Surely the NIH had taken this into consideration by now and come up with a system whereby the identities of the participants could be checked and verified. That information had to be stored somewhere.
No such luck. It appeared the NIH had begun using a modified version of the new FDA sunshine policy. NIH clinical trials had a "one week of sunshine" provision, during which the suitability of test subjects could be evaluated by a review procedure. During that time, their real identity was in the database. But after that, the identity information of any patient actually selected for inclusion in the clinical trials was encoded-where thenceforth it could only be accessed through a lengthy legal process.
Screwed again.
At this late date, the Gerex Corporation surely was not going to be adding any new names and giving them that week of sunshine. According to press releases at the beginning of the clinical trials, when Gerex was a lot more communicative, at this date the entire study should be just days away from being wrapped up.
He went back to the patient files one last time, out of frustration. As he continued to scroll, he noticed that although the identities of patients and crucial personal data were encrypted, thedateson which they entered and finished the trials were all supplied.
Hmmm. It was actually more detailed than that. There were dates for when a patient entered each stage of the procedure: Screening, Initial Evaluation, Admitted into Program, Procedure Under Way, Procedure Monitoring, Results Evaluation, Patient Release, Patient Follow-up.
The time between screening and patient release averaged around five weeks, six weeks at most
Looking at the time-sequenced data, you couldn't avoid the conclusion that the clinical trials had been a spectacular success. No doubt the specific data would reveal whether there had been any adverse reactions, but as clinical trials go, these seemed to have been without major incident. He had a nose for trouble, and these looked as rigorous as clockwork. .
Hold on a second. . That’sodd.
What the data structure did not have was a category for Termination. Yet one of the patients had been listed with dates leading up to and including Procedure Under Way, but after that the patient was noted parenthetically as having been "terminated." That was all the information given.
What couldthatmean?
He leaned back with a sigh and pulled on his Brooklyn Lager. Okay, patients frequently got dropped from clinical trials because some underlying condition suddenly manifested itself and made them unsuitable trial subjects. In fact, that was preferable to keeping them in a study when they were no longer appropriate. But the thing about clinical trials was, there always had to be a compelling, fully explained reason for terminating a test subject. Otherwise you could just "terminate" non-responsive participants and skew the results. No reason was given here.
He thought again about the "one week of sunshine," and as a long shot checked to see if anyone had been admitted this week.
Nada, but again that was reasonable. The entire study was wrapping up.
Which meant, in short, that he had nothing to work with in terms of people. All he had were dates and encrypted names.
What now?
He finished the beer and was preparing to go off-line when a drop-down screen flickerednew data.
He was being directed to the new applicants' "sunshine" page.
He clicked back, then stared at the screen.
A name had appeared.
He couldn't believe his luck. For some unknown reason, they must still be adding new test subjects at this late date in the trials.
nina hampton.
Finally he had a name. This was an incredible stroke of. .
Wait. A second name was appearing now, the letters popping up one by one as they were being typed in.
He rolled the mouse to print, and felt his hopes surge.
Then his heart skipped a beat. The second name was. .alexa hampton.
Jesus, could it be?
No way. Too big a coincidence. Butwait, the other was Nina Hampton. Isn't that the name of her Brit mum? That unredeemable piece of work.
Impossible.
If it was the Ally Hampton he knew, she was a woman he still thought of every day. It went back to when they were both undergraduates. She was taking a degree in architecture at Columbia and he had just switched from premed to the Columbia School of Journalism.
Wasn't there a Cole Porter lyric about an affair being too hot not to cool down? They undoubtedly were in love, but they both were too strong-willed to cede an inch of personal turf. It was a combustible situation.
When they decided to go their own way, it was done under the agreement that they would make a clean break and never see each other again.Be adult and hold your head high and look to the future.No recriminations and no second thoughts. In respecting that agreement, he had gone out of his way not to keep track of her. He particularly didn't want to know if she'd gotten married had a family, any of it.
Thinking back now, he remembered that she had had some kind of heart condition. She refused to talk about it, and now he couldn't remember exactly what it was. But that could possibly explain her entry into the clinical trials, though it didn't clarify why she was only being added now, at the last minute.
If it was actually her.
And if so, how would he feel talking to her? He hoped time had mellowed her, though he somehow doubted it. Not Ally.
What an irony. If it was the same Alexa Hampton, she could end up being his entree into the secretive world of Winston Bartlett's Gerex Corporation. The trouble was, he wasn't sure he actually wanted to see her again. Even after all the years, the wounds still felt fresh.
He closed out the NIH file and opened People Search, which he often used to look up phone numbers. He started with New York State as a criterion. The names Alexa and Nina undoubtedly belonged to women, so they might be listed merely by their initials. But start with Alexa and be optimistic.
He got lucky. Three names and phone numbers popped up.
One was in Manhattan, and Ally was a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, but he wasn't sure he was psychologically prepared to speak to her. That number he decided to save for last, though it was by far the most plausible.
The next Alexa Hampton lived in Syracuse, with area code 315. He was still shook up as he dialed the number.
"Yeah, who's this?"
Sure didn't sound like Ally. But he was playing this straight. As a reporter he always started a conversation by identifying himself, so naturally he answered, "Stone Aimes, New YorkSentinel."
"The fuck you want?" came the voice. It was female but it definitely was not ladylike. "I don't need any newspapers."
Whoa, thatdefinitelydidn't sound like Ally. She was direct but she didn't talk like a sailor.
"Sorry, ma'am. I have a few questions about your participation in some clinical trials. Sorry to bother you, but I have a deadline. Shouldn't take a minute."
"You a fucking reporter?"
"I'm doing a story on the Gerex Corporation. Are you-?"
"Thewhatcorporation? The fuck you talking about?"
"Seems like I'm calling the wrong number. I'm very sorry and I apologize."
"Listen, if you're some kind of weirdo, I'm going to call the cops and have this call traced."
"I said I apologize." He hung up and thought about another beer. This was beginning to feel like the moment.
But he resisted the urge and called the next number. Come on. Be the right one and don't be Ally.
This one had a 516 area code. That meant Long Island.
"Hello," came a rusty old voice that had to be in its seventies. It sounded over-smoked and just hanging on. Again definitely not the Ally he knew.