‘I’m sure they will. That’s why we’ll have to make sure the data is absolutely watertight. We mustn’t give the reviewers any reason at all to turn it down. I’m going to repeat all the experiments, starting tomorrow. Frank’s going to investigate the possibility of setting up a couple of experiments to treat tumours in lab animals with what supplies of Valdevan we’ve got left — that would really make the point.’
‘How much do you have?’
‘They sent me six five-gram vials the last time I asked. I think we can safely assume that’s the last they’ll give us.’
‘If the animal experiments work out, surely not even Grumman Schalk could go on ignoring it.’
‘Don’t you believe it. They’ll probably say that experiments in animals are not necessary a valid indication of what will happen in humans. But we’ll deal with that shit when it happens. Let’s talk about something happy for a change.’
‘What would make you happy, Gav?’
‘Beer... bacon crisps... sex...’
‘If you were a swimming pool, Gavin, you’d have two shallow ends,’ said Caroline.
Something of a siege mentality developed over the following days and weeks in the Simmons lab. Whereas a few weeks before they had been fêted as the lab who’d come up with some really exciting results, they were now being regarded by others in the department as the group that was threatening a huge influx of research funds through their sheer obstinacy and unwillingness to see reason. Sure, Gavin Donnelly’s experiments were interesting — possibly exciting — but one postgrad student’s results were no reason to damage everyone else’s research prospects. That was just plain selfish according to Peter Morton-Brown, who led the whispering campaign among the younger members of the department. Mary and Tom came under particular pressure in the common room to try to make Frank and Gavin see that delaying making their findings public until after the block grant had been agreed would be the decent, sensible thing to do.
‘And how long do they imagine Grumman Schalk would like the delay to be?’ was Simmons’ icy response when Mary told him.
‘Quite a while?’
‘Try forever.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Gavin, who’d been working at the bench. The others turned to look at him. ‘It’s my bet that Grumman’s people are already working night and day to come up with a single compound that exploits the idea behind the combination of Valdevan and polymyxin.’
‘And make squillions,’ said Mary.
‘What d’you think their chances are?’ asked Tom.
‘Impossible to say,’ said Gavin. ‘If they could do it in a relatively short time, I think I’d be happy to chuck this in and say good luck to them. But there are no guarantees; it could be several years, maybe never. I don’t want to go on sitting on this, knowing that folks could be benefiting from it right now.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Mary.
Simmons had bad news for them the following day. ‘The request for permission to carry out animal experiments has been declined.’
‘Why?’ asked Gavin.
‘They say that the Valdevan we were given by Grumman Schalk is not for therapeutic use. It says so on the specification form that came with it.’
‘But there’s nothing wrong with it,’ said Gavin. ‘The spec sheet also shows that it passed all its purity tests. The warning is there just because they sent unsterile powder instead of a sealed injection vial. They must know that we would sterilise any solution before it was used.’
‘Look, we all know this is an excuse,’ said Simmons, holding up his hands. ‘But there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it. The powers that be have dug their heels in and that’s that.’
‘Shit,’ said Gavin. ‘Throw a six to restart.’
‘We can still go to print. The animal experiments would have been a bonus, but the cell culture data will stand up on its own. How are the repeat experiments coming along?’
‘No problems, exactly the same results as last time. The data’s going to be rock solid.’
‘When will you be finished?’
‘End of next week.’
On the Wednesday of the following week Gavin let out a string of expletives as he routinely examined his Valdevan-treated cells before adding polymyxin. It was the final experiment, the final hurdle, and suddenly he felt himself falling. The tumour cells were already dead.
‘What the... I don’t believe it.’
Mary came across to take a look and then Tom.
‘Not much doubt about that,’ said Tom. ‘Maybe the growth rate was too fast. Are you sure you didn’t use the wrong culture medium?’
‘No way,’ said Gavin. ‘I only use one these days and I make it up myself. There should only have been blips in the cell membrane... and no effect at all on normal cells...’ He paused while he changed the culture under the microscope. ‘Shit, they’re dead too.’
‘My God, this is a real show stopper,’ murmured Mary. ‘If there’s any chance at all of killing normal cells with Valdevan... you can’t use this. You’ll kill the patients.’
Gavin looked bemused. ‘I just don’t understand it. This is just plain crazy.’
‘Strikes me Valdevan has a history of throwing up odd results,’ said Tom. ‘You’d better tell Frank.’
Frank Simmons examined the cultures for himself and joined the long faces in the lab. ‘I hope we all have a taste for penitence,’ he said. ‘If we can’t explain this, we could be eating dirt round here for some time to come.’ He looked at Gavin. ‘Are you absolutely sure you couldn’t have added too much drug or used the wrong culture medium?’
‘I’m certain.’
‘Couldn’t you repeat it?’ said Tom.
‘No point,’ said Simmons. ‘Even if he did it a hundred more times and got the result he was looking for, it wouldn’t make this result disappear. It’s going to sit there in the data like an indelible stain, putting a stop to everything. It’s an explanation that’s needed. That’s the only way to get rid of it.’
‘I don’t think I have one,’ said Gavin.
‘I don’t suppose it was an old solution of the drug that could have broken down or something...’ suggested Mary, without much conviction.
Gavin shook his head, but fetched the bottle from the fridge and read out the date he’d written on the label when he’d made it up. Almost automatically, he held up the bottle to the light and shook the contents to check how much was left. He was about to return it to the fridge when something made him repeat the gesture. He had a puzzled look on his face.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Mary.
‘How much would you say was in there?’
Mary took the bottle. ‘About 3 mil?’ she said.
‘That’s too much,’ said Gavin, apparently carrying out a quick calculation in his head. ‘There shouldn’t be that much.’ He removed the top from the bottle and sniffed the contents. ‘Smells of swimming pools... chlorine.’
The others agreed in turn.
‘Indicator paper,’ muttered Gavin, as he started a hunt through the lab drawers, ‘We need indic...’ He finally brought out a small book of pH indicator strips.
The others looked on as he used a Gilson pipette to remove a small sample of the solution and drop it on to a strip of the indicator paper. The immediate colour change was dramatic. Gavin compared it to the comparison chart and said, ‘pH less than 2.5. It should be 7.2. Somebody’s added acid to it... hydrochloric by the smell...’
‘Well, well, well,’ said Simmons, caught somewhere between bemusement, outrage and relief. ‘What do you know? We have our explanation. It was a deliberate act of sabotage.’
Everyone seemed stunned. Mary was the first to break the silence. ‘At least we don’t have to search far for a motive. The department is full of people who don’t want Gavin’s work to be published.’