Richard Mabry: Lethal Remedy

Mark swiveled to the bookshelf behind his desk and took down a thick volume. It had been there since the day he opened his office, and on days like today he reached for it like a drowning man for a life preserver. He opened the book and thumbed through the pages until he found the passage he wanted. "He has told you, O man, what is good.

And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" Do justice. Even though he'd theoretically moved from law to medicine, the command was still in force. And he'd conveniently closed his eyes to it. He closed the Bible, bowed his head, and tried to make his mind a complete blank.

Sometimes this had worked-words that he was certain must have sprung from God came unbidden into his mind. Sometimes it didn't-his mind roiled with the emotions of the moment, and no guidance or comfort came to him. This was one of those times. Finally, he looked up and said aloud, "Nothing for me today? Guess I have to go with what I just read." Makes sense. Twentyseven hundred years shouldn't make good advice turn bad. He scrolled through the memory of his cell phone and punched a button. The call rang five times before an android voice announced the numbers and invited the caller to leave a message. Just as well. Makes it easier. "This is Mark. I'm ending my relationship with Jandra Pharmaceuticals immediately, resigning from my position as adjunct counsel. I won't go into the reasons. I'm pretty sure you already know them." He ended the call and tossed the phone onto his desk, where it skittered along and came to rest next to the Bible.

Mark hit a key on his computer and the screen sprang to life. He opened a new Word document and began to type his letter of resignation. He already knew what it would say. Two or three sentences that would sever his relationship with the company, with no reference to his reasons. He'd fax it first thing in the morning, send a hard copy by express courier, and keep two copies in his safe. If things went as he thought they might, it would be helpful to show that he had distanced himself from the company. He hoped it wasn't too late.

This part of Parkland Hospital was no longer a clinical ward. The hallway was dark and totally deserted. Nothing broke the silence. The patient rooms had been converted to various other uses: offices, storage, and in this case, Jack Ingersoll's ultrasecret research lab.

Sara consulted her watch. "Twelve oh five. Resnick's so compulsive, I can't believe he's late." Rip shrugged. "Maybe he's already in the lab and expects us to meet him there." Sara felt like hitting herself in the head, Three Stooges style. "I don't suppose you tried the door, did you?" "Nope. He called you, not me. I figured I'd let you take the lead." His grin was almost lost in the shadows that covered his face.

"I'm just the muscle." "Okay, muscle. Stick close to me, would you?"

She put her hand on the doorknob and twisted. It moved easily. "It's unlocked." Sara took a deep breath and inched the door open. The lights were on in the room, but she couldn't see anyone in the area open to view. "Want me to go in first?" Rip asked. "No, he's expecting to see me. I can do it." "I'll be right behind you." She opened the door widely and entered on tiptoe. Why am I trying to be quiet? There was something weird and a bit scary about being here in Resnick and Ingersoll's inner sanctum after it had been declared off-limits for so long. Sara took a full step inside and turned to scan the room. Lab counters contained a mixed array of equipment: computers, several machines she recognized as apparatus for doing blood analysis, and a profusion of glassware and bottles. Nothing here that wouldn't be found in a well-equipped hospital laboratory. No sinister machines labeled "Danger." No bottles marked with a skull and crossbones. None of the material in the room explained the feeling of unease she had.

No, that came from the people who worked there. A door at the far end of the room opened, and Carter Resnick walked in. "You're a few minutes late, but I'm glad you came." He had both hands in the pockets of a white lab coat. He removed the left one and pointed around the room. "I know you've both been anxious to see what's in here, and I can't fathom why that is. As you can see, there's nothing out of the ordinary in our setup." "It's not the setup that worries us," Sara said. "It's what you do here. You have all the data about the Jandramycin study here, and that includes the actual mechanism by which it kills Staph luciferus." She held up a hand. "And don't give me that 'destroys the cell wall' stuff. We know better than that." Rip stepped forward to stand beside Sara. "It's an immunologic process, isn't it?" Resnick used his free hand to rub his head. "Bingo. How did you find that out?" Rip shook his head. "Never mind. What we really need to know is how we can prevent patients who receive the drug from getting a late complication." "I'm interested," Resnick said. "Do you know what percent that would be?" "Among the patients treated here, 15 percent, now approaching 20." "Bravo," Resnick said. "Why do you suppose that is?" "Let's not be coy, Carter," Sara said. "We know that the response is autoimmune, and we're pretty sure the patients who get it are those with underlying allergies like hay fever and asthma. The question remains, how do we counter that?" "Truthfully, we don't know," Resnick said. "The drug alters the patient's immune system so it produces antibodies specifi c for Staph luciferus, essentially making the patient his own source of antibiotics. Unfortunately, when it's given to a patient with an allergic predisposition, that little late effect comes into play." Rip took a step forward. "That little late effect, as you called it, is destroying lives. It's already killed one patient we know about, and there will probably be more.

Don't you have any idea how to prevent it?" "You may be surprised to know that my contact at Jandra and I are well aware of that problem.

He's been sending me other compounds, modifications of the EpAm848 structure, and I've tried them, but so far they've all had a flaw. A fatal flaw in one instance." "Tried them how?" Sara asked. Resnick smiled. "Mainly I used mice and hamsters, although I had one very fortuitous opportunity to test a compound on a homeless man in the ER.

Unfortunately, that one caused anaphylaxis and he died." Sara noticed that Resnick's right hand never left the pocket of his lab coat. She eased her own right hand down and began to slowly unzip her bag that hung from her shoulder. Keep him talking. Distract him. "You said your 'contact at Jandra.' Who is that?" "You don't really need to know."

Resnick moved his hand slightly in his pocket. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept your hand out of your purse." Sara let her hand rest lightly on top of the purse. "Did your contact at Jandra tell you to shoot at me?" "And are you the one who tried to run my car into a concrete abutment?" Rip asked. "Of course. And, before you ask, I'm the one who put the nitrogen triiodide on the floor of your office. It was all an effort to discourage you from prying. We've worked too hard keeping the side effects of Jandramycin hidden to let you spoil it for us. When the drug goes on the market, I'm going to share in the glory-and the profits." "What about Jack?" Sara asked. "What was his role in all this?" "No more questions. I have orders to put an end to your prying, no matter what it takes." He pulled a snub-nose revolver from the pocket of his lab coat and moved it back and forth between Sara and Rip. "So I'm going to shoot you." "How are you going to explain this?" Sara asked. As though it will matter to me, after I'm dead. Her hand inched the zipper of her purse forward by millimeters.

She had to keep Resnick talking. "I've got it worked out. I have a gun locked in my desk drawer. I paid a hundred dollars for it one Saturday night at a bar in South Dallas, and it's untraceable. After I shoot you both, I'll put it in one of your hands." "And what will you tell the police?" Sara's fingers moved with agonizing slowness. She felt the purse open. Just another inch or so. "I came back here to work on some experiments, found that you two had broken in. You demanded information that Jandra deems proprietary. I refused. You pulled a gun on me, and I shot in self-defense." Resnick smirked. "It's perfect."