Syndrome by Thomas Hoover (best ereader for pdf txt) đź“•
"You picked a funny time to call."
Is that all she has to say? Four and a half frigging years she shuts me out of her life, blaming me, and then...
"Well, Ally, I figured there's gotta be a statute of limitations on being accused of something I didn't do. So I decided to take a flier that maybe four years and change was in the ballpark."
"Grant, do you know what time it is? This is Sunday and--"
"Hey, this is the hour you do your Sunday run, right? If memory serves. So I thought I might drive down and keep you company."
He didn't want to let her know that he was already there. That would seem presumptuous and probably tick her off even more. But by God he had to get to her.
Again there was a long pause. Like she was trying to collect and marshal her anger.
"You want to come to see me? Now? That's a heck of a--"
"Look, there's something really important I need to talk to you about. It's actua
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And add to that, she didn’t actually know if he was free now or not or what But he’d said he had a good reason for calling-what could that be?
“Stone, I read your columns in the Sentinel. So I sort of feel like I’ve kept in contact. I can almost hear your voice sometimes.”
“That makes me think you were cheating a little on our deal.”
“Well,” she heard herself say, “some of them were pretty good. Sometimes you sounded like you knew as much as a doctor.”
“Don’t flatter me excessively, or I might want to start believing you.” He laughed. “But speaking of doctors, didn’t you used to have some kind of heart issue? How is that these days?”
“You really want to know?”
“Maybe it might have something to do with why I’m calling. Best I recall, you never actually told me, even back when.”
“Thank you for asking,” she said. “I guess it’s not much of a secret anymore, with me popping nitro every other day. I have a scarred valve, coronary stenosis, and it’s not getting any better. I don’t know what to do about it short of going to Lourdes for a miracle.”
“I see,” he said. Then he fell silent. Mercifully, he didn’t come up with false bravado about revolutionary treatments and you never can tell, blah, blah, blah. Then he said, “So is that why you’ve enrolled in the clinical trials at the Dorian Institute? To be part of their work using stem cells?”
What! “How the hell do you know about—”
“Hey, Ally, you know I can’t divulge my sources. After I knew you, I grew up to be a real reporter. That was my grand plan, remember?”
“Then this may turn out to be a very short conversation. I have nothing to—”
“Okay, okay, let’s start over.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Are you the Alexa Hampton who was formally entered about half an hour ago into the stage-three clinical trials for the National Institutes of Health being held by the Gerex Corporation? Or maybe I should play dumb and begin by asking if you’ve ever heard of them.”
“Stone, why… why are you asking me this?”
It was bizarre. How could he know? And wait a minute, what did he mean about enrolling? She hadn’t enrolled in anything.
“Ally, I’m finishing a major-I hope-book about stem cell technology, and right now the world leader is the Gerex Corporation. I think, but I can’t yet prove, that their Dorian Institute out in New Jersey is the site of some pretty incredible stuff. I was… fooling around on the Internet, on the NIH Web site, looking for information about them, and-it must have been some momentary computer glitch-someone with your name popped up for a second. Along with a Nina Hampton. Which made me suspect it was you.”
She was incredulous. She was being entered into the clinical trials before she had even seen the place? Somebody was pushing the pace. Winston Bartlett or Van de Vliet had taken it for granted that she and her mother would enter the trials. Worst of all, it took a former lover she hadn’t talked to in x-zillion years to give her this unnerving information.
“Nina is your mom, right?” he went on. “I still remember her fondly. I don’t think she thought much of me, however. By the way, how is she?”
“She’s… she’s not doing all that great.” Ally was still trying to get her mind around what she’d just heard. “But why are you calling me, Stone?”
“If anything I’ve said rings a vague bell, then could we meet someplace and talk? I don’t think it would be a great idea to do it over the phone. That’s all I really can say now.”
Maybe, she thought, Stone Aimes might have uncovered a few things of which she ought to be aware. His pieces in the Sentinel showed he was a damned good reporter.
“I don’t think what little I know about Gerex would be any help to you.” She was attempting to get her mind back together. “I actually have a lot of questions about the stem cell procedure myself. I spoke on the phone just now with Dr. Van de Vliet and he described their technology to me in general terms. But maybe I should interview you. Maybe you could explain it to me using that wonderful gift you have for simplification in your columns.”
“Ally, I don’t know anything except what’s in the public domain. They’re privately held, so they don’t have to tell anybody zilch. I assume you’ve actually been out to the Dorian Institute, which is more than I can say.”
“Never.”
“But you’re enrolled—”
“I’m not enrolled in anything.” To say the least. “And it bothers me that anybody thinks so. But I am thinking about taking Mom out there tomorrow, if she still wants to go. When I talked to him on the phone, Dr. Van de Vliet wanted me to start the procedure immediately. That’s scary, but he does seem to know what he’s doing.”
“I take it, then, that you’re leaning toward going through with it.”
She hated the way he’d just made her sound so gullible.
“The truth is, I’m more concerned for Mom. He claims he can help her early-onset Alzheimer’s, and that would mean a lot.” Why was she telling him all this stuff? She found herself wondering if he’d ever married.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. But the chances are he can.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked finally. “And why did you call me? Really? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet. There’s a lot I don’t know.” He seemed to hesitate. “Ally, is there any chance whatsoever that-while you’re out there-you could get me the names of some of the people who’ve been through the clinical trials? The Dorian Institute is entirely off-limits to the press. I tried several times to schedule an interview with Karl Van de Vliet, the guy you talked to, but no luck. I can’t get past the corporate people. My only hope is to try and find some patients who’ve been treated and released who’ve completed the clinical trials. But Gerex has been ruthless about keeping their identities secret You are literally the first person I’ve found who has any connection with the institute and is willing to talk about it. That is, if you’re willing.”
“Stone, it would be like the blind leading the blind. I don’t know the first thing about the place.”
“Well, let me ask you this-when you were talking with him, did Van de Vliet happen to mention any occasion where a subject had been terminated from the trials?”
“It never came up. Why do you-?”
“Never mind. But when and if you go out there, you might inquire about that.” He paused. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m actually Gerex’s biggest fan. I mean, considering merely what you told me, that they’re claiming to have a procedure that treats early-onset Alzheimer’s. Think about it. I’m rooting for your mom, sure, but that’s a Nobel Prize in itself, right there. We’re talking major medical history in the making.”
“And?”
“And I want to publish the first book about it.” He paused. “Also, a little birdie tells me that something not entirely kosher may be going on out there. No proof, just a reporter’s hunch. There’s a little too much sudden secrecy.”
Ally was having a strange feeling come over her. She was actually enjoying talking to him.
“Shit, Stone, I’m glad you called. I lost two men I loved very much since I knew you and I’m feeling very alone at the moment. I could use some moral support I’ve got a lot of people bugging me to enter those clinical trials. Even people I’d never met before, like Winston Bartlett, the New York big shot. He’s suddenly very concerned about my health. I have no idea what that’s about. But it makes me uneasy.”
There was an awkward lull, then, “Ally, all I’m asking is that you just take the measure of the Dorian Institute when you’re out there and tell me what you think about the place. Are they performing the miracles they announced as their objective?”
“Look, I’ll help you when and if I actually can. So give me your number, okay?”
He did.
“I can tell when I’m being blown off,” he went on. “I have a very sensitive blow-off detector. But why don’t you try a test? When you’re out at the institute, ask Van de Vliet or somebody why that mystery patient was terminated from the clinical trials. See if the question makes them uncomfortable.”
“Why does that matter so much to you?”
“If a patient is dropped for no good reason about the same time they clamp down on information, I think it could be fishy. Beyond that, I cannot speculate. And while you’re at it, I’d love the names of some other ex-patients. Anybody. I found a list on the NIH Web site but they’re all encoded, so it doesn’t do me any good. I just want to ask them if the procedure worked or not. It’s information that’s going to be made public eventually, no matter what. Come on, Ally, don’t you want some testimonials?”
“Okay, look, I’ll try to see if anybody there will give me any info.”
She was realizing she was in a comfort zone when she was talking to him. Still, so much about him remained a mystery. He had always said his mother and father were both dead, but it was still suspiciously hard to get him to speak about them. She’d gotten the impression that he didn’t actually remember his father. That was the part of his life that he’d always been the most closed off about. Either that or he was repressing some horrible memories.
“Thanks a lot, Ally.” A pause, then, “Interested in getting together sometime?”
“Let me think about it.”
She put down the phone with her mind in turmoil. She realized she hadn’t asked him if he was “attached” but the next time they spoke, she was going to try to ease it into the conversation.
Tuesday, April 7
9:50 A.M.
Ally steered her Toyota onto the ramp leading to the George Washington Bridge, the entryway to northern New Jersey. She was just finishing a phone call to Jennifer. She wanted her to take a look at the notes and blueprints for Bartlett’s Gramercy Park project and scan them into their CAD program. After all the phone calls yesterday, she’d been too sidetracked to do it. Although Bartlett had declared he wasn’t in any hurry, he had messengered a certified check to her office Monday afternoon. The project was a go. She wanted to get moving while everything was fresh in her mind.
Before leaving her apartment this morning, she’d downloaded a map from MapQuest and from it she had estimated that the drive up to the Dorian Institute would be approximately an hour-give or take. She had begun the trip early because her mother’s mind had been lucid the previous evening and she was hoping that interlude might last into this morning.
Unfortunately, it had not.
Nina was sitting next to her now, in full makeup but completely unresponsive, seemingly in another world. When Ally arrived at the Riverside Drive apartment to pick her up, Maria-now silent and uneasy in the backseat, reading a Spanish novel-met her at the door with a troubled look and shook her head sadly.
“Miss Hampton, I know she was all right when you were here last night, but this morning… she may not recognize you. She’ll most likely snap out of it and be okay later on, but right now she’s just in a fog. It was all I could do to get her ready.”
When Ally walked in,
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