Strong Medicine (77 page)

always know where you stand."

"I'm already nervous about our meeting."

He laughed. "No need to be. I predict you'll like each other."

It was a Friday evening in July and the two of them were in Martin's house

at Harlow, into which Yvonne had moved completely almost a year before. She

abandoned her small apartment because it seemed a needless expense.

In the living room at this moment, books and papers were spread around-a

clutter from Yvonne's studies for "A" level exams, now six months away. A

year and a half had passed since, at Martin's urging, she had taken on the

heavy work load which eventually, they hoped, would launch her into

veterinary medicine.

The studying had gone well. Yvonne, loving what she was doing, had never

been happier. Her joy pervaded the household and was shared by Martin. As

well as continuing to work at the FeldingRoth Research institute by day,

she was having outside tutoring during some evenings and weekends.

Martin-as he had promised -helped Yvonne, supplementing her learning with

his practical experience.

Another reason for pleasure was progress at the institute. Since the

devastating "animal-rights" raid, the reassembly of data had gone far

faster than expected. Now, not only was all of it recovered, but

development of Peptide 7 had advanced to the point of being ready for a

management product review.

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Celia, along with several others from New Jersey, would arrive at Harlow

for that purpose on Wednesday of the next week.

At this moment, however, thoughts of Celia were a digression. Martin

continued to frown, as he had for several minutes, over a textbook-Murray's

Principles of Organic Chemistry.

"They've rewritten this since I studied it for my degree. Some of the new

stuff is unrealistic. You'll learn it, then ignore it afterward."

Yvonne asked, "You're talking about those systematic chemical names?"

"Of course."

The Geneva system for chemicals had been devised by the Inter

national Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry, abbreviated to

IUPAC and pronounced "U-pak." The idea was that the name of

any chemical compound should also indicate its structure. Thus,

iso-octane became 2,2,4-trimethylpentane, acetic acid --- common

vinegar-was ethanoic acid, and ordinary glycerin, propane-1,2,3

triol. Unfortunately, chemists who were supposed to use the

IUPAC names seldom did, though examiners required them. Thus

Yvonne was learning the new names for the exams, the old for

future lab work.

She asked, "Don't you use IUPAC names in the lab?"

"Not often. Most of us can't remember them; also they're unwieldy. Anyway,

let me test you on both."

"Go ahead."

Successively, Martin called off twenty chemicals, sometimes using the old

name, with others the newer code. Each time, without hesitating, Yvonne

recited the alternate.

Martin closed the book, shaking his head. "That memory of yours still

amazes me. I wish I had one like it."

"Is my memory why you won't let me take Peptide 7?"

"That's part of it. Mostly, though, I don't want you running any risks."

A month ago, Martin had posted a notice at the institute. It was headed:

Volunteers Wanted.

The notice requested that any staffers who were willing to have Peptide 7

injected into them, for the first series of tests on healthy humans, should

sign their names below. The objectives and potential risk were carefully

spelled out. Before posting the notice, Martin signed himself.

Rao Sastri signed immediately after. Within a few days there were fourteen

more signatures, including Yvonne's.

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From the final list, Martin chose a total of ten volunteers. Yvonne was

not among them. When she inquired about her omission, he put her off

with, "Perhaps later. Not yet."

The purpose of the early human testing was not to study positive results

from Peptide 7, but to look for any harmful side effects. As Martin

explained to Celia by telephone at the time, "We're allowed to do this

kind of testing in Britain on our own, though in America you'd need

approval from the FDA."

So far, after twenty days' monitoring of the volunteers, who continued

to receive daily doses of Peptide 7, there had been no visible side

effects whatever. Martin was delighted, though knowing that much more

human testing needed to be done.

Yvonne sighed, "I'd like to have some Peptide 7 soon. It's probably the

only way I'll ever take my extra weight off. By the way, I bought us

kippers for tomorrow."

Martin beamed and told her, "You're an angel." Kippers were his favorite

breakfast on weekends, when he could take time to enjoy them.

His voice became more serious. "I'm going to see my mother tomorrow. I

talked to my father today and he told me the doctors say she hasn't

long."

While the deterioration of Martin's mother had been slow, the progression

of her Alzheimer's disease had been relentless. A few months earlier,

Martin had had her moved into a Cambridge nursing home where she now

floated dimly on the outer edge of life. Martin's father eontinued to

live in a small but pleasant flat that Martin had rented for his parents

soon after joining Felding-Roth.

"I'm sorry." Yvonne reached out, touching his hand in sympathy. "Yes,

I'll come. If you don't mind my studying in the car."

They arranged to leave immediately after breakfast. Martin wanted to stop

at his office, briefly, on the way.

Next morning at the institute, while Martin glanced through mail and read

a computer printout from the day before, Yvonne wandered into the animal

room. He found her there later.

She had paused in front of a cage containing several rats and Martin

heard her exclaim, "You horny old devil!"

He asked, amused, "Who is?"

Yvonne turned, then pointed to the cage. "This bunch are some of the

homiest little beasts I've ever seen. Just lately, they can't

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seem to get enough of each other. They'd sooner have sex than eat. "

While Martin watched, the rat over whom Yvonne had exclaimed continued

copulating with a submissive female, while another pair in an adjoining

cage amused themselves likewise.

He glanced at typed descriptions on both cages. All the rats, he noted,

were receiving the most recent, refined batch of Peptide 7.

"You said they were horny 'just lately.' What does that mean?"

Yvonne hesitated, then looked sharply at Martin. "I suppose . . . since

they've been getting their injections."

"And they're not young rats?"

"If they were human, they'd draw old-age pensions."

He laughed and said, "It's probably coincidence." Then he wondered, was

it?

As if reading his mind, Yvonne asked, "What will you do?"

"On Monday, I'd like you to check the breeding rate of rats which have

had Peptide 7. Let me know if it's average, or above."

"I don't have to wait until Monday. I can tell you now, it's way above

normal. Up to this moment, though, I didn't connect-"

Martin said sharply, "Don't connect! Assumptions can lead down false

alleys. Just send me what figures you have."

She said submissively, "All right."

"After that, set up two new groups of male and female older rats. Keep

the groups separate, but let each group cohabit. One group will receive

Peptide 7, the other won't. I want a computerized study of the mating

habits of both."

Yvonne giggled. "A computer won't tell you how many times

"I suppose not. But it will keep track of litters. We'll settle for that.

"

She nodded, and Martin sensed that her mind was on something else. He

asked, "What is it?"

"I was thinking about a funny thing that happened yesterday. While I was

buying those kippers. Mickey Yates is one of your volunteers, isn't he?"

"Yes." Yates, a lab technician, was the oldest of the Peptide 7

volunteers. He had gone out of his way to be helpful to Martin ever since

the incident, several years earlier, involving Celia and the guillotined

rat. Being in the testing program was Yates's latest contribution.

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"Well, I saw his wife in the market and she said how good it was that

Mickey's work was making him feel young again."

"Meaning what?"

"I asked her. So she went red and said nowadays Mickey was feeling so

'bouncy and energetic'-those were her words-he was keeping her busy in

bed."

"Did she mean just recently?"

"I'm sure of it."

"And he hadn't before?"

"According to her, hardly ever."

"I'm amazed she'd talk about it."

Yvonne smiled. "You don't know women very well."

Martin was thoughtful, then he said, "Let's get in the car. We'll talk on

the way to Cambridge."

At first, while driving, they listened to the news on the radio, which was

mostly of politics. It was an exciting, optimistic time in Britain. Two

months earlier, a general election had brought to power the first woman

prime minister in British history. Now, Margaret Thatcher and her

government were injecting new enterprise into a nation which had suffiered

from too little of it since World War II.

At the end of the news, Martin switched off the radio and returned to

closer concerns.

"I'm worried," he said, "and I don't want any general talk about what we've

discussed this morning. You're to keep to yourself what you told me about

those rats breeding. Also, don't tell anyone else about the new study. We

have to do it, even though I don't like the idea, but keep the results

locked up until you give them to me. And no more stories about Mickey Yates

and his wife."

"I'll do all of that," Yvonne said. "But I don't understand why you're

worried."

"Then I'll tell you. It's because we've produced a drug which I hope will

be significant, be taken seriously, and become an important disease

fighter. But if word gets around that it's some kind of aphrodisiac-as well

as inducing weight loss, which may or may not be good after all-it could be

the worst thing to happen. It would throw everything we've done into

disrepute, could make us look as if we reinvented snake oil."

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"I think I understand," Yvonne said. "And now you've explained it, I won't

talk. But it'll be hard to stop others."

Mar-tin said grimly, "That's what I'm afraid of

It was midmorning when they reached Cambridge. Martin drove directly to the

nursing home where his mother was being cared for. She was in bed, which

was where she spent most of her time, having to be lifted out when

necessary. She remembered nothing, not even the simplest things, and-as had

been the case for many yearsgave no flicker of recognition when Martin came

close.

His mother, Martin thought as he stood with Yvonne beside him, seemed

visibly to be wasting away day by day. Her body was emaciated, cheeks

gaunt, hair thinning. Even in the earlier declining years-around the time