Then she froze, staring at the rash.
What if, she thought as her heart started drumming with excitement, the trick we’re missing isn’t in the poison at all?
What if it was in the delivery?
PARKER WOKE well before the late winter dawn, which was totally, utterly normal for him. What wasn’t normal was the faint sting of disappointment he felt when he realized Mandy wasn’t there, and the subsequent flush of discomfort when he remembered how far things had gone the night before.
It wasn’t the physical aspect that had him staying in the shower longer than usual, trying to figure out his next move. Sex was sex, after all, and he’d had enough positive feedback over the years to know he was pretty good at it. More importantly, it had never been a question that he and Mandy were good together. Heck, they were beyond good, and that was the problem, because he’d gotten in way deeper than he’d meant to the night before, way deeper than he ever had before, even with his ex-wife, who he’d been crazy about when they married.
But, as she’d pointed out too many times to count, being crazy about someone wasn’t the same as loving them. Crazy was something you could step away from, love wasn’t. Love was all about emotion, all about setting aside logic and letting go.
It was about forever.
Mandy might not have forever, though. Unless they pulled off a miracle, she had the next two days and that was it. If having him close to her, both physically and emotionally, for that time would help, then that’s what he was going to do.
Ignoring the faint warning chime in the back of his brain, he headed downstairs expecting to find her in the kitchen, showered and powering up with a cup of coffee.
He found her in the living room with papers strewn around her. She was muttering to herself as he came into the room, and when he cleared his throat, she looked up quickly, her eyes wild. “I think he’s using nanotechnology to send the toxin particles into the organs, getting them out of the bloodstream as quickly as possible. Question is—where is he sending them and how can we block it?”
Chapter Nine
Driven by the excitement of a testable hypothesis, Mandy and Parker headed straight to Boston General and started culling the blood samples for synthetic oil particles. Once they had them, mass spectrometry gave them a chemical breakdown of the oil. By nine o’clock that morning, they had their delivery system. They even had a brand name: Dynastin 402.
Unfortunately that wasn’t enough to tell them how to clear the toxin from Mandy’s blood, leaving them so close, yet so far from the answer.
Refusing to give up, she kept cranking while Parker brought Stankowski up to speed.
“Let me get this straight.” The detective frowned at his notes. “The rash and the lack of toxins in the blood samples made you look at oil-based drug delivery systems called nanoparticles. These things can cause rashes at the site of injection. I get that. What I don’t get is why your blood tests didn’t find them in the first place. The whole ‘nano’ thing makes me think of Verne’s Incredible Journey, when they shrank that spaceship thing and injected it into a person.”
“It’s sort of like that,” Parker said, “only not really. Nanoparticles aren’t robots, but you’re right that they’re really small—the technical term is nanoscale. They’re basically very small spheres made of several layers. The inner layer, the core, is where the drug—or in this case, the poison—is loaded. It’s surrounded by an outer shell of oil.”
Stankowski nodded. “This Dynastin 402 you found in Mandy’s blood sample from yesterday.”
“Exactly. One end of the Dynastin molecule likes to interact with aqueous solutions—like blood plasma—and one end is repelled by those same solutions, so Dynastin molecules automatically self-assemble into tiny little spheres, with one end pointing toward the plasma and the other end protected inside the sphere. Mix it with your drug of choice and then expose it to an aqueous environment, and poof! Self-assembling, drug-loaded nanoparticles.”
Stankowski didn’t seem convinced. “If there are all these little balls floating around in the blood, why didn’t they show up when we tested the other samples?”
“Because making the nanoparticles is only half the battle. You’ve also got to target them so they release the drug at the proper spot. That’s why scientists are so hot on the technology—in theory, nanoparticles should be able to deliver a drug directly to the action site—a tumor, for example—meaning that treatment dosages can be lower and more specific. Less toxicity for chemotherapy, that sort of thing. They do it by attaching recognition molecules to the end of the Dynastin, so they end up on the outside of the particle. Then the particles float around in the bloodstream until they bump up against the cell type they’re designed to recognize, and they dump their drug load.”
“You said in theory,” Stankowski put in. “These things aren’t real yet?”
“They’re real enough,” Parker said. “There’s still some optimization necessary before they’re the drug agent of choice, but they’re definitely out there.”
Mandy half-listened to the conversation while she waited for the printout results of her latest Mass Spec run, which she was hoping would tell them which targeting sequence was being used. They were sitting in a computer room off the second floor lab complex above the E.R. Being back at the hospital felt strange for some reason, as though she didn’t fit there anymore. She wasn’t sure if it was her being off-shift, the investigation, or what had happened between her and Parker the night before, but she felt as though something had shifted inside her.
She felt as though she didn’t belong at Boston General anymore. But if that was the case, where did she belong?
Before she could come up with an answer for that question, the MS results popped up on her computer screen. When she saw that she’d actually gotten an answer, she jolted in surprise. When she saw the result, she hissed with satisfaction. “Gotcha, you bastard.”
The men instantly crowded around her. “You got the targeting sequence?” Parker demanded.
He reached to grab the printout, but she held it away. “It looks like he got his hands on one of the newer generations, the kind that’re programmed to congregate at the peripheral nerve bundles.”
Which explained the pain symptoms, she thought with a shiver.
“Does knowing that help?” Stankowski asked quickly.
“It might,” Mandy said, turning for a nearby computer, only to find Parker there ahead of her, pounding away at the keyboard. “Anyone local been working on neurotargeting?”
He scanned the list of articles offered through the linked MedLine databases. “I don’t see any—wait. Here’s one.” He clicked on the link and pulled up an abstract that summarized the full paper. He scrolled down to the bottom, where the university and company affiliations of each of the authors were listed. “UniVax Pharmaceuticals is working on a system, but it looks like they’ve hit some glitches in the Phase II trials.” He glanced at her. “They’re reporting ‘unacceptable side effects.’ What do you want to bet that includes systemic pain?”
And death. He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t have to. They all knew what was at stake.
She nodded. “Do you know anyone over there we could talk to?”
He grimaced, “I know of the CEO more than I know her personally. Arabella Cuthbert aka Cutthroat Cuthbert. She doesn’t have a warm and fuzzy reputation.”
Mandy winced. “Coming from Dr. Detachment himself, that’s saying a lot.”
“I’ll call in a warrant,” Stankowski said, reaching for the phone.
“Make it as broad as you can,” Parker instructed. “We’ll want to get a look at their access logs, so we know exactly who can and has put their hands on the targeting sequence in the past few months. We’ll also want to get a look at those Phase II reports and see what sort of side effects they were having.”
As he spoke, Parker pushed away from the computer and stood, and Mandy was struck afresh by how tall he was, how broad
and commanding, seeming to fill any room he walked into. That reminded her of the night before, bringing a faint wash of heat, a faint tug of wistfulness when she wondered if he regretted having missed the past four years with her, or if he was, on some deeply buried level, relieved to know their affair had a definite endpoint this time. A permanent one.
Don’t think that way, she chided herself, knowing she was projecting her own fears onto Parker, who had been nothing but kind and supportive all morning. Which, she admitted privately, was part of the problem. His attentiveness only served to underscore the ticking clock, because she knew damn well he’d never have acted that way under normal circumstances.
“Got it,” Stankowski said, interrupting her thoughts. He hung up the phone with a decisive click. “There’s definitely some pressure coming down from above, because that’s about the fastest warrant response on record. Come on.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “If you two are up for it, I’d like you along to tell me what I’m looking for and what I’m looking at.”
“You couldn’t keep us away,” Parker said simply. He grabbed Mandy’s coat from a rack beside the door and held it for her.
She accepted the small gesture, but couldn’t help feeling as though she’d fallen into some sort of alternate reality where Parker actually acted like not only a normal guy, but a caring boyfriend.
As she preceded him through the door out into the hall, she couldn’t help feeling that it was all a bit last mealish, which gave her the serious willies.
Trying to stifle the thought, she followed the men down the stairs and across the Atrium toward the main entrance. They were halfway across the open space, headed for the taxi queue outside the main admit desk, where Stankowski had double-parked his unmarked car, when someone called, “Mandy!”
She jolted and turned, and felt a different sort of discomfort when she recognized the figure hurrying toward them across the black-and-white checked tilework of the Atrium courtyard. “Kim! What are you doing here?”
The pretty brunette drew back, her normally cheerful expression clouding to confusion as she glanced from Mandy to Parker, and then to Stankowski. Her voice was cautious when she replied, “A woman delivered in Exam Three and I came down with the team to observe. I was on my way back up when I saw you.” She paused, still looking at the men. “You swore to me you were okay. This doesn’t look like you being okay. Are you in trouble or something?”
Mandy didn’t answer right away, because how could she possibly answer? Tears threatened out of nowhere at the sight of her friend, and the knowledge that she might not be a Wannabe for much longer.
No, everything’s not okay, she wanted to say. She wanted to lean on her friend, wanted to hug her, to cry all over her…but at the same time she didn’t have the time—or the emotional energy—to go through it all right then. Not when searching UniVax Pharmaceuticals might give her the answers she needed.
She reached out and gripped Kim’s forearm, needing the contact. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk now. Can I call you later?”
Under other circumstances, Kim would’ve pushed for an answer, nagging her until she gave in. Maybe she sensed just how serious the situation was, or maybe she was intimidated by Radcliff’s famed gruff temper, because she only shifted her touch, so her fingers linked with Mandy’s, and squeezed reassuringly. “Sure, babe. Call me anytime.”
Then she pulled Mandy in for an impulsive hug, before letting go and hurrying away. As she turned, Mandy thought she caught a glint of tears.
She glanced at Parker. “Any idea what the hospital rumor mill is saying?”
“I’ve tried to keep attention away from you being mugged the other day.” His eyes were grave as he watched Kim disappear in the direction of the elevators that would take her back to the NICU. “Because of that, they’re probably saying we’re back together. No doubt there’s a pool on how long it’ll last this time, and whether you’ll take off again when it’s over.”
Face heating, Mandy shot a look at Stankowski, who pretended sudden interest in the fountain at the center of the Atrium courtyard. He wandered a few feet away and dug in his pocket, ostensibly to flip a lucky coin in the water, in reality to give them a few seconds of semiprivacy to say what needed to be said.
But what was that, exactly? Don’t worry, if I manage to survive past the day after tomorrow, no hard feelings on the relationship front didn’t seem appropriate, and really it went without saying. She was using him for comfort and he was willing to be used. It was nothing more than that.
Rather, it couldn’t be any more than that.
Which is why, instead of getting in any deeper than she already was, she lifted a shoulder and faked a shrug. “If you figure out who’s running the pool, put twenty each on ‘it’ll last two days’ and ‘she’ll stick around once it’s over’ for me, will you?” She smiled, and almost meant it. “I’m optimistic enough to think I’ll be around long enough to collect.”
She expected him to be relieved at being given a free pass on the conversation. Instead he looked at her long and hard, and there was something equally hard in his eyes when he said, “I’m going to damn well make sure you’re around.”
She knew he meant he was determined to find a cure for whatever was inside her, but that didn’t stop sly warmth from kindling.
To hide the response—and avoid thinking about what it might mean—she turned away and waved to the detective. “Let’s go. We have an antidote to find.”
THEY LEFT Boston General near 10:00 a.m. but it was early afternoon by the time Stankowski actually secured the warrant. The judge who had originally agreed to sign off on it wound up refusing to sign and then went incommunicado, forcing the detective to hunt down another judge. After a half-dozen wasted calls and trips, he finally managed to contact a notoriously difficult judge, who surprisingly agreed to sign off on the search.
While Stank went inside the courthouse to get the papers signed, Parker waited in an unmarked squad with Mandy, who’d been growing increasingly pale as the day continued. The rash had faded, but she’d battled a brief spurt of nausea, which only seemed to confirm that she’d been injected with the same cocktail as Irene Dulbecco.
It also indicated that, based on the other cases, they had less than twenty-four hours before she started showing pain symptoms.
Parker looked over at her. She’d leaned her head back against the back of the rear bench seat, and had her eyes closed. The pale cast to her skin made her look fragile and vulnerable, though the set of her jaw was anything but. The determination that was etched on her face, even when she was semirelaxed, all but shouted that she intended to fight her fate to the last possible second.
Parker’s chest tightened with frustration. He wanted to fix her, comfort her, to do something, anything to stop what was happening inside her. The delay chafed. They should’ve been inside UniVax Pharmaceuticals hours ago.
“What do you think happened with the warrant?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Damned if I know.” He blew out a breath and stared at the front door of the courthouse, willing Stank to appear. “It doesn’t make any sense. Stank’s been getting pressure from above to get the case solved so the local bigwigs living in the Patriot District feel safe. But if that’s the case, then why the sudden roadblock?”
“Maybe UniVax has powerful friends, too.” Mandy opened her eyes and turned toward him.
Still lying back in the seat, she created an intimate picture that reminded him all too strongly of the night before, when she’d laid on his bed, waiting for him. Wanting him. Accepting him without reservation.
That’s only because she’s a little low on choices right now, Parker reminded himself. Under any other circumstances, he knew, they’d be locked in the same spiral as before, with her wanting more and him wanting out.
“Powerful friends,” Parker repeated, forcing himself to focus on the conversation. “That’s a possibility. Or…” He trailed off, not able to come up wi
th a better suggestion. Shaking his head, he said, “Nope, that’s probably it. That doesn’t necessarily mean UniVax is dirty, though. Just that they have good lobbyists.”
Moments later, the courthouse door swung open and Stankowski jogged down the steps.
“You got it?” Parker asked the moment the detective was in the driver’s seat.
Stankowksi patted his pocket. “Signed and sealed.”
Mandy leaned forward. “Did the judge tell you who was trying to block the warrant?”
“She wouldn’t say, and I didn’t press. I figured getting into UniVax is priority numero uno. After we’ve got you all cured and our mad scientist is locked up, then I’ll do some sniffing around and figure out who’s pulling the political ropes.”
The detective pulled out onto Court Street and accelerated into traffic. The inertia pressed Mandy back against Parker, forcing her to brace a hand against his thigh.
When she leaned away, he covered her hand with his own and squeezed until she relaxed, leaving them sitting side by side, holding hands.
A short drive brought them to the building that housed UniVax Pharmaceuticals. Taking up most of a city block, the huge building housed offices and labs on one side, a warehouse and distribution facility on the other.
“Seems strange they didn’t move their manufacturing and shipping out of the city,” Mandy commented as Stankowski flashed his badge at a guard shack and was granted access to a small parking area that was clearly reserved for VIP guests and upper management.
“They’ve worked out some seriously beneficial tax breaks,” Parker said, having called in a few favors for inside information on the company while they’d waited for the warrant. “They were talking about moving the entire operation to New Hampshire at one point, and even had the plans drawn up and contingencies signed on the land. Then the mayor stepped in—or some of his cronies did, I’m not entirely clear on who did what yet—and made them a deal they couldn’t refuse, one that made it profitable to keep all their operations downtown, even with Boston traffic.”
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