head toward Paul. “Mister Rosko’s son was successfully treated with it.”
He swiveled his gaze to Paul. “He’s still well, I trust?”
Paul nodded. “Yes, and no.”
Kaplan turned back to Sheila and she found it odd that he didn’t ask Paul what he meant.
“What exactly was KB-twenty-six? I know it was stem-cell based, but …”
“I’ve got time only for a thumbnail version. I found a way to make blood stem cells antigenically neutral. The advantage is obvious, I should think.”
Sheila nodded and turned to Paul. “If you can sidestep a systemic reaction, the donor won’t need to be a close HLA match.” Back to Kaplan: “But how—?”
Kaplan shook his head. “That’s intellectual property. But it went beyond donor HLA. These stem cells were grown in cultures. I’d done away with the need for a donor.”
Sheila blinked. “And you’re not sharing it with the world?”
Kaplan’s gaze wandered to the tabletop. “I tried, but it was only sporadically successful—not enough to make wider use feasible.”
“But still—”
“When my backers learned that it wasn’t going to be the home run they’d anticipated, they pulled the financial plug.” Bitterness sharpened his tone. “With no product and no backing, Kaplan Biologicals had to go chapter seven.”
Sheila said, “I’m sorry.” And she was. “Who’s got the patient records?”
He shrugged. “Whoever bought the assets. But as usual, to safeguard patient privacy, we were never given names—just numbers. Just as experimental therapies are numbered.”
“The experimental records then?”
“Whoever bought the computers. The backers locked me out—bastards. Impounded everything—office equipment, lab fixtures. Everything. I never got a chance to wipe my hard drives—but I’d used 128-bit encryption on the files as I went along.”
“Why would you want to wipe the drives? You said KB-twenty-six wasn’t financially feasible.”
He tapped his forehead. “What’s mine stays mine.”
“But it would seem to have so much potential. Why didn’t you pursue it with Tethys?”
&nbs
p; He frowned. “Tethys? Why would I go there?”
“Well, Doctor Gilchrist offered you a position. I’d think you’d—”
“He did no such thing. I tried to get in touch with him on another matter and he never even returned my calls.”
Sheila felt a ripple of shock. Bill had been very clear about that.
I offered him a post with Tethys.
Something was very wrong here, but she couldn’t let it distract her. One last question:
“Who were your backers?”
“A pack of sharks that called themselves Innovation Ventures. Cared only for the almighty buck.” Kaplan leaned forward. “Now, as agreed, time for a bit of turnaround: Tell me about this VG-seven-twenty-three.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Through pure luck. You mentioned it’s stem-cell based. What else can you tell me?”
“Not a lot, I’m afraid. They keep the details close to the vest.”
“They? They who?”
“A company called VecGen.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s small—probably a lot like yours was.”
“Yes … was.” He sighed. “KB-twenty-six was delivered into the marrow space to treat leukemia. But VG-seven-twenty-three is used for other cancers, correct?”
“Who told you that?”
“A former Tethys patient. But how are the stem cells delivered to the tumor?”
Sheila hesitated, not wanting to say too much. But then she remembered that VecGen’s technique had been published elsewhere.
“They attach a viral vector.”
His eyes took on a faraway look as he rubbed his chin. “I see, I see. Clever.” He refocused on Sheila. “Do they treat children as well as adults?”
Sheila shook her head. “No children. Which is a shame. I don’t understand why—”
“No,” Kaplan said. “You wouldn’t.”
Sheila glanced at him. “And you would?”
He shook his head. His melancholy mood had vanished. Instead he looked … furious.
“What about the selection process? What are their criteria?”
“God only knows. They photograph all the applicants but I’m sure their looks have no bearing on their acceptance. I think it’s to monitor the demographics.”
The Proteus Cure Page 16
