Striding back from having delivered one of his famous undergraduate lectures, Edward entered his domain through one of the lab’s side doors. Like an animal feeder at a zoo he was immediately mobbed by his graduate students. They were all working on separate aspects of Edward’s overall goal of elucidating the mechanisms of short-and long-term memory. Each had a problem or a question that Edward answered in staccato fashion, sending them back to their benches to continue their research efforts.
With the last question answered, Edward strode over to his desk. He didn’t have a private office, a concept he disdained as a frivolous waste of needed space. He was content with a corner containing a work surface, a few chairs, a computer terminal, and a file cabinet. He was accompanied by his closest assistant, Eleanor Youngman, a postdoc who’d been with him for four years.
“You have a visitor,” Eleanor said as they arrived at Edward’s desk. “He’s waiting at the departmental secretary’s desk.”
Edward dumped his class materials and exchanged his tweed jacket for a white lab coat. “I don’t have time for visitors,” he said.
“I’m afraid this one you have to see,” Eleanor said.
Edward glanced at his assistant. She was sporting one of those smiles that suggested she was about to burst out laughing. Eleanor was a spirited, bright blonde from Oxnard, California, who looked like she belonged with the surfing set. Instead she had earned her Ph.D. in biochemistry from Berkeley by the tender age of twenty-three. Edward found her invaluable, not only because of her intelligence, but also because of her commitment. She worshiped Edward, convinced he would make the next quantum leap in understanding neurotransmitters and their role in emotion and memory.
“Who in heaven’s name is it?” Edward asked.
“It’s Stanton Lewis,” Eleanor said. “He cracks me up every time he comes in here. This time he told me he wants me to invest in a new chemistry magazine to be called Bonding with a foldout Molecule of the Month. I never know when he’s serious.”
“He’s not serious,” Edward said. “He’s flirting with you.”
Edward quickly glanced through his mail. There was nothing earth-shattering. “Any problems in the lab?” he asked Eleanor.
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “The new capillary electrophoresis system which we’ve been using for micellar electrokinetic capillary chromatography is being temperamental again. Should I call the rep from Bio-rad?”
“I’ll take a look at it,” he said. “Send Stanton over. I’ll take care of both problems at the same time.”
Edward attached his radiation dosimeter to the lapel of his coat and wound his way over to the chromatography unit. He began fiddling with the computer that ran the machine. Something definitely wasn’t right. The machine kept defaulting to its original setup menu.
Absorbed in what he was doing, Edward didn’t hear Stanton approach. He was unaware of his presence until Stanton slapped him on the back.
“Hey, sport!” Stanton said, “I’ve got a surprise for you that’s going to make your day.” He handed Edward a slick, plastic-covered brochure.
“What’s this?” Edward asked as he took the booklet.
“It’s what you’ve been waiting for: the Genetrix prospectus,” Stanton said.
Edward let out a chuckle and shook his head. “You’re too much,” he said. He put the prospectus aside and redirected his attention to the chromatography unit computer.
“How’d your date with nurse Kim go?” Stanton asked.
“I enjoyed meeting your cousin,” Edward said. “She’s a terrific woman.”
“Did you guys sleep together?” Stanton asked.
Edward spun around. “That’s hardly an appropriate question.”
“My goodness,” Stanton said with a big smile. “Rather touchy I’d say. Translated that means you guys hit it off, otherwise you wouldn’t be so sensitive.”
“I think you are jumping to conclusions,” Edward said with a stutter.
“Oh, come off it,” Stanton said. “I know you too well. It’s the same way you were in medical school. Anything to do with the lab or science, you’re like Napoleon. When it comes to women you’re like wet spaghetti. I don’t understand it. But anyway, come clean. You guys hit it off, didn’t you?”
“We enjoyed each other’s company,” Edward admitted. “In fact, we had dinner Friday night.”
“Perfect,” Stanton said. “As far as I’m concerned that’s as good as sleeping together.”
“Don’t be so crass.”
“Truly,” Stanton said cheerfully. “The idea was to get you beholden to me and now you are. The price, my dear friend, is that you have to read this prospectus.” Stanton lifted the brochure from where Edward had irreverently tossed it. He handed it back to Edward.
Edward groaned. He realized he’d given himself away. “All right,” he said. “I’ll read the blasted thing.”
“Good,” Stanton said. “You should know something about the company because I’m also in a position to offer you seventy-five thousand dollars a year plus stock options to be on the scientific advisory board.”
“I don’t have time to go to any damn meetings,” Edward said.
“Who’s asking you to come to any meetings,” Stanton said. “I just want your name on the IPO offering.”
“But why?” Edward asked. “Molecular biology and biotech are not my bailiwick.”
“Chrissake!” Stanton said. “How can you be so innocent? You’re a scientific celebrity. It doesn’t matter you know clit about molecular biology. It’s your name that counts.”
“I wouldn’t say I know clit about molecular biology,” Edward said irritably.
“Now don’t get touchy with me,” Stanton said. Then he pointed to the machine Edward was working on. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a capillary electrophoresis unit,” Edward said.
“What the hell does it do?”
“It’s a relatively new separation technology,” Edward said. “It’s used to separate and identify compounds.”
Stanton fingered the molded plastic of the central unit. “What makes it new?”
“It’s not entirely new,” Edward said. “The principles are basically the same as conventional electrophoresis, but the narrow diameter of the capillaries precludes the necessity of an anticonvection agent because heat dissipation is so efficient.”
Stanton raised his hand in mock self-defense. “Enough,” he said. “I give up. You’ve overwhelmed me. Just tell me if it works.”
“It works great,” Edward said. He looked back at the machine. “At least it usually works great. At the moment something is wrong.”
“Is it plugged in?” Stanton asked.
Edward shot him an exasperated look.
“Just trying to be helpful,” Stanton joked.
Edward raised the top of the machine and peered in at the carousels. Immediately he saw that one of the capped sample vials was blocking the carousel’s movement. “Well, isn’t this pleasant,” he said. “The thrill of the positive diagnosis of a remedial problem.” He adjusted the vial. The carousel immediately advanced. Edward closed the lid.
“So I can count on you to read the prospectus,” Stanton said. “And think about the offer.”
“The idea of getting money for nothing bothers me,” Edward said.
“But why?” Stanton said. “If star athletes can sign on with sneaker companies, why can’t scientists do the equivalent?”
“I’ll think about it,” Edward said.
“That’s all I can ask,” Stanton said. “Give me a call after you read the prospectus. I’m telling you, I can make you some money.”
“Did you drive over here?” Edward asked.
“No, I walked from Concord,” Stanton said. “Of course I drove. What a feeble attempt at changing the subject.”
“How about giving me a lift over to the main Harvard campus,” Edward said.
Five minutes later Edward slid into the passenger seat of Stanton’s 500 SEL Mercedes. Stanton started the engine and made a quick U turn. He’d parked on Huntington Avenue near the Countway Medical Library. They traveled around the Fenway and then along Storrow Drive.