Harlan Coben - Miracle Cure

"We can't say for sure."

Sara shook her head.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure where to begin actually." Dr. John Lowell rose and moved toward a bookshelf filled with large medical volumes.

His eyes passed over the titles, but they read nothing.

"You know how I feel about the Cancer Center, don't you?"

"Of course we do," Sara replied, "but what does that have to do with "

"Everything, Sara," John said simply. He pulled out a book, glanced at the binding, and put it back in the shelf.

"You see, focus can be a dangerous thing. Your view of the world narrows.

You grow obsessed. Blinded. You see everything in terms of your obsession and nothing else. You cannot accept defeat. You cannot understand why everyone else does not share your passion. Don't get me wrong. Concentration and focus are good and necessary.

But when they slide unchecked, they can distort your perspective.

In the ultimate pursuit of knowledge, you can easily become ignorant."

Sara and Cassandra shared a confused glance.

"I still don't understand." John smiled sadly.

"You will. This is not easy for me to say, so just give me a little time. I'll get to the heart of the matter eventually."

The sisters nodded.

"I wanted that new wing at the Cancer Center so badly I ached physically," he continued.

"It could help so many people people suffering the worst medical curse known to mankind. Diseases and plagues come and go, but cancer is a constant. I thought the new wing and the additional finances would be a gigantic step toward unlocking the secrets of cancer and, ultimately, to curing it. I would have done anything to get that new wing.

Anything." He paused here, letting his meaning sink into the still surroundings.

"When the additional finances for the new wing were rejected, it was like a spear through my heart. Those damn fools, I raged. How could they be so stupid? I tried to save the idea. I threw all the money I could into it, and tried to raise more privately. But it was not enough. We had needed the grant, and now that was gone. The new wing was dead. And why? Where had the money gone? To AIDS. To Harvey and Bruce's clinic. To a gay disease. To a drug addict's disease. To a disease I still believe will never run rampant in the normal heterosexual community."

Sara opened her mouth, but John stopped her by raising his hand.

"I don't want to argue with you, Sara. I know you feel differently.

Suffice to say that this is how I see it. Yes, some non intravenous-drug-abusing heterosexuals have come down with

AIDS, but the number is small, especially relative to the number of people who die from cancer. This is how I see it right or wrong it doesn't matter anymore."

He caught Sara's eyes then. A small smile appeared on his face.

"You remember when we watched Damn Yankees on the video? Remember how the guy sells his soul to the devil in order to get what he wants?

That's what I did. I didn't realize it at the time or maybe I did but I didn't care. Who knows anymore? I only know that I signed on with the devil and there was no looking back."

"What did you do?" Sara asked, her tone distant.

"My rage consumed me. I started to look for any way, legal or not, to get the money away from the clinic and into the Cancer Center. Raymond Markey he's the Assistant Secretary "

"I know who he is," Sara interrupted. Her voice was cold.

"Go on."

John cleared his throat.

"Anyway, Dr. Markey contacted me.

He said that there were other people who felt the way I did, people who felt too much emphasis was being placed on AIDS, people who wanted to bring down the Sidney Pavilion."

"What other people?"

John took a deep breath.

"Reverend Sanders, to name one."

Sara glared at her father.

"You signed on with that con man?"

"Listen to me, Sara. We both knew that we did not share the same ideology just the same enemy. Sanders had his reasons for wanting to destroy the clinic, and I had mine. His reasons did not matter to me.

The only important thing was getting the money for the new wing even if that meant working with Sanders."

"And who else joined you?"

"Me," Senator Jenkins replied from behind John.

"I was the fourth member of the conspiracy."

She turned her glare toward his.

"And what was your reason, Senator?"

"A strange one," he replied in an oddly calm voice.

"Love."

"What?"

"Let me explain," Senator Jenkins began, his voice hollow as though he were speaking through a long tube.

"I was readily accepted by Sanders because of my right-wing affiliations, but politics had nothing to do with why I joined."

"Then why?"

"Sara, you've covered political campaigns before, am I correct?"

"So?"

"So I don't have to tell you that politics is a strange game.

The strangest. Like it or not, a candidate must compromise to win elections. I am the leading senator in the Republican Party.

I agree with most of the Party's platforms, but lets say, for example, that I came out against the death penalty. Do you know what would happen?"

Sara folded her arms across her chest.

"Why don't you tell me?"

"I'd be finished. Wiped out. All my years of service would go right down the drain. I wouldn't get elected dog-catcher. Let me give you a better example: our current President's position on abortion. He used to be pro-choice. Now, he has magically shifted to pro-life. Do you honestly believe he had a change of heart? Of course not. He just accepted reality. He knew that if he ran as a pro-choice candidate, he would have never won the Republican nomination. And it's not just Republicans. The Democrats do it too. Do you really believe that every liberal senator is for abortion or against tax cuts? Of course not. They are just trying to get elected. Like I said before, you have to compromise.

You have to compromise your very values and beliefs. It is not necessarily the politician's fault. It's just the system. Play the game or don't get elected."

"I don't see the point in any of this," Sara said.

"I am just saying that a man cannot be so neatly labeled as right or left wing. At times we are all hypocrites. At times we all do things that others would consider sinful." He glanced at Cassandra quickly and then continued.

"What I am trying to say is this: despite popular belief, I do not agree with a good many of Reverend Sanders' views."

"Then why did you join him?"

"For my son," he replied.

"You joined up with Sanders for Bradley?"

The senator nodded. His eyes were moist, but his voice did not waver.

"I was just trying to save my boy. When I found out that Sanders wanted to destroy an AIDS clinic, I figured that it must be making strides in discovering a cure. So I contacted Sanders and told him I was interested in enlisting in his

"Holy Crusade' against the unnamed clinic. Sanders welcomed me aboard. Truth was, I just wanted to find out more about it so I could enroll Bradley there."

"Which you did."

"Yes. Dr. Riker and Dr. Grey promised to keep it a secret." "So," Sara said, "you joined this crazy conspiracy to help your son, my father wanted to help the Cancer Center, and Reverend Sanders so he wouldn't have to explain a cure for

"God's Plague' to his parishioners.

Does that cover it, gentlemen?"

Both men nodded.

"So where does Assistant Secretary Markey fit into all of this?"

"I can't say for sure," John began.

"Markey has known Harvey for a long time. He claims he doesn't trust him. He says Harvey cuts too many corners, but I think there's more to it than that.

I think Sanders is blackmailing him with something."

"And on top of that," Jenkins added, "Sanders' influence got Markey his job with the government and his office on the NIH campus. It's nice and quiet there. Markey likes it."