Seizure

four

8:15 P.M., Thursday, February 21, 2002

It appeared to Carol that every light was blazing in the senator’s modest Arlington, Virginia, home as she turned into the driveway and came to a stop. She glanced at her watch. With the vagaries of Washington traffic, it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to manage to arrive at Union Station at exactly nine o’clock. She hoped she’d timed it right, although things were not starting out auspiciously. It had taken ten minutes longer than she’d planned to get from her apartment in Foggy Bottom out to Ashley’s house. Luckily, with her grand plan, she’d given herself an extra quarter-hour leeway.

Leaving the engine running and setting the emergency brake, Carol prepared to get out of her vehicle. But it turned out that exposing herself to the cold drizzle wasn’t necessary. Ashley’s front door opened, and the senator appeared. Behind him stood his portly wife of forty years, looking like the epitome of solid domesticity, dressed in a white, lace-fringed apron over a paisley housedress. Under the protection of the porch and following her apparent orders, he struggled to open his umbrella. What had started out that day as snow flurries had changed to steady rain.

With his face hidden beneath the inverted bowl of the black umbrella, Ashley began descending his front steps. He moved slowly and deliberately, giving Carol a moment to study the blocky, slightly stooped, heavyset man who in another life could have been a farmer or even a steelworker. For Carol, it wasn’t a particularly cheerful sight watching her boss approach. There was something distinctly depressing and pathetic about the scene. The misty air and the sepia coloring contributed, as did the monotonous click-clack of the windshield wipers as they implacably traced their repeated arcs across the wet windshield. But for Carol, it was more what she knew than what she saw. Here was a man she had respected almost to the point of reverence, for whom she’d made countless sacrifices for more than a decade, but who was now unpredictable and occasionally even mean. Despite her best efforts with the senator during the day, she still had no idea why he insisted on the upcoming clandestine and politically risky meeting with Dr. Lowell, and due to his insistence on absolute secrecy, she’d not been able to ask anyone else. To make matters worse, she couldn’t escape the feeling that Ashley had kept the reason for the meeting from her out of spite, purely because he instinctually knew how desperately she wanted to know. During the last year, thanks to a number of undeserved sarcastic comments, she sensed he envied her relative youth and good health.

Carol watched Ashley stop at the foot of the steps to make an adjustment on the flat ground. For a moment, he seemed frozen in place, a metaphor of his bullish stubbornness, a quality Carol had once admired when it involved his populist political beliefs but which now irritated her. In the past, he had fought for power to push his conservative agenda, but now it seemed he fought for power for power’s sake as though he was addicted to it. She’d always thought of him as a great man who’d know when to step aside, but now she was no longer so confident.

Ashley began walking slowly, and with his black coat, rounded shoulders, and short shuffling steps, he reminded Carol of a large penguin. He gained speed as he moved. Carol expected him to come around to the passenger side, but instead he opened the back door directly behind her. She could feel the car shake gently as he climbed in. The door slammed shut. She heard the umbrella fall to the floor.

Carol twisted around. Ashley settled back into the seat. In the dim, brownish-gray light of the car’s interior, his face appeared pallid, almost ghostlike, and his coarse features retreated back into his flesh as if dimpled into a loaf of unbaked bread. His thinning gray hair that typically knew its place was frazzled like a clump of steel wool. The lenses of his thick-framed glasses eerily reflected back the lights of his house.

“You’re late,” Ashley complained, without a trace of his Southern accent.

“I’m sorry,” Carol responded by reflex. She was always apologizing. “But I think we’ll be fine. Should we talk before we head back into town?”

“Drive!” Ashley commanded.

Carol felt a wave of anger wash over her. But she held her tongue, knowing full well what the consequences might be if she voiced her feelings. Ashley had the memory of an elephant for any perceived slights, and the maliciousness of his revenge was legendary. Carol put the hulking Suburban in gear and backed out of the driveway.

The route was simple with limited access roads most of the way. Carol worked her way over to the 395 highway with reassuring ease by catching all the traffic lights green. On the main artery, she was pleased to find less traffic than there had been fifteen minutes earlier, and she accelerated unimpeded to highway speed. Sensing her timing was going to be fine, she relaxed a degree, but as they neared the Potomac River, a commercial jetliner leaving Reagan National Airport thundered overhead. It sounded to Carol as if it were a mere fifty feet above them. As tense as she was, the sudden, reverberating noise startled her enough to cause the car to momentarily swerve.

“If I did not know better,” Ashley said, reverting back to his signature Southern drawl and speaking up for the first time since his rude command, “I would have sworn on my mother’s memory that jetliner’s turbulence extended all the way down here to this highway. Are you fully in command of this vehicle, my dear?”

“Everything is fine,” Carol said curtly. At the moment, she even found Ashley’s theatrical accent aggravating, with the knowledge of how easily he could turn it on and off.

“I’ve been perusing the dossier you and the rest of the staff put together on the good doctor,” Ashley said after a short pause. “In fact, I’ve darn near committed it to memory. I have to commend you and the others. You all did a fine job. I believe I know more about that boy than he does himself.”

Carol nodded but didn’t reply. Silence returned until they entered the tunnel running beneath the grassy expanse of the Washington Mall.

“I know you are displeased and cross with me,” Ashley said suddenly. “And I know why.”

Carol glanced back at the senator in her rearview mirror. Flashes of light from the tunnel’s ceramic tiles reflected off his face in a flickering manner, making him appear more ghostlike than earlier.

“You’re cross with me because I have not divulged my reasons for this imminent meeting.”

Carol glanced at him again. She was taken aback. Such an admission was totally out of character. Never had he suggested he knew or cared what Carol was feeling. As such, it was more evidence of his current unpredictability, and she didn’t quite know what to say.

“It reminds me of one time my mama was cross with me,” Ashley said, now adding his anecdotal manner of speaking to his accent. Carol groaned inwardly. It was a mannerism she found equally trying. “This was back when I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I was in a mind to go fishing by myself in a river more than a mile from our home where there were reputed to be catfish the size of armadillos. I left before dawn, before anyone else had stirred, and I caused my mama a good deal of concern. When I returned home, she was fit to be tied and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and demanded to know why I had not asked her permission to go on such a foolhardy journey at my tender age. I told her I did not ask her because I knew she would say no. Well, Carol, dear, that’s the same situation with this impending meeting with the doctor. I know you well enough to know that you would be of a mind to try to change mine, and I am committed.”

“I would only try to change your mind if it were in your best interest,” Carol responded.

“There are times when your emulousness is transparently flagrant, my dear. Most people might not believe your true motivations, considering your apparent selfless devotion, but I know you better.”

Carol swallowed out of nervousness. She did not know precisely what to make of Ashley’s pompous comment, but she knew she did not want to go in the direction it implied, meaning he sensed her unspoken ambitions. Instead she asked, “Did you at least discuss the meeting with Phil to be certain of its potential political ramifications?”

“Heavens, no! I have not discussed the meeting with anyone, not even my wife, bless her soul. You, the doctors, and myself are the only people who even know it is about to take place.”

Carol exited off the freeway and headed for Massachusetts Avenue. She was relieved they were closing in on Union Station to preclude the possibility of the conversation returning to the topic of her tacit goals. She looked at her watch. It was a quarter to nine.

“We are going to be a little bit early,” she said.

“Then meander a bit,” Ashley suggested. “I would prefer to be exactly on time. It will set a proper tone for the appointment.”

Carol turned right on North Capital and then left on D. It was a familiar area because of its proximity to the Senate Office Building. By the time she was heading back to the Union Station, it was three minutes before nine. When she pulled directly in front of the station, it was nine on the dot.

“There they are,” Ashley said, pointing over Carol’s shoulder. Daniel and Stephanie were huddled beneath a Four Seasons umbrella. They stood out from the crowd because of their immobility. Everyone else in the area was hustling to gain shelter, either in the station or in one of the waiting taxis.

Carol flicked the high beams up and down to get the doctors’ attention.

“There’s no reason to cause a scene,” Ashley growled. “They’ve spotted us.”

Daniel could be seen checking his watch before sauntering toward the Suburban, Stephanie holding on to his left arm.

The doctors came to Carol’s window. She lowered it.

“Ms. Manning?” Daniel asked offhandedly.

“I’m in the backseat, Doctor!” Ashley called out before Carol could respond. “How about you joining me back here and your exquisite collaborator joining Carol up front.”

Daniel shrugged before he and Stephanie rounded the car. He held the umbrella for Stephanie to climb in, then he did the same himself.

“Welcome!” Ashley beamed, as he stuck out one of his broad, thick-fingered hands. “Thank you for coming out to meet with me on such a dreadfully wet evening.”

Daniel eyed Ashley’s hand but made no motion to take it in his own. “What’s on your mind, Senator?”

“Now here’s a true Northerner,” Ashley said cheerfully, as he withdrew his hand and seemingly took no offense at Daniel’s rebuff. “Always ready to cut to the quick without wasting time on the refinements of life. Well, so be it. There will be time for handshaking later. Meanwhile, my intention is for you and I to get to know each other. You see, I am very much interested in your Aesculapian talents.”

“Where to, Senator?” Carol questioned, while peering at Ashley in her rearview mirror.

“Why don’t we take the good doctors on a tour of our fair city,” Ashley suggested. “Head down to the Tidal Basin so they can enjoy our city’s most elegant memorial!”

Carol put the car in gear and headed south on First Street. Carol and Stephanie exchanged a quick, appraising glance at each other.

“Here’s the Capitol itself on the right,” Ashley said, pointing. “And on our left is the Supreme Court, which I just personally love architecturally, and the Library of Congress.”

“Senator,” Daniel said, “with all due respect, which I’m afraid isn’t a lot, I’m not interested in your giving us a tour of the city, nor am I interested in getting to know you better, especially after the sham hearing you put us through this morning.”

“My dear, dear friend…” Ashley began after a short silence.

“How about cutting out the Southern bombast!” Daniel snapped scornfully. “And for the record, I’m not your dear friend. I’m not your friend at all.”

“Doctor, with all due respect, which I mean sincerely, you do yourself a great disservice by indulging in such effrontery. If you allow me to offer a bit of advice: You hurt your own cause when you allow your emotions to overpower your considerable intellect as you did this morning. Despite your adequately expressed animosity toward me, I wish to negotiate with you on a man-to-man and preferably gentleman-to-gentleman basis on a most important but sensitive matter. We both have something the other desires, and in order to realize those desires, we each have to do something we would rather not do.”

“You’re talking in riddles,” Daniel grumbled.

“Perhaps I am,” Ashley admitted. “Do I have your interest? I shall not proceed unless I am convinced of your interest.”

Ashley heard Daniel exhale impatiently, and he imagined the doctor had rolled his eyes by his body language, but he couldn’t tell for certain because of the darkness in the car. Ashley waited while Daniel briefly stared out his window at the passing Smithsonian buildings.

“Merely admitting to your interest will neither obligate you or jeopardize you in any way,” Ashley said. “No other persons than those in this vehicle know that we are chatting tonight, provided, of course, that you have not informed anyone.”

“I would have been embarrassed to have told someone.”

“I choose to be immune to your rudeness, Doctor, as I was immune this morning to your lack of courtesy by your attire, your disdainful body language, and your verbal attacks on me. As a gentleman, I could have been insulted, but I am not. So save your breath! What I want to know is whether you are interested in negotiating.”

“What exactly would I be negotiating?”

“The viability of your start-up company, your current career, your chance of celebrity, and perhaps most important, an opportunity to avoid failure. I have reason to believe failure is a particular anathema to you.”

Daniel stared at Ashley in the half-light. Ashley could feel the intensity of the doctor’s eyes, despite being unable to see their details. It made the senator confident that he was indeed striking close to the man’s inner being.

“You believe I’m particularly adverse to failure?” Daniel questioned, in a voice that was less sardonic than earlier.

“Absolutely,” Ashley returned. “You are a powerfully competitive person, which, combined with your intellect, has been the driving force of your success. But powerfully competitive people do not like to fail, especially when part of their motivation is to escape their past. You have done well and come a long way from Revere, Massachusetts, yet your biggest nightmare involves a downfall that would force you back to your childhood roots. It is not a rational worry, considering your credentials, but it haunts you nonetheless.”

Daniel gave a short, mirthless laugh. “How did you come up with this ridiculously bizarre theory?” he questioned.

“I know a lot about you, my friend. My daddy always told me knowledge was power. And since we would be negotiating, I made it a point to take advantage of my considerable resources, including contacts at the Bureau, to learn as much about you and your start-up company as possible. In fact, not only do I know about you, I know about your family back several generations.”

“You’ve had me investigated by the FBI?” Daniel demanded. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“But you should! Let me give you some high points of what has turned out to be a most interesting story. First of all, you are directly related to the famous New England Lowell family named in the famous description of Boston society where the Lowells only talk to the Cabots and the Cabots only talk to God. Or is it the other way around? Carol, can you help me here?”

“You have it right, Senator,” Carol said.

“I am relieved,” Ashley said. “I do not want to damage my credibility so early in my discourse. Unfortunately, Doctor, being related to the famous Lowells has been no help to you. It seems that your alcoholic grandfather was disowned and, more important, disinherited after defying the family wishes first by dropping out of prep school to join the army as a doughboy during World War I, then by marrying a commoner from Medford after his discharge. It seems that he had had such a devastating experience in Europe during his service that he was psychologically unable to reintegrate into privileged society. This, of course, was in sharp contrast to his brothers and sisters, who had not been to the war and who were enjoying the excesses of the roaring twenties and who, even if they too might have risked becoming alcoholics, were at least finishing their schooling and marrying socially acceptable spouses.”

“Senator, I’m not finding this amusing. Can we get to the point?”

“Patience, my friend,” Ashley said. “Let me bring the history to the present. It seems that your alcoholic paternal grandfather was also not a particularly good father or role model for his ten children, one of whom was your daddy. Like father like son is certainly applicable to your father, who suffered through service in World War II. Although he avoided alcoholism for the most part, he was hardly a good father or role model to his nine children, as I am sure you would agree. Happily, with your competitiveness, intellect, and opportunity to avoid a war experience in Vietnam, you have broken this generational self-fulfilling downward spiral, but not without some scars.”

“Senator, for the last time, unless you tell me what is on your mind in plain English, I will insist we be taken back to our hotel.”

“But I have told you,” Ashley stated. “When you first got into the car.”

“You’d better run it by me again,” Daniel sneered. “Apparently, it was so subtle I completely missed it.”

“I told you I was interested in your Aesculapian talents.”

“Evoking the Roman god of healing is still making this into a riddle that I have no patience for. Let’s be specific, particularly since you were talking about this being a negotiation.”

“Specifically, I want to barter your powers as a physician with my powers as a politician.”

“I am a researcher, not a practicing physician.”

“But you are a physician nonetheless, and the research you do is to cure people.”

“Keep talking.”

“What I am about to tell you is central to why we are here talking together. But I must have your absolute word as a gentleman that what I am about to tell you will remain confidential, irrespective of the outcome of this meeting.”

“If it is truly personal, I have no problem keeping it a secret.”

“Excellent! And Dr. D’Agostino! Do I have your word as well?”

“Of course,” Stephanie stammered, surprised at being suddenly addressed. She was twisted in her seat, looking back at the men. She’d been in that position ever since the senator had started talking about Daniel’s fear of failure.

Carol was struggling with her driving and had slowed considerably. Mesmerized by the conversation unfolding in the backseat, her eyes were more on Ashley’s image in the rearview mirror than on the road. She was certain she knew what Ashley was about to say and now had an inkling of Ashley’s plan. She was appalled.

Ashley cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I have been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. To make matters worse, my neurologist believes I have a rapidly progressive variant, which seems to be the case. On my last visit he even raised the specter the malady may soon begin to effect my cognitive abilities.”

For a few moments there was absolute silence in the car.

“How long have you known about this?” Daniel questioned. “I’ve not noticed any tremor.”

“About a year. The medication has helped, but as my neurologist predicted, it is rather quickly losing its effectiveness. Thus, my infirmity will soon become public knowledge unless something is done and done soon. I’m afraid my political career is at stake.”

“I hope this whole charade is not leading up to what I think it is,” Daniel stated.

“I imagine it is,” Ashley admitted. “Doctor, I want to be your guinea pig or, more precisely, your surrogate mouse. You’ve been having such good luck with your mice, as you proudly reported this morning.”

Daniel shook his head. “This is absurd! You want me to treat you like I have treated our mice!”

“Precisely, Doctor. Now, I knew you would not want to do it for a variety of reasons, and that is why this discussion is a negotiation.”

“It would be against the law,” Stephanie blurted. “The FDA would never allow it.”

“I was not intending to inform the FDA,” Ashley said calmly. “I know how meddlesome they can be on occasion.”

“It would have to be done in a hospital,” Stephanie said. “And without the FDA’s approval, no hospital would allow it.”

“No hospital in this country,” Ashley added. “Actually, I was thinking of the Bahamas. It is a rather nice time of the year to go to the Bahamas. Besides, there is a clinic there that would serve our needs beautifully. Six months ago, my Health Policy Subcommittee had a series of hearings on the inappropriate lack of regulation of infertility clinics in this country. A clinic by the name of Wingate came up during the hearings as an example of how some of these clinics are ignoring even minimal standards to make enormous profit. The Wingate Clinic had recently moved to New Providence Island to avoid the few laws applicable to their operation, which included some very questionable undertakings. But what had caught my attention particularly was that they were in the process of building a brand-spanking-new, twenty-first-century research center and hospital.”

“Senator, there are reasons medical research starts out with animals before moving on to humans. To do otherwise is unethical at best and foolish at worst. I cannot be part of such an undertaking.”

“I knew you would not be excited about the idea at first,” Ashley said. “Again, that is why this is a negotiation. You see, I am willing to promise you as a gentleman that my bill, S.1103, will never leave my subcommittee if you agree to treat me with your HTSR in total secrecy. That means that your second round of financing will come through and your company will go forward, and you will become the wealthy biotechnology celebrity entrepreneur that you aspire to be. As for myself, my political power is still ascendant and will remain so, provided this Parkinson’s threat is removed. So… as a consequence of each of us doing something we would rather not do, we both win.”

“What are you doing that you do not want to do?” Daniel questioned.

“I am accepting the risk of being a guinea pig,” Ashley stated. “I am the first to admit I wish our roles were reversed, but such is life. I am also risking political consequences from my conservative constituents who expect S.1103 to be voted out of subcommittee.”

Daniel shook his head in amazement. “This is preposterous,” he commented.

“But there is more,” Ashley said. “Knowing the degree of risk I am assuming in this new therapy, I do not think our exchange of services is equal. To rectify that imbalance and to help with the risk, I demand some divine intervention.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you mean by divine intervention.”

“As I understand it, if you were to treat me with your HTSR, you would need a segment of DNA from someone who does not have Parkinson’s disease.”

“That’s correct, but it doesn’t matter who the person is. There is no tissue matching involved, like with organ transplants.”

“It matters to me who the person is,” Ashley said. “I also understand you could get this little segment of DNA from blood?”

“I couldn’t get it from red blood cells, which have no nuclei,” Daniel said. “But I could get it from white cells, which you can always find in blood. So, yes, I could get it from blood.”

“Thank the good Lord for white blood cells,” Ashley said. “Now, the source of the blood is what has captured my interest. My father was a Baptist minister, but my mother, rest her soul, was an Irish Catholic. She taught me a few things that have stayed with me all my life. Let me ask you a question: Are you acquainted with the Shroud of Turin?”

Daniel glanced at Stephanie. A wry smile of disbelief had appeared on his face.

“I was raised a Catholic,” Stephanie offered. “I’m familiar with the Shroud of Turin.”

“I know what it is as well,” Daniel said. “It’s a religious relic purported to be the burial shroud of Jesus Christ, which was proven a fake about five years ago.”

“True,” Stephanie said. “But it was more than ten years ago. It was carbon-dated to the mid-thirteenth century.”

“I have no interest in the carbon-dating report,” Ashley said. “Especially since it was debunked by several eminent scientists. Even if the report had not been challenged, my interest would be the same. The shroud held a special place in my mama’s heart, and some of the devotion rubbed off on me when she took me and my two older brothers to Turin to be in its presence when I was no more than an impressionable moppet. Concerns about its authenticity aside, what is incontrovertible is that there are bloodstains on the cloth. Most everyone agrees about that. I want the little section of DNA needed for HTSR to come from the Shroud of Turin. That is my demand and my offer.”

Daniel laughed derisively. “This is more than preposterous. It’s crazy. Besides, how would I get a blood sample from the Shroud of Turin?”

“That is your responsibility, Doctor,” Ashley said. “But I am willing and able to help. I am certain I can get details about access to the shroud from one of my archbishop acquaintances, who are always willing to exchange favors for special political consideration. I happen to know there are samples of the shroud containing bloodstains that had been taken, given out, then recalled by the church. Perhaps one of those could be made available, but you would have to go and get it.”

“I’m speechless,” Daniel admitted, trying to suppress his amusement.

“That is entirely understandable,” Ashley said. “I am certain this opportunity I have proposed has caught you unawares. I do not expect you to respond immediately. As a thoughtful man, I was confident you would like to mull it over. My suggestion is that you call me, and I will give you a special number to call. But I would like to say that if I do not hear from you by ten o’clock tomorrow morning, I will assume you have decided not to take advantage of my offer. At ten o’clock, I will order my staff to schedule a subcommittee vote on S.1103 as soon as possible so that it can be moved on to the full committee and on to the Senate. And I already know the BIO lobby has informed you that S.1103 will pass with ease.”