Richard Mabry - Lethal Remedy

"Don't rush into it. I think I've already stirred up a hornet's nest.

Last night, someone took a shot at me." Rip rose and moved around the desk. She stood to meet him. He grasped her shoulders and said, "Are you okay? Did you call the police? What can we do to protect you?"

Sara didn't try to move his hands. "Yes, yes, and I don't know. But in the interim, we need to be careful who else knows about our efforts."

Rip relaxed his hold on her and moved back to his chair. "That's a pretty limited group so far. Besides you and me, there's Jack Ingersoll, and whoever you talked to at Jandra." "Don't forget Mark Wilcox and John Ramsey. They were in our little session last night."

"I guess John's okay, but I don't know Mark Wilcox. For all we know, he's on the Jandra payroll." Sara shook her head. "John brought him in, and I trust John's judgment. But I agree, we probably should be a little cautious around Mark in the future." She picked a pink message slip offher desk and began to fold and unfold it. "But you said you thought you had a way to find out the mode of action of Jandramycin.

What's that?" "Well, it may not be as great an idea as I thought, since your efforts got you shot at. Carter Resnick tells me he's become pretty good at hacking into computer systems. I was thinking about trying to wangle some cooperation from him." "So you think he could get into the FDA's computer and access the new drug app for Jandramycin?" "No, I think that information's fabricated. I was going to see if he could get the information from Jandra's system." "Why wouldn't that be a good idea?" Sara asked. "Resnick has been sort of off-again, on-again giving information to me. On the one hand, he seems anxious to take down Ingersoll. On the other, he guards the research data from his lab with a passion. I think young doctor Resnick has his own agenda. I don't know what it is, but in light of recent events I think I'd better be careful around him." Sara leaned back. "I think we'd both better be careful around anyone else until this thing is settled."

"Sara, this is Mark Wilcox." Mark braced his phone against his shoulder and reached into his desk drawer for a fresh legal pad. He might be practicing medicine now, but old habits die hard. "Do you have a second to talk?" "Just about that long. Your page caught me between my last clinic patient and afternoon hospital rounds. What's up?" "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight.

There's a great new restaurant I've heard about, and I'd love to take you there." Mark wasn't sure how to interpret the silence that followed. Was Sara looking for a graceful way to say "No"? Of course she could be checking her schedule to see if she was free. He began to doodle on the legal pad. "I… I'm not sure how good my company would be tonight." "Tell you what. If you're a terrible dinner companion, we'll split the check. But I'm betting it will be an enjoyable evening for both of us. Goodness knows, I can use one, and I'll bet you can, too." Another silence, but a shorter one this time.

"Okay. But I have to go by and pick up a rental car after work, so maybe I should meet you there." "Why a rental car?" As Sara told him about the shooting the night before, Mark pressed harder with his pencil until it broke, sending splintered pieces flying offhis desk.

"Are you all right? Did you call the police? And who would do something like this? Why?" "I'm fine. The police came and took a report. And as for the who and why, I'm still working on that." Mark was leaning back in his swivel chair. He came forward and his feet hit the floor with a dull thud. "Tell you what. Let me pick you up at the medical center. I'll take you to get your rental car. We can drop it offat your house and go to dinner together. How's that?" He was getting used to the silences. Obviously, Sara was working on overload right now, and she was thinking through all her responses. Finally, she said, "I guess that would work. And I have to eat sometime. Can you pick me up at the plaza outside the Clinical Science Building about six? No, make that six thirty." "Six thirty it is. I'll see you then. And in the meantime, be careful." After he hung up, Mark tore the page offthe legal pad, crushed it into a tight ball, and slammed it into the wastebasket. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Lillian Goodman emerged from the treatment room into the hallway of the clinic and almost bowled over John Ramsey. "Oh, sorry," she said. "Afraid I was thinking about this last patient." "No problem. I think about patients all the time. But it's good to have something to occupy my mind. Keeps me from feeling sorry for myself." Lillian looked into John's eyes and read the sadness there. "Look, it's none of my business, but I'm a widow. I've been down the road you're walking. I know it seems like you're never going to get past what you're feeling now, but believe me, you will." "I appreciate what you're saying, but I don't think I'll ever get over losing Beth." "I didn't say 'Get over,'" Lillian said. "I said 'Get past.' When you lose a spouse, or any loved one, your world never gets back to where it was. But eventually you have to adjust to the new normal." "I'm afraid I'm not doing very well at adjusting. I thought going back to work would help, and I guess it has, but still there are times when I feel overwhelmed with my sense of loss." "And those times will continue to come. You can feel sorry for yourself. You can even cry.

But the fact remains that you're still alive, and you ought to make good use of every day. Did it ever occur to you that maybe God left you here because there are some things God wants you to accomplish?"

"Beth told me that once. She said that when God said it was time for one of us to go, there was a reason, but we wouldn't have the chance to find out what it was until we got to heaven. I never paid a lot of attention to that. I just figured I'd go first, so I made all these plans to make sure she was cared for after I was gone. But now-"

Lillian looked at her watch. "I have patients, and you do, too. But I think it would do you good to talk some of this out. What say I buy you dinner? If not tonight, sometime soon. As I told you, I've been down this same road, and I remember how it helped to have someone to talk with about what I was feeling." She saw the look in his eyes and hastened to add, "Not a date. You're not ready, and if you were, it probably wouldn't be me. Just let me be a friend." "Well, guess it would help to talk. And dinner tonight sounds fine. Why don't we touch base after our last patients?" John turned away, then looked back over his shoulder, to add, "Thanks for the offer. I could use a friend right now."

Jack Ingersoll closed the last suitcase. Six days in Germany, presenting his paper at a prestigious international meeting, speaking at lunches and dinners where physicians would hang on his every word, all of it first class and paid for by Jandra. His allotted two pieces of luggage bulged, and he'd already thought of a few other things he might need. No matter. He'd buy it there in Europe. If Jandramycin did well, he need never worry about money again. His cell phone startled him out of his thoughts. As he pulled it from his pocket, he ran through the short list of people who had the number. Who could be calling? Resnick? No, Ingersoll was sure the detailed instructions for projects he'd left would keep Resnick safely tucked away in the lab for the duration of this trip. Pearson? Just the opposite of Resnick, who'd probably never had an original thought in his life, Pearson was competent to handle any question or problem that might come up. He looked at the caller ID. "Private Number." No help there. He punched the button to answer. "Dr. Ingersoll." "Jack, this is Bob Wolfe. All packed for Germany?" "Just finishing, Bob. My flight leaves in the morning. I assume you're about to be on your way as well." "I'll have to pack tonight-my duties keep me pretty busy around here, you know-but I look forward to seeing you and hearing your presentation."