Robin Cook - Acceptable Risk

“Are you busy tonight?” Edward asked his old friend.

“I’m busy every night,” Stanton said. “What’s on your mind? Did you read that prospectus?”

“How about having dinner with me and Kim?” Edward said. “There’s something you should know.”

“Ah ha, you old rogue,” Stanton said. “Is this going to be some sort of a major social announcement?”

“I believe I’d rather discuss it in person,” Edward said smoothly. “What about dinner? It will be my treat!”

“This is sounding serious,” Stanton said. “I have a dinner reservation at Anago Bistro on Main Street in Cambridge. The reservation is for two, but I’ll see that it gets changed to four. It’s for eight p.m. I’ll call back if there is a problem.”

“That’s perfect,” Edward said. Then he hung up before Stanton could ask any more questions. Edward dialed Kim at work in the SICU.

“Busy?” he asked when Kim came on the line.

“Don’t ask,” Kim said.

“I made dinner plans with Stanton and his wife,” Edward said excitedly. “It will be at eight unless I hear back from Stanton. I’m sorry it’s such short notice. I hope it’s OK for you.”

“You’re not working tonight?” Kim asked with surprise.

“I’m taking the evening off,” Edward said.

“What about tomorrow?” Kim asked. “Are we still going up to Salem?”

“We’ll talk about it,” Edward said noncommittally. “What about dinner?”

“I’d rather eat just with you,” Kim said.

“You’re sweet to say that,” Edward said. “And I’d rather eat just with you. But I have to talk with Stanton, and I thought we could make a little party out of it. I know I haven’t been so much fun this week.”

“You sound buoyant,” Kim said. “Did something good happen today?”

“It’s all been good,” Edward said. “And that’s why this meeting is important. After the dinner just you and I can spend some time together. We’ll take a walk in the square like we did the evening we first met. How about it?”

“You’ve got a date,” Kim said.

Kim and Edward arrived at the restaurant first, and the hostess, who was also one of the owners, sat them at a cozy table wedged into a nook next to the window. The view was out over a portion of Main Street with its collection of pizza joints and Indian restaurants. A fire truck sped by with all its bells and sirens screaming.

“I’d swear the Cambridge fire company uses their equipment to go for coffee,” Edward said. He laughed as he watched the truck recede. “They’re always out riding around. There can’t be that many fires.”

Kim eyed Edward. He was in a rare mood. Kim had never seen him so talkative and jovial, and although he looked tired, he was acting as if he’d just had several espressos. He even ordered a bottle of wine.

“I thought you told me you always let Stanton order the wine,” Kim said.

Before Edward could answer, Stanton arrived, and true to character breezed into the restaurant as if he were an owner. He kissed the hostess’s hand, which the hostess endured with thinly disguised impatience.

“OK, you guys,” Stanton said to Edward and Kim as he tried to help Candice into her chair. The table was narrow, and each couple had to sit side-by-side. “What’s the big news between you two? Do I have to pop for a bottle of Dom Pérignon?”

Kim looked at Edward for some explanation.

“I’ve already ordered some wine,” Edward said. “It will do nicely.”

“You ordered wine?” Stanton questioned. “But they don’t serve Ripple here.” Stanton laughed heartily as he sat down.

“I ordered an Italian white,” Edward said. “A cool dry wine goes nicely with hot summer weather.”

Kim lifted her eyebrows. This was a side of Edward she’d not seen.

“So what is it?” Stanton said. He eagerly leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Are you two getting married?”

Kim blushed. With some embarrassment she wondered if Edward had told Stanton about their plans to share the cottage. It wasn’t a secret as far as she was concerned, but she would have liked to tell her family herself.

“I should be so lucky,” Edward said with a laugh of his own. “I’ve got some news-but it’s not that good.”

Kim blinked and looked at Edward. She was impressed he dealt so adroitly with Stanton’s inappropriate comment.

The waitress arrived with the wine. Stanton made a production of examining the label before allowing it to be opened. “I’m surprised, old boy,” he said to Edward. “Not a bad choice.”

Once the wine was poured, Stanton started to make a toast, but Edward quieted him.

“It’s my turn,” Edward said. He held out his glass toward Stanton. “To the world’s cleverest medical venture capitalist,” he said.

“And I thought you never noticed,” Stanton said with a laugh. Then they all took a drink.

“I have a question for you,” Edward said to Stanton. “Were you serious when you said recently that a new, effective psychotropic drug could potentially be a billion-dollar molecule?”

“Absolutely,” Stanton said. His demeanor instantly became more serious. “Is this why we’re here? Do you have some new information about the drug that sent me on my psychedelic trip?”

Both Candice and Kim questioned what psychedelic trip Stanton was referring to. When they heard what had happened they were appalled.

“It wasn’t half bad,” Stanton said. “I rather enjoyed it.”

“I’ve got a lot of information,” Edward said. “All of it is superlative. We eliminated the hallucinogenic effect by altering the molecule. Now I think we have created the next-generation drug to the likes of Prozac and Xanax. It seems to be perfect. It’s nontoxic, effective orally, has fewer side effects and probably a broader therapeutic capability. In fact, because of its unique side chain structure capable of alteration and substitution, it might have unlimited therapeutic capability in the psychotropic arena.”

“Be more specific,” Stanton said. “What do you think this drug can do?”

“We believe it will have a general, positive impact on mood,” Edward said. “It seems to be antidepressant and anxiolytic, meaning it lowers anxiety. It also seems to function as a general tonic to combat fatigue, increase contentment, sharpen the senses, and encourage clear thinking by enhancing long-term memory.”

“My God!” Stanton exclaimed. “What doesn’t it do? It sounds like Soma from Brave New World.”

“That analogy might have merit,” Edward said.

“One question,” Stanton said. He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Will it make sex better?”

Edward shrugged. “It might,” he said. “Since it enhances the senses, sex could be more intense.”

Stanton threw up his hands. “Hell,” he said. “We’re not talking about a billion-dollar molecule; we’re talking about a five-billion-dollar molecule.”

“Are you serious?” Edward asked.

“Let’s say a billion plus,” Stanton said.

The waitress interrupted their conversation. They ordered their dinners. After she’d left, Edward was the first to speak. “We haven’t proven any of this,” he said. “There’s been no controlled experiments.”

“But you’re pretty confident,” Stanton said.

“Very confident,” Edward said.

“Who knows about this?” Stanton asked.

“Only me, my closest assistant, and the people at this table,” Edward said.

“Do you have any idea how the drug works?” Stanton asked.

“Only a vague hypothesis,” Edward said. “The drug seems to stabilize the concentrations of the brain’s major neurotransmitters and in that way works on a multilevel basis. It affects individual neurons but also whole networks of cells as if it were an autocoid or brain hormone.”