Gavin smiled and felt a tingle of excitement as the door closed and he was finally alone in the lab. He brought out the drugs from the fridge and made up sterile solutions — seeing it as the first step on the road... to what? But this was why he’d gone into research. This was the tingle that said it was the best job in the world. Ultimately, it would be researchers who would uncover the secrets of life on earth. It would be they who’d uncover the meaning of it all — where we came from, where we were going and, even more importantly, why. As far as Gavin was concerned, every other job on the planet was just part of a network of service industries, required only to keep the machinery of discovery moving along.
There was a limit to how much he could do on this, his first evening. It was more a case of getting things up and running, but taking the first step of any journey was exciting. Before he could test the action of polymyxin on tumour cells he would need a supply of them, treated with Valdevan and displaying the characteristic membrane blips. This would take a couple of days, but they should be ready by the weekend when the lab would be quiet and he would have more time to experiment without anyone asking what he was doing. Everything was up and running by eight thirty. The Valdevan-treated cells had been placed in the incubator and a range of polymyxin solutions sat in the fridge.
He would have enough in the way of cell cultures for the initial experiments, but would have to order up some more from Trish for the next stage. The tumour cells, which he was also using for the biochemistry, would not pose a problem. Ordering up supplies of normal cells might raise an eyebrow or two when the monthly grant accounts came in, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. In any case, he would have his results by then.
He called Caroline to ask how her exam had gone.
‘Okay, I think,’ she replied. ‘I must have taken in more than I thought.’
‘Look, I’m sort of assuming you’re going home this weekend?’ he added tentatively.
‘Sounds like you’re planning to work,’ said Caroline, but not unkindly. ‘But yes, I think I will. I’ll be starting a new module next week so it’s probably a good time to go. How did it go this evening?’
‘Things are up and running but it’ll take a couple of days before the cells are ready to test. That’s what I’ll be doing at the weekend.’
‘God, it would be so fantastic if it worked.’
‘Fingers crossed.’
Gavin was in the lab by 6 a.m. on Saturday morning when he knew it would be quiet. Others — mainly grad students — would come in and out throughout the day to check on experiments and set up cultures, but that probably wouldn’t start happening until after ten. Student Saturdays usually started with hangovers. His heart was in his mouth when he took out the Valdevan cultures and examined them under the inverted microscope, but everything was fine. He could see the membrane blips.
It was time for the moment of truth. He took the polymyxin solution from the fridge and filled a small syringe, knowing exactly how much he was going to inject because he’d done the calculation in his head a hundred times since Wednesday. He pressed the plunger and rocked the tube gently to and fro before placing it back under the scope.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ he exclaimed as he watched the tumour cells rupture and die before his eyes. Within seconds he was left with little more than rafts of cell debris drifting across his field of view among the ghosts of the membranes which had once contained it. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he murmured. ‘Things this good don’t happen to me...’
Gavin controlled his impulse to get up and dance around the lab but recognised that he had only cleared the first hurdle. The Valdevan-treated cells were wonderfully sensitive to damage by polymyxin but the question now was, were they more sensitive than normal cells? If healthy cells should behave in the same way, there was nothing to get excited about and it would all be a wild goose chase, but polymyxin-based drugs had been used in the past to treat bacterial infections without any report of tissue damage, although they had shown other toxic side effects — the reason their use had largely been confined to topical application in modern times.
First, he would establish the minimum concentration of polymyxin necessary to kill tumour cells. He brought out another cell culture and this time injected it with a smaller dose — half the previous concentration, but the result was the same. Keeping a grip on his emotions was proving more and more difficult as he halved the concentration yet again and still saw immediate signs of cell death. Surely healthy cells could not possibly behave this way in the presence of so little drug?
Gavin couldn’t resist finding out any longer. He fetched one of the primary cell cultures from the incubator and injected it with the smallest dose of polymyxin he’d used so far. There was absolutely no reaction: the healthy cells remained completely unaffected.
He was aware of the thump of his heart as he doubled the concentration and got the same result. ‘Bingo!’ he exclaimed. There was a big difference between the sensitivity of tumour cells and normal ones. Right now, he could do what no one else in the world could do. He could specifically target and kill cancer cells.
He allowed himself to ponder this for more than a minute, savouring the moment and revelling in the feeling of achievement, before looking for reasons not to believe his results. He couldn’t think of any off-hand, although he did recognise that this was lab science and still might not translate into the treatment of patients, but this was a dream start.
He couldn’t resist carrying out one more ‘show-biz’ experiment before going back to the discipline of establishing the minimum dose of polymyxin necessary to kill cancer cells. This was to mix tumour and normal cells together in the same test tube and add polymyxin. It worked like a dream. The tumour cells with the membrane blips died: the healthy cells without the blips did not.
Gavin called Caroline on her mobile. ‘Where are you?’
‘Waverley station. Where are you?’
‘In the lab. It works! I can kill tumour cells without damaging healthy ones.’
‘Oh, Gavin, I’m so pleased for you. That is bloody brilliant,’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘I’m so sorry for ever doubting you.’
Gavin found himself competing with the station announcer who was announcing a London train departure. ‘It works like a dream!’ he shouted.
‘That’s absolutely wonderful, Gavin. I’m so glad for you. Call me later and tell me all about it. Oh, I’m so pleased for you, Gav. Got to run; my train’s leaving.’
‘Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
Gavin got up from his seat, clenched his fists together, looked up at the ceiling and yelled out, ‘Bloody brilliant!’
‘What is?’ asked Mary Hollis as she came in through the door.
Gavin was overcome by embarrassment. ‘I just got a good result,’ he stammered.
Mary looked puzzled. ‘Already? You only started the biochemistry on Monday.’
Gavin’s silence brought a suspicious look to Mary’s eyes. She saw the cell cultures sitting on Gavin’s bench. ‘You’re not still working on Valdevan, are you?’ she asked in disbelief.
Gavin shrugged. ‘Just at evenings and weekends,’ he tried, with a mock apologetic look, and Mary smiled. ‘Gavin, you really are something else.’
‘I’m just curious.’
‘So what’s so “bloody brilliant” or shouldn’t I ask?’
Gavin looked at her for a moment as if undecided whether to say anything or not. ‘I think I know how to kill tumours without harming healthy tissue.’
This seemed a bit much for Mary who sank down into her seat. ‘Just like that,’ she said. ‘You’re telling me you can cure cancer?’