“I am,” Stephanie said. “They are definitely dopamine-producing neurons, and they are…” She paused as if searching for the right word, “… vigorous.”
“Vigorous?” Ashley questioned. “Hmmm. I’ll assume that is advantageous, although it sounds rather vague to this layman. But tell me: Do they all contain genes from the Shroud of Turin?”
“Most assuredly!” Daniel answered. “But it was not without considerable effort on our part to get the shroud sample, extract the DNA, and reconstruct the necessary genes from fragments. Yet we did it.”
“I want to be sure about this,” Ashley said. “I know there is no way for me to check, but I want to be certain. It is important to me.”
“The genes we used for HTSR are from the blood on the Shroud of Turin,” Daniel said. “I give you my solemn oath.”
“I will take your word as a true gentleman,” Ashley said, his accent suddenly returning. With great effort, he got his bulky, stiff body up from the couch to a standing position. He extended his hand toward Daniel, who had also gotten to his feet. Once again they shook hands.
“For the rest of my life, I shall be beholden to your efforts and scientific creativity,” Ashley said.
“As I shall be to your leadership and political genius in not banning HTSR,” Daniel responded.
A wry smile slowly spread across Ashley’s otherwise expressionless face. “I like a man with a sense of humor.” He let go of Daniel’s hand and then extended his toward Stephanie, who’d stood when Daniel had.
Stephanie regarded the proffered hand for a moment, as if debating whether to take it or not. Ultimately, she did and felt her own hand enveloped by Ashley’s in a surprisingly powerful grip. After a stiff, prolonged shake and an extended moment of staring into the senator’s unblinking eyes, she tried to retrieve her hand, without success. Ashley held on firmly. Although Stephanie could have guessed the episode was a reflection of the senator’s Parkinson’s disease, her immediate reaction was sudden, irrational fear of being permanently ensnared by the man as a metaphor of her involvement in the whole madcap affair.
“My heartfelt gratitude for your efforts as well, Dr. D’Agostino,” Ashley said. “And, as a gentleman, I feel I must make a confession of being enchanted by your considerable beauty from the first moment I had the pleasure of seeing you.” Only then did his sausage-shaped fingers slowly release their formidable hold on Stephanie’s hand.
Stephanie clasped her now closed fist against her chest, lest Ashley try to grab her again. She knew she was continuing to be irrational, but she couldn’t help herself. At least she managed a nod and a half smile in acknowledgment of the senator’s compliment and professed gratitude.
“Now,” Ashley stated. “I demand you doctors get a good night’s rest. I want you both well rested for tomorrow’s procedure, which you have led me to assume will not be a lengthy affair. Is that a fair assumption?”
“My guess would be an hour, perhaps a little more,” Daniel said.
“Glory be! A little more than an hour is all that modern biotechnology needs to bring this boy back from the precipice and career disaster. I am impressed. Praise be to the Lord on high!”
“Most of the time will be spent fitting you with the stereotaxic frame,” Daniel explained. “The actual implantation will only take a few minutes.”
“There you go again,” Ashley complained. “More incomprehensible doctor’s jargon. What in heaven’s name is a stereotaxic frame?”
“It is a calibrated frame that fits over your head like a crown. It will enable Dr. Nawaz to inject the treatment cells into the exact location where you have lost your own dopamine-producing cells.”
“I’m not at all certain I should be asking this,” Ashley said hesitantly. “Am I to believe you will be injecting the treatment cells directly into my brain and not into a vein?”
“That’s correct,” Daniel started to explain.
“Hold it right there!” Ashley interrupted. “I’m afraid at this point the less I know, the better. I am an admittedly squeamish patient, especially without being put to sleep. Pain and I have never been compatible bedfellows.”
“There will be no pain,” Daniel assured the senator. “The brain has no sensation itself.”
“But a needle has to go into my brain?” Ashley asked in disbelief.
“A blunt needle, to avoid any damage.”
“How in God’s name do you get a needle into someone’s brain?”
“A little hole will be made through the bone. The approach in your case will be prefrontal.”
“Prefrontal? That’s more doctor gobbledygook.”
“It means through the forehead,” Daniel explained, pointing to his own forehead just above his eyebrow. “Remember, there will be no pain. You will feel vibration when the hole is made, somewhat like an old-fashioned dental drill, provided you are not asleep from the sedation, which happens to be a strong possibility.”
“Why aren’t I going to be definitely asleep through all this?”
“The neurosurgeon wants you awake during the actual implantation.”
Ashley sighed. “That’s quite enough!” he remarked, raising a trembling hand protectively. “I felt better laboring under the delusion the treatment cells went into a vein like a bone-marrow implant.”
“It would not work for neurons.”
“That’s unfortunate, but I will deal with it. Meanwhile, tell me my alias again!”
“John Smith,” Daniel said.
“Of course! How could I have forgotten? And you, Dr. D’Agostino, shall be my Pocahontas.”
Stephanie managed another weak smile.
“Now!” Ashley said, marshaling his enthusiasm. “It’s time for this old country boy to put the concerns of his infirmity aside and head down to the casino. I have an important date with a group of one-armed bandits.”
A few minutes later, Daniel and Stephanie were on their way down the hall en route to their room. Stephanie acknowledged their bodyguard as they passed, but Daniel didn’t. Daniel was demonstrably irritated, as evidenced by the way he slammed the door when they entered. Their suite was half the size of Ashley’s. It had the same view but without the balcony.
“Vigorous! Give me a break!” Daniel snapped. He’d stopped just inside the door with his hands on his hips. “You couldn’t think of some better description of our treatment cells than ‘vigorous’? What were you doing in there-trying to get him to back out at this juncture? To top it off, you acted like you didn’t even want to shake his hand.”
“I didn’t,” Stephanie said. She went over to their single couch and sat down.
“And why the hell not? Good God!”
“I don’t respect him, and as I’ve said ad nauseam, I don’t have a good feeling about all of this.”
“It was like you were being passive-aggressive in there, pausing before answering simple questions.”
“Look! I did my best. I didn’t want to lie. Remember, I didn’t even want to go in there. You insisted.”
Daniel breathed out noisily. He stared at Stephanie. “Sometimes you can be aggravating.”
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie said. “It’s hard for me to pretend. And on the subject of aggravation, you don’t do so bad yourself. Next time you are tempted to say ‘good girl’ to me, restrain yourself.”
twenty-four
10:22 A.M., Sunday, March 24, 2002
If, over the years, going to a physician had become emotionally difficult for Ashley Butler because of its unwanted reminder of his mortality, going into a hospital was worse, and his arrival at the Wingate Clinic had been no exception. As much as he joked about his generic alias with Carol in the limo en route and used his Southern charm on the nurses and technicians during admission, he was terrified. The thin veneer of his apparent insouciance was particularly challenged when he met the neurosurgeon, Dr. Rashid Nawaz. He was not as Ashley had pictured, despite having been told his plainly ethnic name. Prejudice had always played a role in Ashley’s thinking, and it was operative now. In his mind, brain surgeons were supposed to be tall, serious, and commanding figures, preferably of Nordic heritage. Instead, he was confronted by a short, slight, dark-skinned individual with even darker lips and eyes. On the positive side was a lilting English accent that reflected his Oxford training. Also on the positive side was an aura of confidence and professionalism leavened with compassion. The man recognized and sympathized with Ashley’s plight as a patient facing an unorthodox treatment and was gently reassuring, telling Ashley the upcoming procedure was not at all difficult.