“Yes, Jordan Carr told me something about it. In fact, I saw the blood workup.”
“Quite a coincidence.”
“I guess. What’s the name again?”
“Koryan. Jack Koryan.”
Moy shrugged. “Sounds like a countertop. How’s he doing?”
“Still comatose. It doesn’t look good.”
Moy nodded and raised his face to the sun and took a huge breath as if he were trying to drain the atmosphere. “Man oh man, it doesn’t get much better than this.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Nick said, thinking that maybe that was that about that.
But it wasn’t.
36
THREE WEEKS LATER IT WAS THE lead story. And René clicked up the volume as the Channel 8 anchor made the announcement:
“More good news in the fight against Alzheimer’s disease. At its annual meeting of shareholders, GEM Neurobiological Technologies announced some early successes in its trial use of Memorine, the lab’s revolutionary experimental drug for the treatment of various forms of dementia, including Alzheimer’s disease.”
The screen then showed a female reporter outside of Mass General Hospital. “Patients enrolled in GEM’s phase three clinical trials of the Memorine compound were diagnosed with early or mild forms of Alzheimer’s. And early reports have shown very promising results.
“Heading up the team of clinical physicians and researchers is Dr. Nicholas Mavros, neurologist at MGH.”
They shifted to Nick at his desk. “It’s very exciting to participate in this historic effort to develop a cure for Alzheimer’s. Until now there’s been no way to stop the decline in mental functions. And certainly nothing to reverse the disease’s progress. It’s still relatively early in the trials, but we’re seeing cognitive improvement in nearly forty percent of our trial patients.”
René could feel Nick’s restraint. Successful trial results were not officially made until the study was complete and findings were published in a reputable journal. But, of course, this was Gavin Moy’s ploy to start a Memorine fever.
Their faces strategically blocked, trial patients were shown doing puzzles, writing on pads, talking to nurses and aides. Many smiled and looked focused. There was tearful testimony from Christine Martinetti who told how her father was regaining his memory and coming back to his old self. “When we put him in the nursing home, he was confused and frightened. He got people mixed up. He couldn’t recognize family members. He struggled to do simple tasks like tie his shoes. Now it’s all beginning to come back.”
The camera shifted to Louis sitting in a chair with one foot on a stool as he tied his shoes while chatting with an aide. He looked at the camera and waved with a big smile. And René felt a warm surge in her chest.
“He still has a way to go, but it’s a miracle what’s happening in him. A miracle.”
“And a miracle it seems to be,” the reporter continued. “We spoke to Mr. Martinetti briefly about the return of his memory.”
The camera closed in on Louis. He looked wonderful wearing a blue polo shirt and sitting at a table with his hands folded, his face squared in confidence. “Yes, I do feel things coming back to me, especially from way back.”
René’s eyes filled as she watched. She could not help but see her father.
“So, you’re remembering things that you had forgotten.”
“Yes, and I’m feeling more …”
There was a painful pause as he tried to come up with the word. Hating dead air, the interviewer began to talk, “Well, that’s wonderful—”
“Clearheaded. But sometimes the words take a while to come to me, but they do. Better than before.” Louis smiled at the camera and gave a two-finger salute just as they cut him off.
The scene shifted back to the reporter. “Located in Walden, Massachusetts, GEM Tech plans to develop Memorine as an orally available pill.”
On the screen were shots of the GEM complex, the camera panning the main building and surrounding complexes. “The president and CEO of GEM Tech is Dr. Gavin Moy.” Moy’s large, fleshy face filled the screen. “Dr. Moy, what do you see as your goals in these clinical trials?”
Moy adjusted his glasses. “Alzheimer’s disease is the most common and deadly form of dementia affecting people over age sixty-five. Some five million Americans are afflicted, and it’s the major reason why people are institutionalized in the United States. Left unchecked, there will be fifteen million cases in this country by 2025. And that’s what we’re trying to prevent here at GEM Tech. And every indication tells us that we’re heading that way.”
“So, when can we expect Memorine to become available?”
“Based on our great successes so far, we’re expecting to complete trials in nine months, maybe sooner if the FDA fast-tracks our application. We’re very hopeful.”
The camera switched to Nick’s video sequence of a blue brain heavily spotted with red blotches of plaque. As the video ran, the red began to recede and disappear. “What you’re seeing are time-lapsed MRI images showing the actual reversal of the damage in an Alzheimer’s patient’s brain …”
René watched, thinking that Gavin Moy was brilliant and slick as oil. What he had done was turn a news announcement into a priceless promo for Memorine. And corporate protocol be damned because, no matter how premature the announcement, every prestigious journal in the world would want to publish the results, just as every neurologist would kill to get his or her name attached to the trials. And to potential investors the publicity was catnip. By tomorrow night GEM stocks would probably double again.
The camera closed in on the original patent framed and hanging on the wall of his office. “By the way,” the reporter said, “how did you discover that Memorine was so beneficial to the treatment of Alzheimer’s disease?”
Moy smiled. “Trade secret.”
Nick appeared on-screen again. “What makes Memorine so revolutionary?” the reporter asked him.
“We think that Memorine prompts an immune-system response that destroys amyloid plaques, one of the hallmarks of Alzheimer’s that contribute to brain cell degeneration. It also stimulates the regeneration of new cells in damaged areas.”
Back to the reporter. “According to GEM researchers, patients tested with Memorine experienced significantly better results than participants in the placebo group in measures of thinking and reasoning, day-to-day functioning, and behavior.
“But the drug did not help every individual who took it. At least not as yet.”
Back to Nick: “Some patients may take longer, depending on the stage of their diseases. It may be a genetic factor or a demographic one. That’s part of what we’ll try to determine in the trials. Also for whom it works best, et cetera.”
“Any side effects?”
“That’s part of what the trials will determine. Every drug including aspirin has side effects, some more measurable and adverse than others. But at the present time, there are no conclusive side effects to speak of.”
The report concluded with a shot in front of GEM Tech’s offices. “If approved by the FDA, all indications point to Memorine becoming one of the all-time blockbuster drugs with first-year U.S. sales of five billion dollars. Back to you, Liz.”
The final shot was of Louis Martinetti snapping a salute at the camera.
This is what it’s all about. Yes, René thought. Yes.
AND FOR ANOTHER ONE HUNDRED AND twenty-seven days Jack Koryan remained in a profound sleep.
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