The Proteus Cure (17 page)

Didn’t he get it?

“Bill, someone tried to
kill
me.”

“I know it seems that way, Sheila, but who would want to kill you? There has to be another explanation. I don’t know what happened but I just thank God, you’re okay.” He shook his head. “I almost passed out when you told me. I thought I was going to be sick.”

No lie there: she’d sensed genuine shock.

“You know, we’ve got lot of sickos out there and you’re an attractive woman. Someone could have followed you from Salem. Were you at the mall?”

She nodded.

“What if some nutcase spotted you getting into your car in the lot and got some crazy idea in his head. I bet the police find him.”

She so wanted to believe him. Needed to. Maybe he was right. There were other explanations.

But what about the connection between Kelly’s and Tanesha’s symptoms?

Yeah, he might be steering her away from investigating the cases to protect VecGen, but what if there was no big conspiracy? What if she was just having a freaking bad week?

She fought off the tears as long as she could but then broke down and crumbled in his arms.

Bill paced the monitoring room while he waited for Shen. Not easy to do in the tiny space. Two steps this way, then turn and two steps back. But he couldn’t sit still.

As soon as he’d ushered Sheila out he’d put in an urgent call to Shen to meet him here.

Someone tried to kill me last night
…

It could only be Shen. But what the hell was he up to? Acting on his own? What was he
thinking
?

And if he’d succeeded? Abra would have been crushed … inconsolable.

He’d tried to get Sheila to take the day off, but she’d refused. She said she needed to work. He understood that.

Bill heard the latch turn and then Shen appeared.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Yes, he wanted to see him. Also wanted to take a swing at him but knew that would be dangerous. No question who’d come out worse.

So he held his temper and steadied his voice. “Shut the door behind you, please.”

When Shen complied, Bill stepped closer and got in his face. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.

“Are you out of your mind, Shen? What were you thinking?”

The man’s dark eyes showed confusion. “This one does not understand, sir.”

“Sheila—Doctor Takamura. It was you who ran her off the road last night, wasn’t it? You tried to kill her.”

“Try, sir?” She is alive?”

“Yes she’s alive. Marched into my office bruised but safe and sound. No thanks to you.”

Shen lowered his head. “I am ashamed that I failed in my mission, but I—”

“Your
mission?
Where in heaven and earth did you get the idea that you were supposed to do that?”

Shen looked back up at him. “Why, from you, sir.”

“Me? When? I never told you—”

“In your car. You tell this one that Doctor Sheila ‘got to be stopped.’ Those your exact words, sir.”

Dear God. But he’d never meant … never dreamed that Shen would take it the way he had.

“Shen, I didn’t mean
stop
in the sense of her life. I meant stop her nosing around where she shouldn’t. That was to be my problem, not yours.”

Shen dropped into one of the chairs and covered his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Shen kept his head down. His voice shook. “I am glad I failed, sir. I did not wish to kill her.”

Seeing emotion leaking from this man’s impenetrable façade shocked Bill.

Shen looked up, his expression unsure. “She is a good woman.”

Sheila was indeed a good woman.

“She’s not out of the woods. This isn’t a reprieve. More like probation. She’s under watch.”

“This one is most sorry, sir.”

“I know you meant well, but … what’s done is done. We’re both glad she’s still alive and I want you to take over monitoring her here. Are we clear on that? Monitoring, that’s all.”

“Yessir. She will not be harmed.”

“I’m not saying it will never come down to that, but only if there’s no other way.”

Sheila’s stomach plummeted when she walked into the examining room and found Tanesha sitting on the table and dabbing at her teary eyes with the corner of her paper cape.

“I hope you got good news for me, doc.” She frowned. “And what happen your face?”

Oh, the scratches from the underbrush. She’d forgotten about them.

Sheila forced a smile. “Chased my hat into a pricker bush.” She patted her arm. “Give me a moment to check the reports.”

All show, of course. She sensed a new fragility in Tanesha. She needed a way to give her the bad news—or rather, the non-news—without sending her into a tailspin.

“Well?”

Sheila looked up to find Tanesha staring at her. The hope in her tear-reddened eyes tore at her.

Okay, she thought, translating Hal Silberman’s dermatopathology into RealPeoplese. Here goes.

“We’ve determined that some of your cells—many of your cells—have cut back their production of melanin.”

“What’s melanin?”

“The pigment that darkens your skin.”

Tanesha snorted. “Shit! I coulda told you that! Tell me something I
don’t
know. Like
why
they cut back and
what
we do about it.”

“We don’t know why, Tanesha. Not yet.”

She sobbed and covered her face with her hands. “You promised!”

“I’m not through yet. We’ve only just begun to fight.”

“What you mean ‘we’? I don’t see your skin changin’ color. And hell with that ‘
begun
to fight’ shit. I need help
now!
”

“Tanesha, you have to realize that you’ve got a unique, complex problem that can’t be solved in a week.”

“So all these tests was a waste of time—that what you tellin’ me?”

“Not at all. We know a lot of things that it’s not.”

“What good is that?”

“Look. You know who Thomas Edison is, right?”

Tanesha made a face. “Course I do. You think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not. When he was trying to invent the light bulb he tried a thousand different filaments and every one burned out. So when a reporter asked him if he was discouraged, he said, ‘Of course not. I now know a thousand things that won’t work.’ ”

“Girl, what’s that got to do with me? I ain’t no light bulb! And a light bulb ain’t got a kid that don’t want to be seen with her!”

Her face screwed up and she started to cry again. Her sobs, and the realization of what this poor woman must be going through, broke Sheila’s heart.

She rose and laid an arm across Tanesha’s quaking shoulders.

“We’ll beat this, Tanesha, but this sort of investigation takes time. The pathologist is running more tests on your hair follicles, and since this may be some rare genetic fluke, I’m going to arrange some DNA testing.”

Tanesha wiped her eyes and looked at her. “What that gonna show?”

Sheila smiled. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need to run the tests, would I?”

“Guess not.”

“But it’s going to require more skin biopsies. You up for that?”

“Anything, doc. Just tell me when and where.”

“Great. I’ll make the arrangements and give you a call.”

“Don’t be too long. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I’ll make it my first priority.”

Right along with her other first priorities: Coog’s tests, a sit-down with Bill, seeing outpatients, and monitoring in-house chemo.

“I think it’s gonna turn out to be that treatment I had. You know, the VG thing. I think it changed me inside.”

Sheila stared, startled. This was the second time Tanesha had brought this up. Bill had warned that she might latch onto VG723 as a cause and go after Tethys and VecGen. Paul had asked her the same thing yesterday.

Coog’s KB26 had been a stem-cell-based therapy, just like Tanesha’s VG723. What if there was a connection?

Could it be …?

She’d better check out some specs on VecGen and VG723. Maybe she could ask them if they’d seen anything like this before.

Till then, she’d have to do what Bill said.

“I’m sorry, Tanesha. It’s highly unlikely that your treatment caused this problem. But we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

Tanesha tried to smile as Sheila left the examining room. Sheila tried too. Poor woman.

As Tanesha walked toward her beat up, paint-chipped ’95 Dodge Neon, she promised herself she was going to make it to the car before she started blubbering. Damn if she wasn’t feeling like swallowing some killer pills right now. She looked down at her ugly honkey hands and her eyes filled up. Her stocky legs shuffled along fast as they’d go. She just knew she could make it the few more feet to the car.

“Miss Green!” a man shouted.

Tanesha turned around to see a good-looking, dark-haired guy. He was hurrying toward her, his coat blowing around.

“Miss Green, could I have a word with you?”

She stopped and he caught up with her.

“Who you?”

He smiled. “Thank you for stopping.” He put his hand out. “I’m Doctor Gilchrist. I head up Tethys. Doctor Takamura said you’d been in a couple of times and I’d like to talk to you for few minutes if you don’t mind.”

She shook his hand. Strong handshake.

“I don’t mind.”

And she didn’t. If he headed up Tethys, then maybe he’d have some answers.

“Good. Would you like to go out for a coffee or something?”

That got her hackles up. Why not right here, unless it was bad news? She sure as shit wasn’t driving all the way to Starbucks and putting up with the stares to hear no death sentence.

“Start talkin’. I’m listenin’.”

She folded her arms. She’d read once that in body language that meant
Don’t bullshit me. I don’t trust you
.

“All right then. Well, I just want to let you know that Tethys will find the answer to what’s happened to you. It may take a while but we will find it. You have my word.”

“Doctor Takamura already told me that. You got something new?”

“No, but, well, I just think if you look at this from the right perspective and—”

“And what perspective is that, mister?”

Her arms were folded tight now, which wasn’t easy with this big belly.

The doc looked a little less cocksure now.

“The perspective that …” He cleared his throat. “That you’re alive. Sure your skin has changed but you’re still you underneath. Your skin is healthy and uniform. It’s not like you’re covered with tumors or ulcers or burns. It could be a lot worse, you know.”

Tanesha glared at him, getting madder by the second, but he just kept talking.

“And your cancer is gone. Forever. You’re cured. And you’ll live a long life and be around to raise your son—”

“That’s it! No one says nothin’ ’bout my son, you no good snake honkey bastard!” She reached out and grabbed him by the arm, digging her too-pale fingers into his wrist. “You know what? Lookin’ like I do, I don’t
want
to live a long life. I want to curl up and just die right here and now. It could be worse, my ass! You try facing your kid when he don’t want nothin’ to do with you.”

She could see by the look in his eyes he was done talking so she let go.

“That what you wanted to tell me? You come runnin’ after me to tell me I should be happy? Tell you what, I give you till my appointment next week to get some answers or I’m callin’ Doctor Phil,
The View
, and Oprah. We’ll see what
they
think of your damn
perspective
.”

She turned around and walked. Didn’t look back, just opened her car door, started it up after a few tries, and took off.

Snake bastard.

Bill had said he could meet with her, but it would have to be in his office—a working lunch of sorts. He said he was waiting for a fax that required an immediate response.

Sheila played waitress. Why not? She’d asked for the meeting. She brought a tray from the caf: turkey club for Bill, vegetable lasagna for her.

She was stiff from the accident and muscles she’d only seen in textbooks were killing her. Carrying the tray was no easy feat, but this would be the first lunch they’d ever eaten in private. She noticed how he closed the door behind her as she brought in the tray. She hoped this wouldn’t be awkward.

The desk would serve as a barrier of sorts. Lately he’d made her uneasy. He used to be the center of her fantasies, but lately they were starting to flow elsewhere. To the man Bill had described as “blue collar.” Last night, when she’d been scared and lonely, she’d found herself wishing Paul were there, not Bill.

“Now,” Bill said around a bite from his sandwich, “what’s on your mind?”

Besides the fact that every muscle in my body feels like it went through a meat grinder and my life is in danger? Had he forgotten everything?

At least he seemed to have recovered from yesterday’s phone snit over the mysterious Proteus and was the same old even-tempered, mild-mannered Bill she knew.

“I went to look up someone’s record, a patient who received KB-twenty-six, and his past record came up blank.”

Bill held up a finger. “Let me guess: He was here more than five years ago.”

“How did you know?”

“That’s when we had a system crash.” He waved his hand. “A host of records sailed into the ether.”

“Everything?”

“No. We had almost everything backed up. Almost, but not all. We won’t make that mistake again. Who was the patient?”

“Coogan Rosko.”

“Oh, the boy who was hit in the parking lot.”

Sheila was surprised that Bill would remember.

“Right. Well, I treated him in the ER and got curious about KB-twenty-six since I don’t know much about it. Can’t seem to find any information on that either.”

“Why would you want to? It’s dead and gone.”

“But it was a stem-cell-based therapy like seven-twenty-three, right?”

Bill nodded. “It was sporadically successful, but not enough to continue in trial. The Rosko boy was lucky.”

“I’d still like to learn some details.” She saw his lips pursing for a
Why?
so she hurried on before he could voice it. “Who supplied it?”