Miracle Cure (1991) Page 19

  They moved so quickly that he could not make complete sense of them , like trying to read a license plate as a car speeds by you.

  He tried to slow them down, but it was impossible. He caught jus t g limpses. In the end, one word became clear, blocking out all others: Sara.

  Funny, but Michael was not afraid of dying. Leaving Sara frightened hi m m ore. Alone. With the baby. The future meant something to him now. He h ad a stake in it, responsibilities. He wanted to stay with Sara, wit h t he baby. So why did this happen now? Why show him what could be only t o t ake it away?

  Enough self-pity, Michael. You're making me sick.

  He thought about the press conference he would have to give tonight o n n ewsflash and wondered what he was going to say.

  He could just imagine the questions the reporters were going to hurl a t h im gleefully: "Have you always been gay?..."

  "Did your wife know?..."

  "How about your teammates?..."

  "How many boyfriends have you had?..."

  And oh God, Sara, what am I doing to you? he asked himself.

  All I ever wanted to do was protect you. Now, I'm throwing you in th e m iddle of this. I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could just ignore it , blind myself from the truth. But I can't. Why should you have to suffe r a nymore? Part of me wants to push you away, to shield you from goin g t hrough this whole AIDS shit with me.

  But Michael knew he could never. Sara would never allow it. And he kne w t hat if the roles had been reversed, there would be no way Sara coul d h ave persuaded him to let her go. None.

  She would want to be there, and selfish as it might be, he wanted he r t here. He knew he would never make it without her.

  He just wished he wasn't so goddamn scared.

  "Michael?"

  He turned. Sara stood in the doorway. She was so beautiful, so goddam n a chingly beautiful ... He felt tears come to his eyes, but he force d t hem back down again.

  "I love you," he said.

  She limped to the window and hugged him tightly.

  He closed his eyes and held on.

  "We're going to beat this thing, aren't we?"

  She pulled back and looked up at him. A smile flirted with her lips.

  "We're going to whip its ass," she said staunchly.

  She embraced him again, trying so very hard to believe her own words.

  The next morning Lieutenant Bernstein found Dr. Harvey Riker in the lab , checking through his private files.

  "Anything missing?" the lieutenant asked.

  Harvey shook his head.

  "But someone went through them.

  A couple of them are out of order."

  "Michael's?"

  "Yes. Have you heard from the coroner yet?"

  Bernstein nodded. The fingers of his right hand busily twisted a pape r c lip into shapes it was never intended to achieve.

  "There were traces of cyanide. Someone injected it into his right arm."

  "So it was murder."

  "Looks like."

  Harvey let go a long breath.

  "Did you speak with Kiel Davis yet ?"

  "Yes. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. He knows nothing."

  As Harvey was about to respond, Winston O'Connor stepped through th e d oorway.

  "Good morning, Harvey."

  "Hi, Winston. Win, I want you to meet Lieutenant Bernstein."

  Winston O'Connor stuck out his hand.

  "Pleasure, sir. Ain't you kinda young to be a lieutenant?"

  Bernstein ignored the common question and busied himself studying th e m an. Fortyish, thick Southern accent, blond-turning to-grey hair , average height, open smile.

  "You're the chief lab technician?"

  "That's right," Winston twanged.

  "What brings you all around these parts, Lieutenant?"

  "Someone broke into this lab last night," Bernstein said, purposely no t s aying anything about Martino yet.

  "You're kidding! A break-in here? What did they take ?"

  "Nothing," Max replied.

  "Dr. Riker walked in on them."

  "You all right, Harv?"

  "Fine."

  "Where were you last night at around three in the morning?" Max asked.

  Winston's face registered surprise.

  "Am I a suspect?"

  "No one is a suspect. I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

  "I was home all night."

  "You live alone?"

  "Yes."

  "Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?"

  "Why the hell would I need anyone to vouch for me?"

  "Please just answer the question."

  "No. I don't make a point of having witnesses watch me when I'm in m y o wn home."

  "What time did you leave here last night?"

  "Around midnight."

  "Were you the last one to leave the lab?" "No," Winston said, his voic e a n octave higher.

  "Eric Blake was still here."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes. I just locked up some of the experiments, same as I do ever y n ight, and left him in here." Winston glared at the police detective , but Bernstein diverted his gaze, never allowing the man to look him i n t he eye.

  "Can I go down the hall now to get a cup of coffee, Lieutenant, or d o y ou need my mama's maiden name first?"

  "Go."

  Winston spun and left.

  "Kind of touchy," Bernstein remarked.

  "But a good man," Harvey added, "hard worker."

  "How long have you known him?"

  "Fifteen years."

  "How long has he lived in New York?"

  "I don't know. Almost twenty years."

  Max stroked his chin.

  "Interesting."

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I have a few more questions for you, if you don't mind."

  "Ask away."

  Bernstein's pacing commenced. He never looked in Harvey's direction a s h e spoke.

  "How many confidential patients do you treat?"

  "They are all confidential, Lieutenant."

  "Okay, but how many are 'very' confidential, kept away from the rest o f t he patients behind that door down the hall with no window on it?"

  "Right now, just Michael. I came up with the idea of the secluded roo m w hen we first started treating Bradley Jenkins."

  "How did you meet Jenkins?"

  Harvey went back to sorting his files.

  "Through his father."

  "And how did you meet his father?"

  "He came to see me one day. Said he wanted to know more about what w e w ere doing. I was wary, of course. Senator Stephen Jenkins is hardly on e w ho normally sides with our cause.

  After a while he said he had heard rumors that we could cure AIDS. I d enied it, telling him our success had been miniscule at best. But h e w as adamant. That's when he told me about his son." "He admitted to yo u t hat Bradley had AIDS?"

  "Yes, He was desperate, Lieutenant. He may be a bit of a fanatic, bu t h is boy was sick and dying. He promised me he'd help the clini c d iscreetly if I took Bradley in."

  "So you did."

  He nodded and then realized that the lieutenant was not facing him.

  "I didn't really believe he'd help. I was more hoping he wouldn't hurt."

  "Jenkins took a hell of a risk trusting you."

  "What choice did he have? He wanted to save his son's life.

  We worked out extra security measures like we used with Michael hidde n e ntrances from the basement and all that."

  "Besides yourself, who knows the names of the patients in here?"

  "That's the weird part. Practically nobody. Bruce knew. Eric knows man y o f the names, not all. And ..." He stopped.

  "Who else?" Max asked again.

  "Dr. Raymond Markey."

  "Who's he?"

  "An Assistant Secretary of Health and Human Services. We report to hi m d irectly."

  "Do you trust him?"

  "Not much. He's always been m
ore of a politician than a doctor."

  "But he knew Bradley Jenkins was in here?"

  "No. We hid it from him."

  "How did you manage that?"

  "I lied."

  "How?"

  Harvey shrugged.

  "I just left Bradley's name off the patient list I sent Markey."

  "And this Markey guy never questioned it?"

  "No."

  "Does he know you've found a cure?"

  "Yes and no. We tell him just enough so he can't pull back the money."

  "And he just accepts your word?"

  Harvey half-chuckled.

  "Hardly. We always back up our claims with irrefutable evidence. A goo d r esearcher always guards against a charge of tampering with results.

  Just the accusation of falsifying data could bring down an entire clini c l ike ours. That's why I set up a system where at least two doctors wor k o n each case always at separate times. It prevents any hint o f w rongdoing."

  "I'm not sure I follow."

  "Take the blood work."

  "The blood work?"

  "The taking and handling of blood. If I did the original examination o n a patient, Bruce or Eric would do the testing during the latter stage s o f the treatment and vice-versa. Let me give you an example. I diagnose d t eddy Krutzer as having the AIDS virus three years ago. As a result , Bruce was the one who handled the blood work when we tested to see i f k rutzer had actually become HIV negative. Another example.

  Scott Trian, the first murder victim, was first diagnosed with AIDS b y b ruce Grey four years ago so "

  "So you or Eric ran the blood test to see if he had been cured or not."

  "Exactly. This way, we are able to head off anyone who might want t o s low us down by throwing out false accusations of tampering."

  Max shook his head.

  "This case just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

  "Not so weird," Harvey said.

  "Oh?"

  "I think it's pretty simple."

  "Then why don't you let me in on it?"

  Harvey stopped playing with the files and looked up.

  "Someone is trying to destroy this clinic. Someone has found out what w e h ave discovered here and wants to prevent us from showing the world.

  It's what I've suspected all along. It's why I set up all these interna l s afeguards."

  "But " "Look, Lieutenant, it's like I told Sara in the beginning. If I w anted to prove to you that I could cure AIDS, what would be the mos t c onvincing thing I could show you? Cured patients, right? Eliminate th e c ured patients and all I have is charts and graphs and tests and file s t hat don't add up to a thing. I'd have to start all over again.

  A vaccine could be delayed years." "Makes sense, I guess," Bernstei n s aid without breaking stride.

  "But let me ask you this. How many good test cases are still alive?"

  "Three."

  "Three cured patients left," Max repeated.

  "Well then, all three need protection. They should be moved to a s afehouse where no one will know where they are." "I agree," Harve y s aid.

  "Then I have a suggestion for you, Doctor, that you might not like. I w ant to put them in a real safehouse."

  "I don't understand."

  "If this conspiracy is as big as you suspect, then anyone could b e i nvolved in this plot. They've already gone to extreme lengths and the y p robably won't stop now. I think it safest if no one, not even you , knows where they are. The less everyone knows, the less that can sli p o ut. Or be forced out."

  "Do you really think "

  "Five men nave been murdered already," Bernstein interrupted.

  "But these patients have to be watched by a qualified doctor."

  "I have a doctor who has made a living keeping his mouth shut. You tel l h im what to do and he'll do it. If you need to see them yourself, I'l l t ake you to the safehouse. Blindfolded."

  Harvey nodded.

  "Okay, sounds reasonable. But I want your word that the patients won't b e touched without specific permission. If your doctor were to give the m t he wrong medication or take unnecessary tests "

  "He won't, you have my word. I'd also like to go through the medica l r ecords of the four victims."

  "Of course, Lieutenant, but let me ask you something."

  "Go ahead."

  "If this conspiracy is so powerful, how do I know you're not a part o f i t?"

  Bernstein stopped pacing, looked up, and twirled his hair around hi s m iddle finger.

  "Interesting question," he replied. And then he walked out the door.

  Jennifer Riker woke up on the couch. The contents of the packet wer e s cattered around her.

  "I'll look through it later, she thought. She showered, dressed, an d p oured herself a bowl of Triple-Bran, the latest in a series of fa d c ereals that were supposed to cure everything from cancer to lockjaw.

  It tasted like tree bark.

  Her sister Susan bought all those crazy health foods, coming home fro m t he supermarket exclaiming, "I just bought (fill in the blank), and m y f riend (fill in the blank) swears that this will make you feel on e h undred percent more (fill in the blank)."

  She sighed, carried the bowl back into the den, and sat on the couch.

  She glanced at the file she had read yesterday.

  Unbelievable. Harvey and Bruce had done it. Cured AIDS.

  Turned an HIV positive into an HIV negative. Historic.

  Jennifer picked up Scott Trian's file and fingered through the page s u ntil she arrived at the spot where she had left off. She scanned dow n t he page. There. The spot where Trian became HIV negative. She read on.

  Trian's condition progressed nicely now, though not without som e s etbacks. Bruce noted: There are times when Scott is made so weak from the injections of SRI t hat I fear for him. Harvey and I talked about it last night. We bot h a gree that we have to do something to lessen the side effects. Still , the alternative death from AIDS is far worse than what we are seeing i n t rian.

  The file held no more surprising revelations, just a few scattered note s a bout Trian's reaction to SRI. Bruce's last note read: DNA? A vs. B What did that mean? She shrugged, put down the file, and picked u p a nother. Whitherson, William. His file was very much like Trian's.

  Whitherson had also been transformed to HIV negative, but he had othe r p roblems: Bill's family is so damn un supportive His father won't speak to him , and his mother feels trapped between her husband and her son, afraid t o t alk to Bill because her husband would see it as some sort of betrayal.

  Horse's asses, both of them. The funny thing is Bill still loves the m l ike mad. He calls them all the time. I hear him pleading over the phon e i n a hushed, defeated voice.

  "But don't you understand? I'm dying." Still nothing.

  And the same last note: DNA? A vs. B. She read about Krutzer, Theodore, next. His pattern wa s v ery similar to the others with only a few noticeable differences: Unlike Whitherson's family, Teddy's seems positively unbelievable. Hi s f ather and mother have not only accepted their son's homosexuality, the y s eem to encourage it. His father invites Teddy's boyfriend to the hous e o n weekends. They go fishing together.

  And then further:

  Another cured patient. It's too good to be true. Krutzer's illness ha d n ever been acute, nothing worse than a bout with hepatitis and a fe w s kin rashes. And now he's cured. Harvey made a suggestion today which I t hink is valid. The conversation between Harvey, Eric, and me wen t s omething like this.

  Harvey: You do all the testing on Krutzer, Bruce. Don't let anyone els e b ut yourself touch this case. You do the tests in the lab yourself.

  Eric: Why?

  Harvey: Independent research. If different people handle differen t c ases, then one man cannot be accused of tampering with the results. I s uggest you try to bring in Markey on this one.

  Me: Okay, I'll give him a call. I doubt he'll be interested.

  Harvey: At least we can say we offered
him the opportunity.

  Eric: I'm not sure why we have to do this. We don't have time to pla y l ab technicians.

  Harvey: It's too important, Eric. We can't let there be any holes in ou r r esearch for our enemies to exploit.

  The rest of the files read similarly, each with its own unique twist s a nd turns. Nothing odd about that. What was odd, however, was that the y a ll ended with the same strange note: DNA? A vs. B. Jennifer was about to reach for the last file when sh e r emembered the small styrofoam containers. She glanced at them, stacke d o n the edge of the couch. Each one had a patient's name taped to th e o utside. She pried open the one that read "Trian, Scott."

  Inside were two small test tubes labeled A and B. What the ...?

  She pulled the small test tubes more like vials really out of the snu g h olders. Blood. They were blood samples. She examined the othe r s tyrofoam containers. All were the same. A patient's name taped to th e s tyrofoam outside, two test tubes labeled A and B both filled with bloo d o n the inside.

  What for?

  Then she noticed the small white envelope.

  It had fallen under the couch and only a corner of it was visible.

  Jennifer reached down and picked up the envelope. Plain white. No retur n a ddress, no markings. The kind of envelope you'd buy at a five and ten.

  Bruce had written "Susan" across the front in his familiar scrawl.

  Jennifer turned the envelope over.

  When she read what Bruce had written across the back seal, she felt he r s tomach drop into her feet. In small, plain block letters, it said:

  TO BE OPENED UPON MY DEATH.

  "Need some help?"

  Max Bernstein looked up at Sara.

  "Yeah, come on in. Where's Michael?"

  "Being treated," Sara replied.

  "Are those the patient files?"

  Max nodded, a fresh pencil in his mouth.

  "This sucker just gets weirder and weirder."

  Sara sat down, unsnapped her brace and rubbed her leg.

  "I'm listening."

  "Okay," Max began.

  "Here are the medical files for all the victims. Let's start with Trian.

  He was one of the first patients, admitted almost three years ago.

  Whitherson came in about the same time. Same with Martino, th e i ntravenous drug abuser."

  "And Bradley?"

  "That's just it. Bradley is the oddball out. He was in here less than a y ear. He was in the middle of treatment. He was doing well, but he ha d n ot yet turned HIV negative. It doesn't fit. Did Harvey fill you in o n o ur talk?"