Arthur Hailey - Strong Medicine

"It's also a way," someone else said, .of letting costs get out of hand. " For nearly an hour the debate continued, with more opposition surfacing and alternative ideas being put forward. But there was support for Sam's proposal from several directors, support which Owen Norton's stand had strengthened, and in the end the opposition dissipated. Finally the original proposal was approved by a vote of thirteen to one, Clinton Etheridge the sole dissenter. "Thank you, gentlemen," Sam acknowledged.”I truly believe that something productive will come from this decision.”

Later the same day he sent for Celia. "You're moving on," he told her without time-wasting preliminaries.”The International Division is now behind you. Your new job is special assistant to the president and you'll be my right hand in setting up a British research institute.”

"All right," Celia acknowledged; the news delighted her, but she kept her tone as brisk as Sam's. He was showing signs, she thought, of some of the pressures which inevitably were crowding him. He was now almost totally bald, only a thin fringe of hair remaining. From her own point of view, Celia reasoned, there would be time for celebration tonight when she shared her news with Andrew. She asked, "When do I start?" Mentally she was calculating how long it would take to hand over her Latin-American responsibilities. A month should be enough. "I'd prefer to make it this afternoon," Sam answered.”But we'll have to arrange an office for you, so let's say 9 A.M. tomorrow.”

"This new assignment you have," Sam explained to Celia next day, "won't last long. Your main job will be to help get our British research institute established, staffed and operating. I'd like to have that done in a year, though sooner would be better. As soon as possible after that, we'll find you something else.”

The priorities, Sam continued, were to find and appoint a British scientist who would head the institute, to decide where in Britain it should be located, then to buy or lease a building-preferably an existing one capable of being adapted quickly to its new purpose. Everything was to be on an urgent basis-which was the reason for pulling Celia so suddenly from International. Sam personally would spearhead the search for a prestigious, capable scientific director, though Celia would help as needed. As to the other matters, Celia would handle those, coming up with recommendations for Sam and others to consider. Both Sam and Celia would leave for Britain the following week. Before then, however, they would consult with Vincent Lord who, despite his opposition to the project, was well informed about British science and scientists and might have names of candidates to suggest. The consultation with Dr. Lord took place a few days later in Sam's office, with Celia present. To Celia's surprise, Vince Lord was cooperative, even friendly as far as that capability lay within him. Sam, who understood more of the background than Celia, realized why. With Felding-Roth now committed to research in Britain, Lord wanted to control it. But Sam still was determined not to have that happen. "I've prepared a list," Lord informed them, "of people who could be potential candidates. You'll have to approach them discreetly because they are either professors at universities or are employed by our competitors.”

Sam and Celia examined the list, which contained eight names.”We'll be discreet," Sam promised, "but we'll also move quickly.”

"While you're over there," Lord said, "here's something else you might look into.”

From a file he extracted a batch of papers and letters clipped together.”I've been corresponding with a young scientist at Cambridge University. He's been doing some interesting work on mental aging and Alzheimer's disease, but he's run out of money and wants a grant.”

"Alzheimer's," Celia said.”That's when the brain stops functioning, isn't it?" Lord nodded.”Part of the brain. Memory disappears. The condition starts slowly and gets worse.”

Despite the research director's earlier aversion to Celia, he had come to accept her as a fixture in the company, and influential; therefore continued antagonism would be pointless. The two had even progressed to using first names-at first a touch awkwardly, but by now with ease. Sam took the letters from Lord, glanced through them and read aloud, "Dr. Martin Peat-Smith.”

Passing them to Celia, he asked Lord, "Do you recommend a grant?" The research director shrugged.”It's a long shot. Alzheimer's has baffled scientists since 1906 when it was first diagnosed. What Peat-Smith is doing is studying the aging process of the brain, hoping to find a cause of Alzheimer's while he does.”

"What are his chances?" "Slim.”

"We might put up some money," Sam said.”If we have time, I'll talk with him. But other things come first.”

Celia, who had been studying the letters, asked, "Is Dr. PeatSmith a possible candidate for institute director?" Lord looked surprised, then answered, "No.”

"Why not?" "For one thing, he's too young.”

Celia looked down at what she had been reading.”He's thirty-two.”

She smiled.”Weren't you about that age, Vince, when you came here?" He replied tautly, some of his normal irritation surfacing.”The circumstances were different.”

"Let's talk about these other people," Sam said. He had gone back to the original list.”Vince, brief me on them.”

June 1972. London was a blaze of pageantry and color. Celia reveled in it. In public parks and gardens a multitude of flowers-roses, lilacs, azaleas, irises--filled the air with fragrance. Tourists and Londoners basked in warm sunshine. Trooping the Color-tke military celebration of the Queen's birthday-was a vivid, dazzling performance to the music of massed bands. In Hyde Park, elegantly attired riders cantered on Rotten Row. Nearby, along the Serpentine, children happily fed ducks which competed for water space with splashing bathers. At Epsom the Derby had been run against a background of tradition, style and hoopla, victory going to the colt Roberto and jockey Lester Piggott, riding to his sixth Derby win. "Being here at this time doesn't feel like work," Celia told Sam one day. "I feel as if I should pay the company for the privilege.”

She was staying at the Berkeley in Knightsbridge from where, for the past several weeks, she had traveled to more than a dozen possible locations. for the Felding-Roth research institute. Celia was alone, since Andrew had not been able to leave his practice to come with her. Sam and Lilian Hawthorne were at Claridge's. It was to Claridge's, the Hawthornes' suite, that Celia brought her news and an opinion during June's third week. "I've traveled all over the country, as you know," she told Sam, "and I believe the best place for us to set up shop is at Harlow, Essex.” Lilian said, "I've never heard of it.”

"That's because Harlow was a little village," Celia explained.”Now it's something called a 'new town,' one of thirty-odd established by the British Government, which is trying to get people and industry out of big cities.”

She went on, "The location fits all our requirements. It's near London, has fast rail service, good roads, and an airport close by. There's housing and schools, with open countryside around-a wonderful place for staff to live.”

Sam asked, "How about a building?" "I've some news about that too.”

Celia consulted notes.”A company called Comthrust, which makes small communications equipment-intercom systems, burglar alarms, that kind of thing-built a plant at Harlow but ran into money problems. So now they can't afford the plant, which has roughly the square footage we want. It's never been occupied, and Comthrust is looking for a quick cash sale.” "Could the building be converted to labs?" "Easily.”