“I was hoping you’d see this affair from my perspective. I was afraid you might feel it was worth it just to work with this renowned researcher.”
“Hell, no!” Paul snapped. “Not when we can’t get the promotional benefits we expected. He’s even implied we’re not going to get hands-on instruction in HTSR when he said he’d be doing his own cellular work. Originally, I thought that was a given. I still want to learn the procedure, though, so when he calls back, mention that that has to be part of the package.”
“I’ll be happy to tell him,” Spencer said. “I’m also going to tell him we want half of the money up front.”
“Tell him we also want special consideration in the future on licensing HTSR.”
“That’s a good idea,” Spencer said. “I’ll see what I can do about essentially renegotiating our deal without upping the cash. I don’t want to scare him off. Meanwhile, how about you taking responsibility for trying to find the identity of the patient? That’s a kind of activity you are better at than I.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as a compliment.”
Paul stood up. “I’ll get Kurt Hermann, our security chief, right on it. He loves this kind of assignment.”
“Tell the dishonorably discharged Green Beret, or whatever the hell he was, to kill as few people as possible. After all this investment and effort, let’s not wear out our welcome on the island.”
Paul laughed. “He’s really very careful and conservative.”
“That’s not my take,” Spencer said. He held up his hands to ward off an argument. “I don’t think the whores on Okinawa he knocked off would call him conservative, and he was a bit heavy-handed up in Massachusetts in our employ, but we’ve been over this. I admit he’s good at what he does, otherwise he wouldn’t still be on the staff. Just humor me and tell him to be discreet! That’s all I ask.”
“I’ll be happy to tell him.” Paul stood up. “But remember, since none of us, including Kurt, can go back to the States, he probably won’t be able to accomplish much until Daniel, his team, and the patient get here.”
“I don’t expect miracles,” Spencer said.
seven
4:45 P.M., Friday, February 22, 2002
The sawtooth spires of the Manhattan skyline were silhouetted against the darkening midwinter sky as the Washington- New York shuttle descended in its final approach to LaGuardia Airport. The lights of the sprawling, pulsating city sparkled like so many jewels in the gathering gloom. Those of the many suspension bridges appeared like necklaces of illuminated pearls slung between the soaring stanchions. The undulating rows of headlights on the FDR Drive resembled strings of diamonds, while the taillights suggested rubies. A gaily bedecked cruise ship looked like a brooch, as it silently slid into a docking on the Hudson River.
Carol Manning turned from staring out the window at the inspiring scene to glance around the interior of the plane. There was no conversation. Oblivious to the majestic vista, the commuters were all absorbed by their newspapers, work documents, or laptops. Her eyes wandered to the senator seated in her row on the aisle one seat away. Like the other passengers, he was reading. His bulky hands gripped the stack of memoranda concerning the following day’s agenda he’d snatched from Dawn Shackelton as he and Carol had bolted from the office in hopes of catching the three-thirty shuttle flight. They’d made it with seconds to spare.
At Ashley’s insistence, Carol had phoned one of the cardinal’s personal secretaries that morning to set up an impromptu meeting that afternoon. She was instructed to say it concerned an urgent matter but would only take fifteen minutes at most. Father Maloney had said he’d see what he could do since the cardinal’s schedule was full, but he’d called back within the hour to say that the cardinal could see the senator sometime between five-thirty and six-thirty, following a formal reception for a visiting Italian cardinal and before a dinner with the mayor. Carol had said they’d be there.
Under the circumstances of having to run for the plane and worrying about the potential New York City traffic, Carol couldn’t help but be impressed with Ashley’s apparent equanimity. Of course, he had her to do his worrying for him, but had their roles been reversed and she had been facing what he was potentially facing, she would have been inordinately anxious, to the point of finding concentration difficult. But certainly not Ashley! Despite a slight tremor the individual pages of his memoranda were being rapidly scanned and flipped back in swift succession, suggesting his legendary reading speed had not suffered due to his illness or to the events of the previous twenty-four hours.
Carol cleared her throat. “Senator, the more I think about this current affair, the more surprised I am that you haven’t asked my opinion. You ask my opinion about most everything else.”
Ashley turned his head and gazed at Carol over the tops of his heavy-rimmed glasses that had slid down to perch on the very tip of his nose. His broad forehead was wrinkled condescendingly. “Carol, dearest,” he began. “You do not have to tell me your opinion. As I indicated last evening, I am already well aware of it.”
“Then I hope you are aware that I think you will be taking too big a risk with this supposed treatment.”
“I appreciate your solicitousness, no matter what the motivation, but my mind is firm.”
“You’re allowing yourself to be experimented upon. You have no idea what the outcome will be.”
“It may be true that I do not know the outcome for sure, but it is also true that if I were to do nothing in the face of my progressive, otherwise incurable neurological degenerative disease, I know exactly what the outcome would be. My daddy preached that the Good Lord helps those who help themselves. All my life I have been a fighter, and I am surely not going to stop now. I am not going out with a whimper. I will be kicking and screaming like a bagged polecat.”
“What if the cardinal were to tell you what you are planning is inadvisable?”
“Such a response is hardly likely, since I have no intention in the slightest of informing the cardinal of my intentions.”
“Then why are we coming here?” Carol said in a tone that was close to anger. “I was hoping His Eminence could appeal to your better judgment during your discussions.”
“We are not making this pilgrimage to the seat of North American Catholic continental power for counsel but rather merely to arrange for a piece of the Shroud of Turin as a hopeful hedge against the uncertainties of my therapy.”
“But how do you intend to get access to the shroud without explaining why?”
Ashley held up one of his hands like an orator quieting an unruly crowd. “Enough, my dear Carol, lest your presence be more of a burden than assistance.” He shifted his attention back to his papers as the plane headed for landing.
A flush of heat spread across Carol’s face at being summarily dismissed. Such degrading treatment was becoming all too common, as was her associated irritation. Concerned her feelings would be apparent, she faced back out the window.
As the plane moved toward the gate, Carol kept her attention directed outside the aircraft. Up close, New York was no longer jewellike, thanks to a smattering of litter and scattered piles of dirty snow lining the taxiway. As befitted the dark, bleak scene, she fretted about her conflicting emotions and her guilt concerning Ashley’s plan to deal with his infirmity. On the one hand, she was legitimately fearful of its experimental nature, while on the other hand, she thought the therapy might work. Although her initial reaction to Ashley’s diagnosis had been appropriate sympathy, over the course of the year she’d come to see it also as her opportunity. Now the fear of a bad outcome competed equally with the fear of a good one, even though she had trouble admitting it to herself. In some sense, she felt like a Brutus to Ashley’s Caesar.