Hypocrite's Isle

Twenty-two

Gavin didn’t sleep much. He tossed and turned as he struggled to make sense of his predicament and tried to see a way out. The thing he hadn’t told Caroline was that if he were to hand over what Valdevan he had, there would be none left to carry out the final confirmatory experiments. He hadn’t said this because he felt sure that she would have seen it as just another excuse. True, the planned experiments were only repeats of what he’d done before, and the paper might still be accepted without the insurance they offered, but equally well, it might not — it would all depend on which referees it was sent out to for comments. Happily, it was unlikely that it would be sent to anyone in the same department, or even the same university, but word going out on the grapevine might still make things difficult if old pals were to make phone calls and old favours were to be called in. This was why Frank Simmons wanted the data to be watertight before they submitted for publication.

Although he felt bad about it, it wasn’t as if he had any doubts about what had to be done: the interests of the many had to be put before those of an individual, even if that individual happened to be Caroline’s mother. This was what his head was telling him, but his heart was telling him something else. Caroline loved her mother and he loved Caroline. Doing the right thing would mean hurting one of them deeply and denying the other a possible chance of life. There was also the possibility that it might already be too late for her mother — but this was just another doubt that rolled in on the tide of angst that denied him any relief from mounting stress.

He wished there was someone he could confide in, but there wasn’t. Anyone capable of understanding the factors involved was already an interested party, and therefore had an axe to grind. Frank would see publication of the science as paramount. Carrie would cling to any chance at all of helping her mother. He, of course, would like to see both these things happen. Grumman Schalk, on the other hand, were determined to consign Valdevan to history and wanted the science to disappear — as did the university, who were siding with Grumman for financial reasons. If either of these parties were to catch wind of any plan to use the drug therapeutically, they would almost certainly call in the police. Alternative agendas? He couldn’t move for them.

He didn’t fall asleep until what passed for daylight in Edinburgh on a morning in February appeared in the sky, and assured him that the demons of the night had gone. He dozed until eleven before taking a lukewarm shower and making himself some coffee and toast. His flatmates were out at work so he had the kitchen to himself as he planned the day ahead. There was now no need for him to stay away from the department. Tom Baxter’s confession had absolved him from any blame over what had happened to Mary. He and Frank had to talk, and the sooner the better.

Frank wasn’t in the lab when Gavin arrived and there was no sign of him having been there: no jacket hanging behind the door in his office and no battered briefcase sitting at the side of his desk. Gavin’s nerves stopped him hanging around waiting. He went down to the cell culture suite to see if relations had improved now that the staff knew that he wasn’t to blame for the fire.

He found Trish in contrite mood. ‘I’m so sorry, Gavin. We never dreamt that anything like that could happen, in the university of all places. Everyone was so sure it had to have been an accident, then when we heard that Tom Baxter had set the whole thing up deliberately... he must have been off his head. Makes you wonder who you’re working beside these days...’

‘The sooner we start picking up the pieces and getting back to normal the better,’ said Gavin.

‘Do you think you can? I mean, apart from you, Frank’s group has virtually gone... his lab’s a complete mess...’

‘We’ve got to try,’ said Gavin. ‘If you believe in what you’re doing you have to get on with it. Looking backwards never got anyone anywhere.’

Trish shrugged uncertainly.

‘I’m going to see if someone will give me lab space to set up a few experiments. I was wondering where I was in the queue for cell cultures right now?’

Trish looked as if she was walking on eggshells. ‘Honestly, Gavin, I’d love to be able to tell you that we’ll get right on to it, but a problem has come up. We had a circular round from Professor Sutcliffe. He says that all requests made under Frank Simmons’ grant numbers should be suspended for the time being...’

‘What for?’ exclaimed Gavin. ‘There’s loads of money in the accounts. Frank’s one of the best-funded scientists in the department.’

‘I’m sure you’re right...’ Trish looked uncomfortable. ‘But I don’t see how we can ignore it. Maybe you should speak to the prof?’

Gavin knocked on Liz’s door and entered. She looked as if she had been expecting him. ‘He’s on the phone at the moment. I’ll ask if he’ll see you when he’s finished.’

Gavin nodded, and turned his attention to the painting on the wall while Liz got back to her typing. He was on the third tilt of his head in a search for a meaningful angle when Liz said, ‘That’s him finished.’ She pressed the intercom button and said, ‘Gavin Donnelly wonders if he might have a word?’

‘Give me a couple of minutes.’

Liz made a face and Gavin turned his attention back to the picture on the wall. Five minutes later, Sutcliffe opened the door of his office and said, ‘Come in, Gavin. I’m glad you dropped by. I wasn’t sure if you’d be in today.’

‘I’ve just been down in the cell culture suite. They tell me Frank’s grants have been suspended?’

‘Frank and I had a long conversation last night,’ said Sutcliffe, ignoring what Gavin had said. ‘There was a meeting up at Old College. Understandably, he’s very upset over what happened to Mary and Tom, and the faculty wanted to do anything they could to help. Frank will be taking some time off to rest and recover. He’s been granted six months’ leave of absence, effective immediately. I understand he and Jenny plan to visit relatives in Australia.’

‘Australia?’ exclaimed Gavin. ‘Six months?’

‘What with his lab being out of action and everything else that’s gone on, it seems like the right time. That is why I took the step of suspending the use of his grants this morning. Everything is going into suspended animation, as it were.’

Gavin sat, wide-eyed and speechless.

‘And you, of course, are wondering where this leaves you...’

I have to finish off the experiments for the paper we’re about to submit,’ said Gavin, feeling totally disorientated. ‘I need more cell cultures...’

‘There’s no question of you carrying out unsupervised research,’ said Sutcliffe, pausing to let the words sink in. ‘Frank, of course, expressed concern for your immediate future, and I have made preliminary enquiries about the possibility of an alternative supervisor for you. Jack Martin — very kindly I thought in the circumstances — would be agreeable to taking you on... but on the clear understanding that you would work on one of his projects. It wouldn’t be too late to change; you’ve only been here six months, and I’m sure the first-year review committee would take that into consideration when the time came for your first-year assessment.’

‘I need to finish off the Valdevan work,’ said Gavin. ‘It won’t take long and it won’t be expensive.’

‘I’m afraid that is out of the question.’

The words hit Gavin like a death sentence. The curtain had fallen, and he hadn’t even heard the fat lady sing. It was over. Game, set and match to Sutcliffe. The anger and impotence he felt made him get up from his chair and leave the room without saying another word.

‘Let me know your decision,’ said Sutcliffe pleasantly to his back.

‘All right?’ asked Liz as he passed.

‘Bastard,’ murmured Gavin.

He had to speak to Frank, was his one thought as he hurried along the corridor to the lab. What the hell was he playing at? Two technicians from the computing support group were coming out of the lab as he arrived. ‘Problems?’ he asked.

‘No, everything’s fine,’ said one.

Gavin sat down on Simmons’ chair in his office and called his home number. Jenny answered.

‘Jenny? It’s Gavin Donnelly. I need to speak to Frank.’

‘I’m sorry, Gavin. Frank needs a few days away from everything to do with the lab. I really don’t want anyone bothering him.’

‘It’s important.’

‘So is his health.’

‘Yes, sorry, of course. Maybe I could come and see him in a couple of days’ time? There’s quite a lot we have to sort out.’

‘I’m sure.’

Gavin’s head was spinning. What on earth was Frank thinking of, going away for six months when they were so close to finishing the Valdevan work? He desperately needed something to cling to, and right now, anything would do. He tried building a raft with positives. He had the drugs safely at home in the flat; he had a copy of Frank’s first draft of the paper, and he had all his notes containing the raw data. He saw that it would be more convenient to have electronic versions of both, so they could be transferred more easily, so he turned on Frank’s computer to make copies from the hard drive to disk. But as he did so, his blood ran cold, and he suddenly realised why the computer technicians had been in the lab. He had the confirmation in front of him. The hard drive on Frank Simmons’ computer had been wiped clean. The master copy of the paper had been deleted. He rushed out into the lab to check the other computers. All the hard drives had been wiped.

For the very first time in dealing with opposition to his work, Gavin felt fear enter the equation. Anger and frustration were no longer his leading emotions. The opposition were winning, and he felt powerless to do anything. At that particular moment, there was no record anywhere in the department of the work he’d done on Valdevan, and when he turned down Jack Martin’s offer of an alternative PhD project — as they must know he would — Sutcliffe would have the MRC cancel his grant, resulting in there being no record of him either. Gavin Donnelly would be a soon-to-be-forgotten name who had once spent six months in the department before giving up and leaving. You had to respect opposition like that.

It was less than an hour since he’d given Trish a lecture about not looking back. Now he found himself having to heed his own advice. He had to move on. It was no longer going to be possible for him to finish the repeat experimental work: the paper would have to go off and take its chances with what data they had. The first thing to do would be to type the text into his laptop from the hard copy he had, and then update all the data. When that was done, he would need Frank to write a covering letter. It was essential that the paper be submitted with a statement giving the origin of the work as Edinburgh University and signed by a senior member of the academic staff. If he tried to submit on his own, Sutcliffe would disown both him and the research. With that clear in his head, the top of the agenda now was Valdevan. What was bad news for experimental work was good news for Caroline’s mother.

Gavin locked the lab door from the inside before opening his rucksack and moving quickly round the lab, collecting bits and pieces he might need: sterilising filters, syringes of assorted capacity and needles to fit, a few bottles of sterile distilled water and a couple of sterile beakers. He returned to Frank Simmons’ office to check the second-year medical students’ lecture schedule for that day, and found that Caroline would finish at 4 p.m. He was waiting for her when she emerged from the lecture theatre.

The other students seemed chatty and animated, but Caroline, when she appeared, seemed alone and preoccupied. She smiled wanly when she saw Gavin and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I wasn’t at all sure if I’d see you today.’

‘Let’s get some coffee.’

They made their way round to the student union.

‘Frank’s going to Australia,’ said Gavin as they sat down with their coffee.

‘What?’ said Caroline.

‘For six months.’

Caroline looked incredulous. ‘Why?’

‘I haven’t been able to ask him that. Apparently, he’s been taking what happened pretty badly.’

‘Understandable, I suppose — but Australia for six months? What’s going to happen to you and your research?’

‘We’ll have to send off what data we have and hope for the best,’ said Gavin. ‘Jenny says I’ll be able to talk to Frank in a couple of days or so, and I need him to write a covering letter. As for me, Sutcliffe’s given me the choice of a change to Jack Martin’s group with a change of project, or... out on my ear.’

‘That’s outrageous. What’s Frank playing at? He can’t let this happen.’

‘That’s what I keep thinking,’ said Gavin. ‘But every time I pinch myself, I find I’m awake.’

‘There has to be more to this than we’re seeing,’ said Caroline. ‘There just has to be.’

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said about treating your mother...’

‘Forget it. It was a crazy idea,’ said Caroline.

‘Your mother is probably too far gone to be helped.’

Caroline nodded.

‘If I use up the Valdevan on her, there will be none left to complete the experiments, if and when lab space should ever become available.’

Another nod.

‘There probably isn’t enough to treat your mother anyway.’

‘Gavin, you don’t have to explain...’

‘But we’re going to give it a try if you’re up for it.’

Caroline’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re serious?’

‘The sooner we get started the better,’ said Gavin. ‘But where will your father fit into all this?’

‘I can’t possibly tell him. I’ll have to give Mum the drug when he’s not around.’

‘Will you tell her what you’re doing?’

‘I think I have to. It’s important that we have her permission...’

In case things go wrong, thought Gavin, filling in the blank. But even with that proviso, he could imagine a hostile barrister mouthing the words: You preyed on the hopes of a desperate woman in order to carry out a wholly unlicensed experiment...

‘Getting her to agree won’t be a problem,’ said Caroline. ‘But...’

‘But what?’

‘The minute I tell her about this, her whole demeanour is going to change. No matter how much I warn her that it might not work — probably won’t work — she is going to cling to it like a life-jacket, because it’s the only hope she’s got, and that’s what people do in her situation. She’ll want to tell Dad. She’ll want him to share that hope.’

‘Presumably he’ll go apeshit if he finds out?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Your mother wasn’t going to tell him about her assisted suicide request.’

‘She could hide despair from him. I’m not so sure about hope.’

‘Sounds like we’re falling at the first fence.’

‘I could strike a bargain with her... I could tell her that if your idea fails... I’ll give her the help she wants, providing she doesn’t say anything to Dad about Valdevan.’

‘The stakes are getting really high.’

‘For all of us. When do we start? How do we do this?’

Gavin confessed that it was going to be guesswork all the way, but he could calculate the dose of Valdevan if he knew Caroline’s mother’s body weight. Caroline was able to tell him exactly, adding, ‘She was weighed at the hospital last Thursday.’

‘Then the only big unknown is the growth rate of the tumour,’ said Gavin. ‘Tumours grow at vastly different rates. Cell doubling time can vary from about twenty-five days to over a thousand, with an average of about a hundred. I’m assuming that, because she’s gone downhill so fast, your mother’s is at the fast end — bad for the patient but good for us — the faster the better. The sooner the cells take up the drug the sooner they’ll develop membrane damage and become susceptible to polymyxin. We’re only going to get one chance, so I think we have to give her as long as possible on the Valdevan and then give her the polymyxin. We’ve got enough Valdevan for fourteen days, maybe a bit longer.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘When do you plan on going home?’

‘I’ll tell the university I’m going to have to drop out of my course for a few weeks and hope they’ll understand. All things being equal, I could go down tomorrow morning.’

‘I’ll prepare what you need tonight and write out instructions. I’ll meet you at the station in the morning?’

‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’

Caroline returned to the flat with Gavin and together they prepared a pack for Caroline to take with her in the morning. Luckily, Gavin had held on to the polystyrene box he’d brought the drugs home from the lab in, so it could be restocked with ice and would keep drugs cool until Caroline got home. They talked a bit about the injection schedule and possible side-effects to look out for but, as no lab monitoring would be possible, this would all be subjective.

They went out for a meal to Bar Napoli, an Italian restaurant known for its easy-going Mediterranean atmosphere, in the hope that it might afford them some escape from the growing strain they were under, but to no avail.

‘I can’t believe I’m going to do this,’ said Caroline, playing with the food on her fork more than eating it.

‘We’re doing it,’ corrected Gavin.

‘I’m to blame. You’re only doing it because of me.’

‘It’s not a question of blame. It’s the right thing to do... when all’s said and done.’

‘What will you do while I’m away?’

‘I’ll write up the paper, adding in all the data I’ve gathered since Frank did the first draft, and then I’ll talk to him and get him to do the covering letter.’

‘It’s not going to be easy, meeting him after what he’s done. You won’t lose your temper, will you?’

Gavin shook his head. ‘Like you say, there’s probably much more to it than we’re seeing.’