"I'm glad you found time for him," Celia said.”You thought you might not.”
After an hour's drive through more countryside, in bright sunshine, they entered Trumpington Street, Cambridge, soon after midday.”This is a lovely, venerable town," Sam said.”That's Peterhouse on your left-the oldest college. Have you been here before?"
Celia, fascinated by a succession of ancient, historic buildings cheek by jowl, answered, "Never.”
Sam had stopped en route to telephone and arrange luncheon at the Garden House Hotel. Martin Peat-Smith would join them there. The picturesque hotel was in an idyllic location, close to the "Backs"-the landscaped gardens that provide a superb rear view of many colleges-and alongside the River Cam on which boaters in punts poled their leisurely, sometimes uncertain way. In the hotel lobby Peat-Smith spotted them first and came forward. Celia had a swift impression of a stocky, solidly built young man with a shock of untidy blond hair that needed trimming, and a sudden, boyish smile that creased a rugged, square-jawed face. Whatever else Peat-Smith might be, she thought, he wasn't handsome. But she had a sense of facing a strong, purposeful personality. "Mrs. Jordan and Mr. Hawthorne, I presume?" The incisive, cultured but unaffected voice matched Peat-Smith's ingenuous appearance. "That's right," Celia responded.”Except, in terms of importance, it's the other way around.”
The quick smile once more.”I'll try to remember that.”
As they all shook hands, Celia noticed Peat-Smith was wearing an old Harris Tweed jacket with patched elbows and frayed cuffs, and unpressed, stained gray slacks. Instantly reading her mind, he said without embarrassment, "I came directly from the lab, Mrs. Jordan. I do own a suit. If we meet out of working hours, I'll wear it.”
Celia flushed.”I'm embarrassed. I apologize for my rudeness.”
"No need.”
He smiled disarmingly.”I just like to clear things UP.”
"A good habit," Sam pronounced.”Shall we go in to lunch?" At their table, which provided a view of a rose garden and the river beyond, they ordered drinks. Celia, as usual, had a daiquiri, Sam a martini, Peat-Smith a glass of white wine. "I have a report from Dr. Lord about your current research," Sam said. "I understand you've asked for a grant from Felding-Roth which would let you continue it.”
"That's right," Peat-Smith acknowledged.”My project-the study of, mental aging and Alzheimer's disease-is out of money.
The university doesn't have any, at least not for allocation to me, so I've bad to took elsewhere.”
Sam assured him, "That's not unusual. Our company does give grants for academic research if we think it's worthwhile, so let's talk about it.”
"All right.”
For the first time Dr. Peat-Smith showed a trace of nervousness, probably, Celia thought, because a grant was important to him. He asked, "To start with Alzheimer's-how much do you know about it?" "Very little," Sam said.”So assume we know nothing.”
The young scientist nodded.”It isn't one of the fashionable diseases-at least, not yet. Also there's no knowledge, only theories, about what causes it.”
"Doesn't it affect old people mostly?" Celia asked. "Those over fifty-yes; more particularly the age group over sixty-five. But Alzheimer's can affect someone younger. There have been cases in people aged twenty-seven.”
Peat-Smith sipped his wine, then continued.”The disease begins gradually, with lapses of memory. People forget simple things, like how to tie their shoelaces, or what a light switch is for, or where they usually sit at mealtime. Then, as it gets worse, more and more memory goes. Often the person can't identify anyone, even their husband or wife. They may forget how to eat and have to be fed; when thirsty, they may not know enough to ask for water. They're often incontinent, in bad cases violent and destructive. Eventually they die of the disease, but that takes ten to fifteen years-years which are hardest on anyone living with an Alzheimer's victim.”
Peat-Smith paused, then told them, "What goes on in the brain can be seen after autopsy. Alzheimer's hits nerve cells in the cortex -where senses and memory are housed. It twists and severs nerve fibers and filaments. It litters the brain with tiny bits of a substance called plaque.”
"I've read something about your research," Sam said, "but I'd like you to tell us yourself what direction you're taking.”
"A genetic direction. And because there are no animal models for Alzheirner's--so far as we know, no animal gets the diseasemy studies with animals are on the chemistry of the mental aging process. As you're aware, I'm a nucleic acid chemist.”
"My chemistry is a little rusty," Celia said, "but as I understand nucleic acids, they're the 'building blocks' of DNA which make up our genes.”
"Correct, and not so rusty.”
Peat-Smith smiled.”And it's likely that big future medical advances will come when we understand the chemistry of DNA better, showing us how genes work and why they sometimes go wrong. That's what I'm researching now, using young and old rats, trying to find differences, varying with age, between the animals' mRNA-messenger ribonucleic acid-which is a template made from their DNA.”
Sam interjected, "But Alzheimer's disease and the normal aging process are two separate things, right?" "It appears so, but there may be overlapping areas.”
As PeatSmith paused, Celia could sense him organizing his thoughts, as a teacher would, into simpler, less scientific words than he was accustomed to using. "An Alzheimer's victim may have had, at birth, an aberration in his DNA, which contains his coded genetic information. However, someone else, born with more normal DNA, can change that DNA by damaging its environment, the human body. Through smoking, for example, or a harmful diet. For a while, our built-in DNA repair mechanism will take care of that, but as we get older the genetic repair system may slow down or fail entirely. Part of what I'm searching for is a reason for that slowing...”
At the end of the explanation, Celia said, "You're a natural teacher. You enjoy teaching, don't you?" Peat-Smith appeared surprised.”Doing some teaching is expected at a university. But, yes, I enjoy it.”
Another facet of this man's interesting personality, Celia thought. She said, "I'm beginning to understand the questions. How far are you from answers?" "Perhaps light-years away. On the other hand we might be close.”
Peat-Smith flashed his genuine smile.”That's a risk that grant givers take.”
A maAre d' brought menus and they paused to decide about lunch. When they had chosen, Peat-Smith said, "I hope you'll visit my laboratory. I can explain better there what I'm trying to do.”
"We were counting on that," Sam said.”Right after lunch.”
While they were eating, Celia asked, "W hat is your status at Cambridge, Dr. Peat-Smith?" "I have an appointment as a lecturer; that's more or less equivalent to assistant professor in America. What it means is that I get lab space in the Biochemistry Building, a technician to help me, and freedom to do research of my choice.”
He stopped, then added, "Freedom, that is, if I can get financial backing.”
"About the grant we're speaking of," Sam said.”I believe the amount suggested was sixty thousand dollars.”
"Yes. It would be over three years, and is the least I can get by on -to buy equipment and animals, employ three full-time technicians, and conduct experiments. There's nothing in there for me personally.”
Peat-Smith grimaced.”All the same, it's a lot of money, isn't it?" Sam nodded gravely.”Yes, it is.”
But it wasn't. As both Sam and Celia knew, sixty thousand dollars was a trifling sum compared with the annual expenditures on research by Felding-Roth Pharmaceuticals or any major drug firm. The question, as always, was: Did Dr. Peat-Smith's project have sufficient commercial promise to make an investment worthwhile? "I get the impression," Celia told Peat-Smith, "that you're quite dedicated on the subject of Alzheimer's. Was there some special reason that got you started?" The young scientist hesitated. Then, meeting Celia's eyes directly, he said, "My mother is sixty-one, Mrs. Jordan. I'm her only child; not surprisingly, we've always been close. She's had Alzheimer's disease for four years and become progressively worse. My father, as best he can, takes care of her, and I go to see her almost every day. Unfortunately, she has no idea who I am.”