“I still don’t understand why we don’t send him back to Boston,” Ms. Richmond said. “Then it’s over. Why take the risk of jeopardizing our relationship with Sushita?”
Sterling looked at Dr. Mason.
Dr. Mason cleared his throat. “From my perspective,” he said, “I don’t want to be rash. The kid is good at what he does. This morning I went down to where he’s working. He’s got a whole generation of mice accepting the glycoprotein. On top of that, he showed me some promising crystals that he’s been able to grow. He insists he’ll have better in a week. No one else has been able to get this far. My problem is I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. A more dire threat to our Sushita funding is the fact that we have yet to provide them with a single patentable product. They expected something by now.”
“In other words, you think we need this brat even with the risks,” Ms. Richmond said.
“That’s not the way I would phrase it,” Dr. Mason said.
“Then why don’t you call Sushita and explain it to them,” Ms. Richmond said.
“That would not be advisable,” Sterling said. “The Japanese prefer indirect communication so that confrontation can be avoided. They would not understand such a direct approach. Such a ploy would cause more anxiety than it would alleviate.”
“Besides, I already alluded to all this with Hiroshi,” Dr. Mason said. “And they still went ahead to investigate Mr. Murphy on their own.”
“The Japanese businessman has a great problem with uncertainty,” Sterling added.
“So what is your take on this kid?” Ms. Richmond asked. “Is he a spy? Is that why he’s here?”
“No,” Sterling said. “Not in any traditional sense. He’s obviously interested in your success with medulloblastoma, but it’s from an academic point of view, not a commercial one.”
“He was very open about his interests in the medulloblastoma work,” Dr. Mason said. “The first time I met him he was clearly disappointed when I informed him he would not be permitted to work on the project. If he’d been some kind of spy, I think he’d keep a lower profile. Rocking the boat only draws further scrutiny.”
“I agree,” Sterling said. “As a young man he’s still motivated by idealism and altruism. He has not yet been poisoned by the new commercialism of science in general and medical research in particular.”
“Yet he’s already started his own company,” Ms. Richmond pointed out. “That sounds pretty commercial to me.”
“But he and his partners were essentially selling their products at cost,” Sterling said. “The profit motive did not play a role until the company was bought out.”
“So what’s the solution?” Ms. Richmond asked.
“Sterling will monitor the situation,” Dr. Mason said. “He’ll keep us informed on a daily basis. He’ll protect Mr. Murphy from the Japanese as long as he is a help to us. If Sterling decides he is acting as a spy, he’ll let us know. Then we’ll send him back to Boston.”
“An expensive babysitter,” Ms. Richmond said.
Sterling smiled and nodded in agreement. “Miami in March is very agreeable,” he said. “Particularly at the Grand Bay Hotel.”
A short burst of static from Dr. Mason’s intercom preceded Patty’s voice: “Mr. Harris is here.”
Dr. Mason thanked Sterling, indicating the meeting was over. As he accompanied Sterling out of the office, Dr. Mason couldn’t help but agree with Ms. Richmond’s assessment: Sterling was an expensive babysitter. But Dr. Mason was convinced the money was well spent and, thanks to Howard Pace, readily available.
Harris was standing next to Patty’s desk, and for the sake of propriety, Dr. Mason introduced him to Sterling. As he did, he couldn’t help but feel each man was the other’s antithesis.
After sending Harris into his office, Dr. Mason thanked Sterling for all he’d done and implored him to keep them informed. Sterling assured him he would, and left. Dr. Mason then went back into his office to deal with the current crisis.
Dr. Mason closed the door behind him. He noticed Harris was standing stiffly in the center of the room; his patent leather visored hat with its gold trim was wedged under his left arm.
“Relax,” Dr. Mason said as he went around behind his desk and sat down.
“Yes, sir,” Harris said smartly. He didn’t move.
“For crissake, sit down!” Dr. Mason said when he noticed Harris was still standing.
Harris took a seat, his hat remaining beneath his arm.
“I suppose you’ve heard another breast cancer patient has died,” Dr. Mason said. “At least for all practical purposes.”
“Yes, sir,” Harris said crisply.
Dr. Mason eyed his head of security with mild irritation. On the one hand he appreciated the professionalism of Robert Harris; on the other hand the militaristic playacting bothered him. It wasn’t appropriate for a medical institution. But he’d never complained because until these breast cancer deaths, security had never been a problem.
“As we told you in the past,” Dr. Mason said, “we believe some misguided demented individual is doing this. It’s becoming intolerable. It has to be stopped.
“I’ve asked you to make this your number-one priority. Have you been able to turn anything up?”
“I assure you, this problem has my undivided attention,” Harris said. “Following your advice I’ve done extensive background checks on most all of the professional staff. I’ve checked references by calling hundreds of institutions. No discrepancies have turned up so far. I’ll now be expanding the checks to other personnel who have access to patients. We tried to monitor some of the breast cancer patients, but there are too many to keep tabs on all the time. Perhaps we should consider putting security cameras in all the rooms.” Harris did not mention his suspicion of the possible connection between these cases and the death of a nurse and the attempted assault of another. After all, it was only a hunch.
“Maybe cameras in every breast cancer patient’s room is what we have to do,” Ms. Richmond said.
“It would be expensive,” Harris warned. “Not only the cost of the cameras and the installation, but also the additional personnel to watch the monitors.”
“Expense might be an academic concern,” Ms. Richmond said. “If this problem continues and the press gets hold of it, we might not have an institution.”
“I’ll look into it,” Harris promised.
“If you need additional manpower, let us know,” Dr. Mason said. “This has to be stopped.”
“I understand, sir,” Harris said. But he didn’t want help. He wanted to do this on his own. At this point it had become a matter of honor. No screwball psychotic was going to get the best of him.
“And what about this attack last night at the residence?” Ms. Richmond asked. “I have a hard enough time recruiting nursing personnel. We can’t have them attacked in the temporary housing we offer them.”
“It is the first time security has been a problem at the residence,” Harris said.
“Maybe we need security people there during the evening hours,” Ms. Richmond suggested.
“I’d be happy to put together a cost analysis,” Harris said.
“I think the patient issue is more important,” Dr. Mason said. “Don’t dilute your efforts at the present time.”
“Yes, sir,” Harris said.
Dr. Mason looked at Ms. Richmond. “Anything else?”
Ms. Richmond shook her head.
Dr. Mason glanced back at Harris. “We’re counting on you,” he said.