Robin Cook - Seizure

“You’re talking in riddles,” Daniel grumbled.

“Perhaps I am,” Ashley admitted. “Do I have your interest? I shall not proceed unless I am convinced of your interest.”

Ashley heard Daniel exhale impatiently, and he imagined the doctor had rolled his eyes by his body language, but he couldn’t tell for certain because of the darkness in the car. Ashley waited while Daniel briefly stared out his window at the passing Smithsonian buildings.

“Merely admitting to your interest will neither obligate you or jeopardize you in any way,” Ashley said. “No other persons than those in this vehicle know that we are chatting tonight, provided, of course, that you have not informed anyone.”

“I would have been embarrassed to have told someone.”

“I choose to be immune to your rudeness, Doctor, as I was immune this morning to your lack of courtesy by your attire, your disdainful body language, and your verbal attacks on me. As a gentleman, I could have been insulted, but I am not. So save your breath! What I want to know is whether you are interested in negotiating.”

“What exactly would I be negotiating?”

“The viability of your start-up company, your current career, your chance of celebrity, and perhaps most important, an opportunity to avoid failure. I have reason to believe failure is a particular anathema to you.”

Daniel stared at Ashley in the half-light. Ashley could feel the intensity of the doctor’s eyes, despite being unable to see their details. It made the senator confident that he was indeed striking close to the man’s inner being.

“You believe I’m particularly adverse to failure?” Daniel questioned, in a voice that was less sardonic than earlier.

“Absolutely,” Ashley returned. “You are a powerfully competitive person, which, combined with your intellect, has been the driving force of your success. But powerfully competitive people do not like to fail, especially when part of their motivation is to escape their past. You have done well and come a long way from Revere, Massachusetts, yet your biggest nightmare involves a downfall that would force you back to your childhood roots. It is not a rational worry, considering your credentials, but it haunts you nonetheless.”

Daniel gave a short, mirthless laugh. “How did you come up with this ridiculously bizarre theory?” he questioned.

“I know a lot about you, my friend. My daddy always told me knowledge was power. And since we would be negotiating, I made it a point to take advantage of my considerable resources, including contacts at the Bureau, to learn as much about you and your start-up company as possible. In fact, not only do I know about you, I know about your family back several generations.”

“You’ve had me investigated by the FBI?” Daniel demanded. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“But you should! Let me give you some high points of what has turned out to be a most interesting story. First of all, you are directly related to the famous New England Lowell family named in the famous description of Boston society where the Lowells only talk to the Cabots and the Cabots only talk to God. Or is it the other way around? Carol, can you help me here?”

“You have it right, Senator,” Carol said.

“I am relieved,” Ashley said. “I do not want to damage my credibility so early in my discourse. Unfortunately, Doctor, being related to the famous Lowells has been no help to you. It seems that your alcoholic grandfather was disowned and, more important, disinherited after defying the family wishes first by dropping out of prep school to join the army as a doughboy during World War I, then by marrying a commoner from Medford after his discharge. It seems that he had had such a devastating experience in Europe during his service that he was psychologically unable to reintegrate into privileged society. This, of course, was in sharp contrast to his brothers and sisters, who had not been to the war and who were enjoying the excesses of the roaring twenties and who, even if they too might have risked becoming alcoholics, were at least finishing their schooling and marrying socially acceptable spouses.”

“Senator, I’m not finding this amusing. Can we get to the point?”

“Patience, my friend,” Ashley said. “Let me bring the history to the present. It seems that your alcoholic paternal grandfather was also not a particularly good father or role model for his ten children, one of whom was your daddy. Like father like son is certainly applicable to your father, who suffered through service in World War II. Although he avoided alcoholism for the most part, he was hardly a good father or role model to his nine children, as I am sure you would agree. Happily, with your competitiveness, intellect, and opportunity to avoid a war experience in Vietnam, you have broken this generational self-fulfilling downward spiral, but not without some scars.”

“Senator, for the last time, unless you tell me what is on your mind in plain English, I will insist we be taken back to our hotel.”

“But I have told you,” Ashley stated. “When you first got into the car.”

“You’d better run it by me again,” Daniel sneered. “Apparently, it was so subtle I completely missed it.”

“I told you I was interested in your Aesculapian talents.”

“Evoking the Roman god of healing is still making this into a riddle that I have no patience for. Let’s be specific, particularly since you were talking about this being a negotiation.”

“Specifically, I want to barter your powers as a physician with my powers as a politician.”

“I am a researcher, not a practicing physician.”

“But you are a physician nonetheless, and the research you do is to cure people.”

“Keep talking.”

“What I am about to tell you is central to why we are here talking together. But I must have your absolute word as a gentleman that what I am about to tell you will remain confidential, irrespective of the outcome of this meeting.”

“If it is truly personal, I have no problem keeping it a secret.”

“Excellent! And Dr. D’Agostino! Do I have your word as well?”

“Of course,” Stephanie stammered, surprised at being suddenly addressed. She was twisted in her seat, looking back at the men. She’d been in that position ever since the senator had started talking about Daniel’s fear of failure.

Carol was struggling with her driving and had slowed considerably. Mesmerized by the conversation unfolding in the backseat, her eyes were more on Ashley’s image in the rearview mirror than on the road. She was certain she knew what Ashley was about to say and now had an inkling of Ashley’s plan. She was appalled.

Ashley cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. To make matters worse, my neurologist believes I have a rapidly progressive variant, which seems to be the case. On my last visit he even raised the specter the malady may soon begin to effect my cognitive abilities.”

For a few moments there was absolute silence in the car.

“How long have you known about this?” Daniel questioned. “I’ve not noticed any tremor.”

“About a year. The medication has helped, but as my neurologist predicted, it is rather quickly losing its effectiveness. Thus, my infirmity will soon become public knowledge unless something is done and done soon. I’m afraid my political career is at stake.”

“I hope this whole charade is not leading up to what I think it is,” Daniel stated.

“I imagine it is,” Ashley admitted. “Doctor, I want to be your guinea pig or, more precisely, your surrogate mouse. You’ve been having such good luck with your mice, as you proudly reported this morning.”