Arthur Hailey - Strong Medicine

"I don't expect to either," Celia said.”But that's a price which people like you and me pay sometimes-for being where we are.”

5

At Martin's invitation, Celia went to his home for drinks during her second and last evening at Harlow, Afterward they would go on to dinner which she had arranged at the Churchgate Hotel where she was staying. Martin lived in a small semi-detached house about two miles from the Felding-Roth Institute. The house, while modern and functional, was similar to dozens of others nearby which appeared to Celia to have been assembled on a mass-production line. When she arrived, by taxi, Mar-tin escorted her to a tiny living room and, as on other occasions, she was aware of his admiring inspection. For the brief trip to Britain she had traveled lightly, wearing a tailored suit during daytimes, but tonight had on a Diane von Furstenberg wraparound dress in an attractive brown and white print, with a single strand of pearls. Her soft brown hair was stylish in the short, blunt cut of the day. On the way in from the front hall Celia stepped over or around five animals-a friendly Irish setter, a growling English bulldog, and three cats. Within the living room was a parrot on an open perch. She laughed.”You really are an animal lover.”

"I suppose I am," Martin smilingly agreed.”I enjoy having animals around and I'm a sucker for homeless cats.”

The cats seemed to know this and followed him slavishly. Celia knew that Martin lived alone, with a "daily" woman coming to clean. The living-room furniture was minimal, consisting mainly of a leather armchair with a reading light beside it, and three bookcases, crammed with scientific volumes. Some bottles, mixes and ice were set out on a small table. Martin waved her to the armchair and began mixing drinks. "I've the makings of a daiquiri, if that's what you'd like.”

"I'd like it," Celia said, "and I'm touched you should remember.”

She wondered if they would be as relaxed and friendly at the evening's end. As on earlier occasions, she was aware of Martin's physical attractiveness as a man, yet before coming here she had reminded herself of Sam Hawthorne's parting words: "No matter how much you like Martin... if you need to be tough and ruthless... do itl" "I'll be seeing Sam the day after tomorrow," Celia said.”I have to make a recommendation about the future of the Harlow institute, and I'd like to know what you think it should be.”

"That's easy.”

He handed her a daiquiri.”You should urge a continuance of our present research for another year, longer if necessary.” "There is opposition to continuing. You know that.”

"Yes.”

The confidence which Martin had shown ever since Celia's arrival was still in evidence.”But then, there are always short-sighted people, unable to see the big picture.”

"Is Dr. Sastri short-sighted?" "I'm sorry to say it-yes. How's the drink?" "Fine.”

"Rao came here an hour ago," Martin said.”He wanted to see me because he felt I should know everything he told you this afternoon. Rao has a strong sense of honor.”

"And?"

"He's wrong. Totally wrong. So are the others who have doubts.”

Celia asked, "Can you refute factually what Sastri says?" "Of course not!" Martin's impatience flashed, as it had yesterday.”All scientific research is based on theory. If we had facts instead, we wouldn't need to research. What is involved is informed, professional judgment and some instinct; some call the combination scientific arrogance. Either way, it's a conviction of being on the right track, knowing that only time-in this case a short time-is standing between you and what you're searching for.”

"Time and a great deal of money," Celia reminded him.”Also the question of whether yours, or Sastri's and some others, is the right judgment.”

Martin sipped a scotch and water he had poured himself and paused, considering. Then he said, "Money is something I don't like to think about more than I have to, especially money made from selling drugs. But you mentioned it first, so I'll tell you this now because maybe it's the only way I can get through to you, to Sam, and others like you.”

Celia watched Martin intently, listening carefully, wondering what was coming. "Even in what you think of as my scientific remoteness," he said, "I know that Felding-Roth is in deep trouble. If things don't improve within the next few years, the company could go under.”

He asked sharply, "Right or wrong?" Celia hesitated, then nodded.”Right.”

"What I can do, given a little more time, is save your company. Not only save it, but make it productive, acclaimed and enormously rich. That's because, at the end of my research, there will be important medication-a drug.”

Martin grimaced before going on.”Not that I care about any commercial outcome. I don't. I'm also embarrassed to be talking about it now. But when it happens, what I want accomplished will happen too.”

The statement, Celia thought, had the same impressive effect as another made by Martin in his Cambridge lab the day of their first meeting. At that time, Sam had felt that effect too. But the earlier statement, made more than two years ago, had not been fulfilled. Why, she asked herself, should today's be different? Celia shook her head.”I don't know. I just don't know.”

"Dammit, I know mine is the right judgment!" Martin's voice rose.”We're close-so close-to finding a means to improve the quality of aging and retard brain deterioration, and maybe prevent Alzheimer's disease as well.”

He gulped what remained of the drink in his hand and slammed down the glass.”How in hell can I convince you?" "You can try again over dinner.”

Celia glanced at her watch.”I believe we should go now.”

The food at the Churchgate Hotel, while good, ran to large portions-too large for Celia. After a while she toyed with what remained on her plate, moving it around without eating, while she considered what to say next. Whatever it was would be important. Knowing it, she held back, hesitating, preparing her words carefully. Meanwhile the ambience was pleasant. More than six centuries before the Churchgate existed as a hotel, its site had been occupied by a chantry house-a priest's dwelling which, in Jacobean times, became a private home. Some portions of the Jacobean structure still remained in the charming hotel building, enlarged and refurbished when Harlow changed from a village to a town after World War IL The dining room was one of the historic holdovers. Celia liked the room's atmosphere-its low ceiling, upholstered window benches, white and red napery and pleasant service, including the placement of food at each table before diners were called in from an adjoining lounge-bar where earlier they had received menus and placed their orders. Tonight, Celia had one of the window benches. Martin sat facing her. Through the meal they continued the conversation begun at Martin's house, Celia listening, interjecting an occasional question, as Martin talked science confidently. But fresh in her memory were the words of Nigel Bentley, spoken yesterday.”Dr. Peat-Smith is a leader and, as with any leader, it would be a mistake for him to show weakness or exhibit doubts...” Did Martin, despite that persistent outward confidence, have an inward, private uncertainty? Celia considered a tactic to help her find out. It was an idea developed from the book she had read last night, after its delivery to the hotel-a promise fulfilled by Nigel Bentley. Having calculated and weighed her words, she looked at him directly and said, "An hour ago, when we were talking at the house, you said you had scientific arrogance.”

He riposted, "Don't misunderstand that. It's positive, not negative-a combination of knowledge, willingness to criticize one's own work, yet conviction also-something a successful scientist must have to 3urvive.”