Arthur Hailey - Strong Medicine

"I've heard it said that they stay, in some ways, childlike.”

"Precisely, Ws. Jordan, and in certain areas very much that way. It's why one sees, so often, childish behavior in academic circles-petty squabbles and the like, over trivial issues.”

Celia said thoughtfully, "I would not have thought any of that was true of Martin Peat-Smith.”

"Possibly not, within those specific limits," Bentley acknowledged.”But in other ways.”

"Tell me.”

"Well, something Dr. Peat-Smith has great trouble with is small decisions. Some days, as one might put it, he can't decide which side of the street to walk on. As an example, he agonized for weeks over which one of two technicians we employ should have preference in going on a three-day course in London. It was a minor matter, something you or I would have decided in a few minutes and, in the end, because my superior couldn't reach a decision, I made it for him. All this, of course, is in total contrast to Dr. Peat-Smith's mainstream purpose-his scientific clarity and dedication.”

"You're making several things much clearer," Celia said.”Including why Martin hasn't sent reports.”

"There's something else I believe I should point out," Bentley volunteered.”it may even have a bearing on your visit.”

"Go ahead,” "Dr. Peat-Smith is a leader and, as with any leader, it would be a mistake for him to show weakness or exhibit doubts about the progress being made here. If he did, the morale of those working with him would collapse. And something else: Dr. Peat-Smith has been usod to working alone, at his own pace. Now, suddenly, he has huge responsibilities, with many people depending on him, as well as other pressures-subtle and not so subtle-including your own presence, Mrs, Jordan, here and now. All those things are an enormous strain on any individual.”

"Then there are doubts about the work being done," Celia said.”Serious doubts? I've been wondering.”

Bentley, who was facing Celia across his desk, put the tips of his fingers. together and regarded her across them.”In working here I have an obligation to Dr. Peat-Smith, but an even larger responsibility to you and Mr. Hawthorne. Therefore I must answer your question-yes.”

"I want to know about those doubts," Celia said. ”In detail.”

Bentley answered, "I lack the scientific qualifications.”

He hesitated, and then went on, "it would be irregular, perhaps, but I believe you should speak privately with Dr. Sastri and instruct him, as you have authority to do, to open up totally and frankly.”

Dr. Rao Sastri, as Celia knew, was the nucleic acid chemist-a Pakistani, formerly a Cambridge colleague-whom Martin had recruited as his scientific second-in-command. "This is too important to worry about what's regular or isn't, Mr. Bentley," she said.”Thank you. I'll do as you suggest.”

"Is there any other way in which I can help?" Celia considered.”Martin quoted John Locke at me today. Is he a Locke disciple?" "Yes, and so am L" Bentley gave a small, tight smile.”The two of us share a conviction that Locke was one of the finer philosophers and guides this world has ever known.”

"I'd like something of Locke's to read tonight," Celia said.”Can you get it for me?" Bentley made a note. ”It will be waiting for you at your hotel.”

It was not until late afternoon, during her second day at Harlow, that Celia was able to have her talk with Dr. Sastri. In between that and her session the previous day with Nigel Bentley, she talked with others at the institute who were consistently cheerful and optimistic in their views about the Harlow research scene. Yet still Celia had a sense of something being held back, an instinct that those she had met were being less than forthright with her. Rao Sastri proved to be a handsome, dark-skinned, articulate and fast-speaking young man, still in his twenties. Celia knew he had a Ph.D. And a brilliant scholastic record, and both Martin and Bentley had assured her the institute was fortunate in having him. Sastri and Celia met in an annex to the plant cafeteria, a small room normally used by senior staff for working lunches. After shaking hands with Sastri, and before they sat down, Celia closed the door for privacy. She said, "I believe you know who I am.”

"Indeed, Mrs. Jordan. My colleague Peat-Smith has spoken of you frequently, and kindly. At this time I am honored to meet you.”

Sastri's speech was cultured and precise, with a Pakistani lilt. He also smiled frequently, though at times switching off the smile with a trace of nervousness. "I am happy to meet you also," Celia said, "and wish to discuss with you the progress of research here.”

"It is wonderful! Truly marvelous! A jolly good show all around.”

"Yes," Celia acknowledged, "others have told me the same. But before we go on I would like to make clear that I am here on behalf of Mr. Hawthorne, the president of Felding-Roth, and exercising his authority.”

"Oh, dear! My goodness! I wonder what is coming now.”

"What is coming, Dr. Sastri, is that I am asking you--ordering you, in fact-to be totally frank with me, holding back nothing, including any doubts you have, and which so far you may have kept entirely to yourself.”

"All this is damned awkward," Sastri said.”Also not entirely fair, as I pointed out to Bentley when he informed me of this line you would be taking. I do, after all, have an obligation to Peat-Smith, who is a decent chap.”

"You have an even bigger obligation to Felding-Roth," Celia told him sharply, "because the company pays your salary-a good one -and is entitled to your honest professional opinions in return.”

"I say, Mrs. Jordan! You don't mess about, do you?" The young Pakistani's tone mixed shock and awe. "Messing about-as you eloquently put it, Dr. Sastri-takes time, which I don't have a lot of, since I'm returning to America tomorrow. So please tell me exactly where, in your opinion, our institute research is, and where it's going.”

Sastri raised both hands in a submissive gesture, and sighed.”Very well. The research is not very far along. And, in my humble opinion and that of others in this project, it is going nowhere.”

"Explain those opinions.”

"In more than two years, all that has been achieved is to confirm a theory that there are brain DNA changes during aging. Oh yes, it is an interesting accomplishment, but beyond it we are facing a damned blank wall which we do not have techniques to penetrate, may not have for many years, and even then the peptide Peat-Smith has postulated may not be behind the wall.”

Celia queried, "You do not accept that postulation?" "It is my colleague's theory, Mrs. Jordan. I admit I shared it.”

Sastri shook his head regretfully.”But, in my inmost heart, no longer.”

"Martin informed me," Celia said, "that you have proved the existence of a unique RNA and "Which is, by golly, true! But perhaps what you were not told is that the isolated material may be too large. The mRNA strand is long, and codes for many proteins, possibly forty altogether. It is therefore unusable-just 'nonsense' peptides.”

Celia reached into her scientific memory.”Can the material be cleaved? Each peptide isolated?" Sastri smiled; his voice assumed a superior edge.”There is the blank wall. There are no techniques to take us further. Possibly in ten years from now...”

He shrugged. For another twenty minutes they talked science, Celia learning that, of the group of scientists now working at Harlow on the mental aging project, only Martin remained a true believer that it would produce worthwhile results. At the end she said, "Thank you, Dr. Sastri. You've told me what I crossed the Atlantic to find out.”

The young man nodded sadly.”I have done my duty as you insisted. But I will not sleep well tonight.”