“Lawrence took this yesterday,” said Neef.
“It’s doing the business,” said Pereira wearing an ear to ear grin.
“It’s damn nearly done the business,” said Neef. “It’s going to be all gone by next week.”
“They should all have been like this,” said Pereira shaking his head. “I’ve checked out the other four vectors till I’m blue in the face and they’re OK. So why didn’t they work? That’s what I want to know.”
Neef shook his head and said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
“Can I take that as a, don’t know?” asked Pereira.
“You can,” smiled Neef.
“How’s your Public Health problem?” asked Pereira. “Have these bozos come up with the virus yet?”
“They didn’t take too kindly to your suggestion,” said Neef.
“That guy Lennon couldn’t find his dick in his pants,” said Pereira. “If we’d had an electron microscope I would have looked for you. Didn’t anyone bother?”
Neef felt uncomfortable. “Yes,” he replied. “David Farro-Jones had a good look at lung samples taken from Charlie Morse.”
“And?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid.”
“Shit. It’s got to be a virus. I’m tellin’ you, man.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” said Neef carefully. He was watching Pereira for any sign of self-consciousness. “But it’s much harder to prove than to say.”
“Don’t see why,” said Pereira.
Neef wondered about the man facing him. He obviously didn’t know about Melanie Simpson’s house being so close to the Menogen labs and the fact that he kept pushing the virus idea suggested that he hadn’t considered for a moment that his own lab might have been responsible for the creation of a new and deadly virus. Or was Pereira just an incredibly good actor? Maybe his self confidence came from knowing that no one could actually trace the problem back to Menogen? Neef didn’t want to believe that but he couldn’t entirely dismiss the notion either.
“I brought these,” said Pereira. He brought out two glass vials from his battered briefcase.
“The new vector?”
“Yeah. You might as well keep them here in the fridge for when you get permission, then you’ll be able to get a quick start on your kid.”
“That was thoughtful,” said Neef.
“I suggest you keep one in the Unit and one down in Pharmacy as a back-up, same as last time.”
Neef smiled wryly as he recalled the broken vial in theatre.
“Will do.”
Pereira left and Neef was torn by mixed emotions about the man. It was so easy to get up tight about his general rudeness and lack of sensitivity but on the other hand, he was usually just saying what he felt was true without pausing to edit it for social nicety. It made him realise how seldom other people actually did this.
The phone rang and interrupted his train of thought. It was Tim Heaton.
“I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Just what I don’t need,” said Neef, wearily. “Tell me.”
“Your application for an emergency Gene Therapy license has been blocked.”
“What?” exclaimed Neef, feeling as if his head was about to explode. “Why?”
“It had to go before a sub-committee of the Regional Health Board before I could submit it. I thought they would rubber stamp it but I was wrong. They turned it down, refused to endorse it.”
“Our own bloody health board?” exclaimed Neef.
“They said an emergency application was not something to be made lightly. Menogen had already been granted considerable latitude in St George’s. They wanted to see a full report on the first Gene Therapy trial before they’d consider applying for any widening of remit. I’m sorry, Michael.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Neef. “I’ve got the vector in the fridge. It could save Neil Benson’s life and a bunch of old farts bleat about full reports and not asking lightly.”
“I really am sorry,” said Heaton.
“Was there more to it?” asked Neef.
“What d’you mean?”
“Are you telling me everything or was there more to it?”
There was a long pause that almost answered Neef’s question before Heaton said, “It was blocked by one member. The others would have passed it but for this one man chose to make an issue of it.”
“Do you know his name?”
Another pause. “If I tell you, you won’t do anything silly will you?”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Peter Baroda.”
“Jesus Christ! It was personal!”
“What d’you mean?”
“Baroda and Max Pereira had a bit of a run in at the last Public Health meeting. They clearly didn’t like each other. Baroda must have seen Pereira’s name on the application. That’s why the bastard blocked it.”
“That would be hard to prove,” said Heaton. “But if that’s the reason Baroda blocked the application, I agree with you. He’s a bastard.”
“Oh Christ,” sighed Neef, as he saw Neil’s last chance evaporate. “What a world.”
“I’m sorry,” repeated Heaton. “I don’t have to remind you that there’s no question of using the new vector without a license.”
“No you don’t.” replied Neef.
Neef was sitting with his head in his hands when Ann Miles came in with some letters to sign. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” said Neef.
“Coffee?”
“Please. And Ann?”
“Yes?”
“Would you see if Miss Sayers is in the Unit and ask her to come along if she is?”
“Of course.”
Time seemed to stand still for Neef as he stared into space for the next thirty seconds or so. He heard Eve’s voice as she returned with Ann.
“Duly summoned,” said Eve with a smile. “He’s a bit better today. What’s the problem?”
The smile faded from Eve’s face and her eyes filled with questions. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Is it Neil?”
“The Health Board refused to endorse the application for an emergency license.”
Eve’s mouth fell open. She shook her head in disbelief. “But why?” she asked.
“Officially they didn’t think it a good idea that we use any more Menogen vectors until they’ve assessed how the first trial turned out.”
“I see,” said Eve. “And unofficially?”
“Max Pereira got up the nose of one of the board members at the last meeting with the Public Health people. This is him getting his own back.”
“He’s letting a little boy die over something like that?” asked Eve, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“He probably doesn’t see it that way,” said Neef. “Max does have a habit of rubbing people up the wrong way.”
“Who is this board member?” asked Eve.
Neef looked at her suspiciously. “You’re not planning to do anything, are you?” he asked.
“Frankly, I’d cut his balls off if I thought it would help Neil but it probably wouldn’t so no, I’m not planning anything. I’d just like to know.”
“His name’s, Baroda.”
“Peter Baroda?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him,” replied Eve. “Big noise in local business circles but he’s not a doctor?”
“You don’t have to be to sit on the Health Board,” said Neef.
“Just a big wheel around town?”
“Something like that.”
“I can’t believe this,” said Eve, shaking her head. “We can’t let something like this stop Neil getting a last chance. Do you have this new vector?”
“I do, but forget it. We can’t use it without a license.”
“Why not?” demanded Eve.
“Because it’s not just a case of getting a piece of paper. The application has to be screened by experts who might spot some flaw in it that we can’t see. That’s what Gene Therapy vetting is all about.”