Strong Medicine (59 page)

In a remarkably short time six rabbits had been injected with the oily

solution--one injection going into each toe pad. Though distracted by the

closeness of those breasts, and though at moments Martin found himself

wishing his own head were there instead of a rabbit's, he worked carefully

and in unison with Yvonne.

The animals were clearly soothed by her loving care, but there was some

suffer-ing, and after a while she asked, "Does it have to be the toe pads?"

Martin grimaced. "I don't like it either, but that's a good site for making

antibodies. Though the injection's painful, and it continues to irritate,

the irritation attracts antibody-producing cells."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Yvonne. When they had finished he said,

"You care about animals."

She looked at him in surprise. "Of course."

"Not everyone does."

"You mean Tilly?" A frown crossed Yvonne's face. "She doesn't even like

herself."

"Miss Tilwick doesn't work here anymore."

"I know. Mr. Bentley told me. He also said to tell you that my

qualifications are okay, and if you like me I can do the supervisor's

job.,,

"I like you," Martin said, then surprised himself by adding, "I like you

very much."

Yvonne giggled. "Goes both ways, Doctor."

Although, after their first encounter, others took over the animal

injections, Mar-tin continued to see Yvonne around the labs. Once,

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with his mind more on her than on the question, he asked, "If you love

animals so much, why didn't you go to veterinary college?"

She hesitated, then with unusual terseness said, "I wanted to."

"What happened?"

"I failed an exam."

"Just one?"

"Yes.,,

"Couldn't you take the exam again?"

"I couldn't afford the waiting time." She looked at him directly and he

had no choice but to move his eyes upward, meeting hers.

Yvonne continued, "My parents didn't have money to support me and I had

to start earning. So I became an animal technicianthe next best thing."

Then she smiled softly and he knew she was aware of where his eyes had

been lingering.

That was several weeks ago, and in between, Martin had become preoccupied

with other matters.

One was a computer analysis of continued tests in the rat maze; it showed

that the earlier performances were no fluke and had remained consistent

over intervening months. That alone was excellent news but, to top it,

there had been a successful refinement of the peptide mix, eventually

allowing isolation of a single active peptide. This-the much-sought-after

peptide-proved to be the seventh band on the original chromatogram films

and was immediately referred to as Peptide 7.

Both successes were reported by telex to New Jersey and a congratulatory

message came back promptly from Sam Hawthorne. Martin wished he could

have communicated also with Celia, but news of her resignation from

Felding-Roth had reached him a short time earlier. Though he had no idea

what prompted her departure, the fact of it saddened him. Celia had been

so much a part of the research project and the Harlow institute, it

seemed unfair she would not share in the fruits of what she helped to

begin. He knew, too, that he had lost a friend and an ally and wondered

if the two of them would ever meet again. It seemed unlikely.

Scientifically, only one factor troubled Martin as he lay in bed

reviewing these events. It concerned the older rats that had been

receiving regular peptide injections over several months.

While the rats' memories had improved, their general health had

apparently deteriorated. The animals had lost weight noticeably, becoming

lean, almost emaciated. After so much recent success, certain newer

possibilities were alarming.

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Could it be that Peptide 7, while beneficial to the mind, was harmful to

the body? Would the peptide-treated rats continue to suffer weight loss,

become enfeebled, and fade away? If so, Peptide 7 would be unusable, either

by animals or humans, and all the scientific work so far-four years of it

at Harlow, plus Martin's earlier labors at Cambridge-were tragically in

vain.

While the specter haunted Martin, he had tried to put it from his mind, at

least for a few hours over the weekend.

Now, on this Saturday night . . . No! It hadjust become Sunday morning . .

. he shifted his thoughts back to Yvonne, returning to the question he had

asked a short time earlier: So why haven't you done something?

He could telephone her, he supposed, and wished he had considered it

sooner. It was too late now. Or was it? Hell! "y not?

To his surprise, the call was answered on the first ring.

"Hello."

"Yvonne?"

"Yes."

"This is

"I know who it is."

"Well," he said, "I was lying here, couldn't sleep, and just thought . . ."

"I couldn't sleep either."

"I wondered if we might meet tomorrow."

She pointed out, "Tomorrow's Monday."

"So it is. Then how about today?"

"All right."

"What time would be best?"

"Why not now?"

He could hardly believe his good luck as he asked, "Shall I drive over to

get you?"

"I know where you live. I'll come to you."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

He felt he had to say something else.

"Yvonne."

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're coming."

"So am U' He heard her soft laugh. "I thought you'd never get around to

asking."

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15

In the words of a book title Martin recalled, it was a night to remember.

Yvonne's arrival was at once delightful and uncomplicated. After she and

Martin kissed warmly, and she had petted the several animals surrounding

them in the hallway, she asked, "Where's your bedroom?"

"I'll show you," he said, and she followed him upstairs, bringing with her

a small overnight bag.

In the softly lighted bedroom, Yvonne quickly removed all her clothing,

revealing her nakedness while Martin watched, his pulse racing, admiring

what he saw--especially those marvelous breasts.

When she joined him in bed, they came to each other uninhibitedly,

joyously, lovingly. Martin sensed within Yvonne a guileless and generous

physical love, seeming to arise from some wellspring of her nature. Perhaps

it was a love of life itself, and -of all living creatures, but it

expressed itself now in her warm tongue, which seemed everywhere, and in

her soft, moving lips which ceaselessly explored him, and in pressures and

rhythms of her body, prompting him to respond in kind and in ways which had

been alien until this night, but were suddenly instinctive.

She murmured, "Don't hurryl Make it last."

He whispered back, "I'll try.,,

Despite the wish, before too long their mutual hunger swept them to a

climax. Then the urgency receded, and a sense of peace and comfort came to

Martin such as he had seldom known before.

Even then his questioning, scientist's mind sought causes for the

exceptional serenity. Perhaps, he reasoned, what he felt was simply a

relief from built-up tensions. Yet instincts which were non-scientific told

him it was something more: that Yvonne was a rare woman blessed with inner

peace transmittable to others and with that thought, soon afterward, he

fell asleep.

He slept deeply and awoke to the sight of daylight and sounds of

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activity from his kitchen below. Moments later Yvonne appeared, wearing a

dressing gown of Martin's and carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and

saucers, and toasted crumpets with honey. Surrounding her was the house

collection of two dogs and three cats, who seemed to recognize a newfound

friend.

Yvonne put the tray on the bed where Martin had just sat up.

Smiling, she touched the dressing gown. "I hope you don't mind."

"It looks better on you than me."

She sat on the bed and began pouring. "You like milk in your tea, but no

sugar."

:'Yes, but how did you-"

'I asked at the lab. In case I needed to know. By the way, your kitchen is

a mess." She passed him the tea.

:'Thank you. Sorry about the kitchen. It's because I live alone."

'Before I go today, I'll clean it."

The dressing gown had fallen open and Martin said, "About going. I hope

you're not in any hurry."

Allowing the garment to stay the way it was, she smiled again. "Mind your

fingers on the plate; it's hot."

He told her, "I'm not sure I believe all this. Breakfast in bed is a luxury

I haven't had in years."

:'You should have it often. You deserve it."

'But you're the guest. I should have done this for you."

She assured him, "I like it this way. More tea?"

"Maybe later." He put down his cup and reached out for her.

Yvonne shrugged off the dressing gown, let it slide to the floor, and came

to him. Holding her, and this time unhurriedly, he moved his hands,

exploring, over her breasts and thighs.

Kissing her, he said, "You have a beautiful body."

"Too much of it." She laughed. "I need to take off weight." Reaching

downward, she pinched a thigh and held a roll of creamy flesh between her

thumb and forefinger. "What I need is some of your Peptide 7. Then I could

be thin, the way those rats are."

"Not necessary." Martin's face was in her hair. "I like everything you

have, just the way it is."

As the minutes passed, their passion of the night before rekindled and

grew. Martin was erect, Yvonne eagerly clasping him to her as he prepared

to enter her.

She urged, "Go on! Do it!"

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But instead he stopped abruptly, his arms loosening. Then he grasped

Yvonne's shoulders and held her away.

"What did you say?"

"I said, do it!"

"No. Before that."

She pleaded, "Martin, don't torture me! I want you now.

""at did you say?"

"Oh, shit!" Frustrated, the mood between them shattered, she let herself

fall back. "Why did you do that?"

"I want to know what you said. About Peptide 7."

She answered petulantly, "Peptide 7? Oh, I said that if I took some,

maybe I could be thin like the rats. But what - - ."

"That's what I thought." He leaped from the bed. "Hurry up! Get dressed."

.'Why?"

"We're going to the lab."

She asked incredulously, "Now?"

Martin had thrown on a shirt and was pulling on trousers.

"Yes. Right now."

Could it be true, he asked himself. Could it possibly be true?

Martin stood, looking down from above, at a dozen rats that had taken

turns in running through the maze. At his request, Yvonne had brought

them from the animal room. They were a group which, for several months,

had been injected with the partially purified peptide mix, and more

recently with Peptide 7. All of the rats were thin-far thinner than when