Doctors (87 page)

“I know, I know,” said the old man genially, “Paul and I already discussed it at great length by telephone.” He then waited a split second and continued, “My own conference was an hour ago.”

“What?”

“Yes. And please do tell your courageous friend Marshall that I was able to gather quite a high-powered press group and broke the news at noon Helsinki time. Which, as you may know, is only 5
A.M.
in Washington. According to my secretary’s memo, not only were the wire services present, but
The New York Times
and even Tass and the New China News Service sent their own correspondents.”

“That’s amazing—I still can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Laura responded with excitement. “But how did you ever manage to get all those people together in so short a time?”

“Miss—I am sorry, I don’t know your name—”

“Laura Castellano, sir. Dr. Castellano, actually.”

“Well, Doctor, you must be very new to the world of media medicine. Don’t you know the one magic word that can attract every journalist on earth?”

“Free booze?” she joked weakly.

“No, my dear lady,
cancer.
It’s the most potent drawing card on the entire planet.”

For a moment Laura was taken aback by this unexpected cynicism. Marshall’s description had led her to imagine the Finn as some sort of avuncular Santa Claus in a white lab coat. But she was learning. Learning fast.

“Uh, sir, does Dr. Rhodes know about this?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I have been absolutely collegial and aboveboard. I called him at his home. I was sorry to have to wake him, but I think he was grateful to be told of my intentions. But then it was barely dawn in Washington and what else could he do but go along with it? Anyway, please give your gallant young man an affectionate embrace on my behalf.
Hyvästi.
”

At four that afternoon, over a hundred of the more distinguished Fellows—augmented by a huge platoon of reporters and photographers—crowded into the main reception room of the Institutes to hear their senior director—elegantly dressed in his pinstripe “public appearance suit”—proclaim (in this case re-echo) to the world the thaumaturgic properties of the Rhodes-Karvonen factor. All present then drank to the health of the two scientists—and to their global patient, Suffering Mankind.

His confidence bolstered by the excellent champagne, Marshall bounded up to the podium, kissed and congratulated Mrs. Rhodes, and then heartily shook his mentor’s hand.

“This is a great day, Paul,” he enthused, adding (without, he hoped, any perceptible irony), “for all of us.”

“Thank you, Marshall,” Rhodes replied cheerfully. And then said under his breath, “Could you possibly drop by my office at six o’clock?”

“Sure thing,” Marshall responded cheerily and went off to look for Laura.

He found her surrounded by a group of reporters, all seeking her opinion on the new discovery. My God, he thought buoyantly, it sure is risky inviting Laura to a press conference for
anything.

*    *    *

Rhodes was already waiting for him, leaning against the front of his mahogany desk. Marshall entered and took his usual seat.

The director merely stood in silence, glaring at him as if he were a butterfly fixed by a pin.

At last he spoke. One syllable.

“Why?”

“I don’t understand, Paul—”

“Cut the crap, Jaffe. You had to be the one who told him. There was only one set of proofs and they were on my desk the other night. Incidentally, does Toivo have you on his payroll?”

Marshall did not dignify the insinuation with a reply.

Rhodes shook his head incredulously. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine why an overambitious sonovabitch like you would have done what you did.”

“To tell the truth, I’m not really sure myself,” Marshall confessed. “Call it an aberration—a kind of spasm of integrity. I mean, I’ve worked on this project and I know how much Toivo’s contributed.”

Rhodes now affected a look of pained sympathy.

“I can’t believe a fellow with your smarts wouldn’t know how to play the game. When I was doing post-doc work at Tech my bosses published both my projects without even mentioning my name. It’s like the wages of apprenticeship.”

“Come on, Paul, you can hardly call Karvonen an apprentice. And he clearly has more scruples. Sorry if I’ve let you down by doing what was right. May I go now?”

“When I tell you, Jaffe,” the director answered sharply. “I just don’t want you to leave thinking you’ve accomplished something noble. Obviously, the article will be published with the names of all your bosom buddies in Helsinki.” He then paused to savor his revelation: “I just thought you’d like to know that I’ve already got the patents.”

“What?”

“Honor’s only part of it, my boy. You can’t just retire and rest on your laurels. It’s much more comfortable to rest on your royalties. And let me tell you—my phone’s been ringing off the hook just in the last three hours. Every major drug concern from Switzerland to Japan and back has already offered me deals that would turn those curly hairs of yours into electric wires.”

Marshall shrugged his shoulders. Shit, he thought, Karvonen got screwed anyway. So much for my altruism. He looked at Rhodes.

“
Now
may I be excused, Herr Direktor?”

“Excused? My dear Marshall, by tomorrow you will be
expunged.
Go clear your office—that is, of items that belong to you. I’ve asked Captain Stevens of Security to help you separate what’s yours and what’s Uncle Sam’s. Because as of midnight, they won’t even let you through the gate as a tourist. Goodnight.”

It was only when he had turned to go that Marshall realized how hard he had been hit.

But there was more to come.

“Jaffe, I want to say that I’m sincerely sorry for your wife. You should have thought of—”

“Can it, Paul. Claire doesn’t need your pity. She may have lost her health, but she still has her principles. So on behalf of all my family, I’d like to tell you to go straight to hell.”

“And on behalf of Dr. Castellano, too, may I assume?”

Marshall was furious.

“Laura had nothing to do with this, Paul. You wouldn’t punish her—?”

“Wouldn’t I? By sheer coincidence I’ve discovered that she called in sick this morning. Since she looks more radiant than ever this evening, I think I can safely assume she was an accomplice in this treason. Unfortunately, at the moment she seems to be to this institution exactly what the Silver Lady is to a Rolls Royce. But be assured, I’ll manage it.”

Laura was waiting for him in the now-empty reception room. They sat side by side and spoke amid the clatter of the cleaning staff. She touched his shoulder gently.

“I know how you feel, Marsh, and I feel guilty for encouraging you to tell Toivo. I never believed Rhodes would go that far. But I swear you’ll land on your feet.”

“Thanks, kid,” he said with a sad smile. “You wanna come help fill some boxes?”

She nodded and they set off for his office.

Captain Clyde Stevens, B.S., Howard, ’62, sat calmly smoking as he watched the two of them ransack Marshall’s office of everything that did not have to be rendered unto Caesar.

Every so often Marshall would shake a paper in front of his eyes. “This is a record of my tennis games against the Senior and Junior Fellows—and the cash I’ve won. Does this constitute top secrecy, sir?”

The captain, genuinely sad to see the young scientist depart,
was baffled—and resented having been burdened with this unpleasant task. “Hell, Dr. Jaffe,” he complained, “don’t play around with me like this. I couldn’t care less if you took all the toilet paper from the bathrooms.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Laura, trying to relieve the tension with a little humor.

“Oh, no,” said Marshall broadly, “we’d deprive the good Dr. Rhodes of the material he uses for his articles.”

Captain Stevens did his best to suppress a smile.

When Marshall picked up his Rolodex, he thought for a moment of asking the Security officer to remove the phone numbers he thought should be classified. But then another notion struck him.

“Hey, Laura,” he said, “this is my last chance to make a free call on the government’s penny. I might as well prepare Karvonen for the shock.”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

He turned to Stevens and explained, “Captain, my word of honor. This call is official business.”

The officer signaled his permission.

It was still very early morning in Helsinki, so Marshall had to wake up Karvonen at his home.

“Marshall, I assure you,” the Finn jovially protested, “I was wide awake. I’m in my study now doing some calculations. I assume you’re calling to report you’re fired. But I hope you know you’re more than welcome at my Institute.”

Marshall shuddered. “I’m afraid I’ve got some really bad news, Toivo—Rhodes already filed for the patents three months ago. I guess we underestimated him.”

Karvonen let out a burst of laughter.

“Toivo, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, my boy, I’m fine,” he answered heartily. “
I
registered the patent
six
months ago. It takes a while, so Rhodes will not have heard that he’s been beaten to it.”

Marshall was struck dumb. And then he slowly began to boil.

“Toivo,” he said, trying to rein his anger, “are you telling me that
you’d
already screwed Rhodes by the time I risked my neck to warn you that he was trying to screw you?”

“I am, my dear friend Marshall. But that does not make me any less grateful for the sacrifice you’ve made. Now at least you know the way the world spins. Dog eat dog. And scientist knife scientist. Please stay in touch.
Hyvästi.
”

*    *    *

It was a totally new experience for Laura.

Though it was a time of grieving, she had a curious sense of fulfillment by being able to share with Marshall his misfortune. She held him in her arms all night.

The next morning they woke early, had coffee, and then separated—she to the lab and he to his family.

After the friendly guard waved her through the gate, Laura parked and started walking across the campus. She glanced at Marshall’s window. Even from a distance it looked empty, bare.

She spent an hour in the Neonatal ICU, which mercifully today contained just three sick preemies—whose aggregate weight was probably less than seven pounds, but who were being sustained by what seemed like seven
tons
of electronic machinery. She sometimes wondered if the babies did not feel overwhelmed by it all—as she was.

Back in the lab, she was unable to think of anything but Marshall.

The phone rang. It was Rhodes’s personal secretary. Would it be convenient for Dr. Castellano to stop by at, say, four that afternoon?

Curiously, she was not upset. She convinced herself that it was probably some administrative matter like the pending renewal of her Fellowship.

She arrived three minutes early and the receptionist ushered her straight into the director’s office.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Castellano,” he said paternally. “Take a seat, will you?”

She could not help but notice that he had not called her Laura.

“I suppose you have some inkling of why I’ve asked you here, Dr. Castellano?”

“I assume it’s something to do with my reapplication,” she answered.

“In a way, yes.”

Rhodes rubbed his brow as a kind of demonstration of concern.

“Dr. Castellano, I don’t know how to tell you this. I mean, I’ve come—we’ve all come—to think of you as occupying a special place in our constellation.”

“Don’t beat around the bush,” she replied as calmly as possible. “Just tell me what I’ve done wrong.”

“ ‘Wrong’?” Rhodes replied, “I wouldn’t exactly use that
term. It’s just that—well—we can’t see ourselves renewing you for another three years.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing personal, of course. Just a case of too many qualified candidates.”

“Of course.”

“And as you know, it’s common practice to inform Junior Fellows in the spring of their last year, so they can make other arrangements—you know, seek a post elsewhere. I’m sure Dain Oliver will have some suggestions. And you can count on this office to back you to the hilt. Besides, you’ve still got till the end of July.…”

Laura was at a loss for words, her mind felt battered by a relentless drumming at her temples. She needed time—perhaps only half a minute—to get her emotions under control. For she was determined not to surrender without a pitched battle.

Meanwhile, Rhodes wanted to twist the knife a little further.

“I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this. We all like you very much. We’ll miss you at parties.”

By now she had pulled herself together sufficiently to be able to fight back.

“Paul, you’ve got no right to make this decision unilaterally. And I’m positive you haven’t even spoken to Dain or anyone else in the field. I’m going to appeal this to the Board and I’m willing to bet they’ll overrule you.”

There was a sudden silence—which Laura interpreted as a point in her favor. Paul rose slowly.

“Dr. Castellano, let’s lay all our cards on the table,” he said in a tone like the slash of a stiletto. “You and I know what this is really about. Why don’t we discuss the real issue?”

“Fine. A little straightforward truth would be refreshing.”

The director looked at her and grinned. “You like Marshall Jaffe, don’t you? I’d go so far as to say you like him a great deal. Am I correct?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Of course you don’t. You really care for him—and you wouldn’t want to jeopardize his career, would you?”

“He’s one of the most brilliant microbiologists in America. I don’t have to worry about his career.”

“Oh,
yes
, you do, Dr. Castellano,” Rhodes responded condescendingly. “I don’t care how smart that treacherous little weasel is, I still outrank him in the scientific community and I can close every door—and I mean
every
door—in this country. If
I wanted, I could see to it that he couldn’t even get a job teaching junior high school biology in Harlem.”