eats your insides out.’
‘I hadn’t considered,’ said Tansy.
‘The trials went like a dream. We would cut away damaged tissue, apply the Cytogerm compound and put on the bandages. Three weeks later the gaps would be filled with brand new healthy tissue as smooth as your cheek. The only scars would be where I’d cut away damaged skin at the junction, minor scars easily covered with cosmetics. It was a world away from the old skin graft routines over many months if not years. We were working in a surgical Camelot.’
‘So what went wrong?’ asked Tansy.
‘After the initial success it occurred to me that the treatment could have wider applications.’
‘How so?’
‘If Cytogerm could be used to repair accident damage then I thought we might be able to use it to repair deliberate surgical damage.’
‘Deliberate?’ asked Tansy, puzzled at the notion.
‘I suggested to the company that we might be able to treat people with bad birthmarks and congenital disfigurement.’
‘And?’
‘It worked,’ said MacLean. ‘I could simply cut away the offending area and let Cytogerm do the repair work. I felt like Jesus Christ making the blind see, only better. He would have taken it for granted.’
Tansy smiled. ‘Go on.’
‘Up until then we were a relatively small part of the company’s empire. Research and Development is always a gamble — the part of the business that spends money rather than makes it. Now we were suddenly flavour of the month. The potential returns from Cytogerm were plain for all to see. I was summoned to meet the company’s directors at the Stagelplatz Hotel in Geneva.’
‘Why a hotel?’ asked Tansy.
‘Lehman Steiner owned it. In fact it was quite difficult to find something that they didn’t own or control. Hotels, apartment blocks, restaurants; they made the soap in my bath, the toothpaste on my brush. Once a month the directors met at the Stagelplatz to decide what the world should pay for relief of its aches and pains.’
‘So you were summoned by the gods,’ said Tansy.
‘Gods in charcoal-grey suits who smiled but never stopped watching me. It was as if they were looking for weaknesses, searching for flaws in my character. Any word out of place would be questioned. Any ambiguity had to be cleared up immediately. Their philosophy was quite simple. You either made money for the company or you didn’t. If you didn’t you were out. If you did then the question became, how much more could you make?’
‘But surely your team were given credit for what they’d achieved?’ said Tansy.
‘Oh yes,’ replied MacLean. ‘They congratulated me on our research and flattered me till I beamed like the school clever-dick on prize-giving day.’
‘And then?’
‘Then one of them almost casually wondered out loud what Cytogerm could do for ageing skin… ‘
‘Oh,’ said Tansy as she saw the significance of the question.
MacLean smiled ruefully and said, ‘Until that moment I had not even considered that angle of Cytogerm. The commercial implications were enormous and I hadn’t even seen them. If crows’ feet could be removed from ageing eyes and wrinkles from the necks of dowagers then Cytogerm was liquid money.’
‘How did you feel about that?’ asked Tansy.
‘I was apprehensive. I insisted that our research into the repair of accident damage must remain a priority but they were prepared for that. “Of course.” they smiled. But the more money Cytogerm made the cheaper it would become and the cheaper it became the more accessible it would be. More patients would benefit in the long run. Could I not see my way into making a very preliminary study of the potential of the drug?’
‘Is that true about the cost?’ asked Tansy.
‘In general yes,’ replied MacLean. ‘When a new drug hits the market all the research and development costs have to be recouped before it starts to make money for the company. Consequently new drugs are usually very expensive.’
‘Did you agree?’ asked Tansy.
‘In the end I did. I asked for a volunteer at the clinic and Eva Stahl, our theatre sister offered herself. She was a very pleasant, intelligent lady who was approaching middle age with the trepidation that many women feel at that time. She jumped at the chance of losing the sagging skin under her eyes and having her neck rescued from a nno domini and too much sun.
‘What happened?’ asked Tansy.
‘Four weeks later she could have passed for twenty-five. She was beautiful. Not only did she look good but also her personality changed to match. The fact that she looked good was making her feel good. It was like being reborn.’
‘It sounds miraculous.’
‘Flushed with success, we admitted six more volunteers. I operated on three, my assistant Kurt Immelman on the others.’
‘You could delegate?’ asked Tansy.
‘That was one of the great things about the treatment,’ said MacLean. ‘A Boy Scout with a penknife could have done the surgery. It was Cytogerm that performed the miracles.’
‘What happened?’
‘Five of the six were brilliant successes just like the first but the sixth wasn’t.’ MacLean took a sip of his coffee. ‘Her name was Elsa Kaufman. She was thirty-eight and the wife of one of our production managers in Zurich. Two weeks after her operation and before the bandages were removed she began to complain of pain in her face. I didn’t think too much of it at first. Post-surgical pain is quite common but it continued and started to get worse. I didn’t want to disturb the bandages at a crucial stage in tissue repair so I treated her with broad-spectrum antibiotics in the belief that she had picked up an infection. If I’d removed the dressings there and then she might have stood a chance.’
‘What was wrong?’ asked Tansy gently.
‘A few days later when the pain became unbearable, I took her to theatre and removed the dressings. It was as if… ‘
‘As if what?’ prompted Tansy, seeing that MacLean was suffering at the recollection.
‘It was as if her face wasn’t there any more,’ he said. ‘It was completely covered with a livid red tumour, a hideous cancer that had eaten her features away. Mercifully she died within a few days when it reached her brain.’
‘How awful,’ whispered Tansy. ‘Was it Cytogerm that did it?’
‘That was the multi-million dollar question. We took samples from the tumour at autopsy but couldn’t classify it. It was different from any other kind of cancer we’d ever come across before. It grew so fast! In cell culture it grew eight times faster than any other reported cell line.’
‘What’s cell culture?’ asked Tansy.
‘We can grow cancer cells in test tubes,’ said MacLean.
Tansy shuddered.
MacLean returned to the story. ‘The clue to the whole thing was the speed of its growth. We had been using a compound which speeded up the growth of healthy tissue and here we were faced with a fast-growing cancer. There had to be a link and it had to be Cytogerm.’
‘Oh no,’ said Tansy.
‘I’m afraid so. Cytogerm was awakening dormant cancer cells and turning them into rampant tumours. Many people have moles or other small blemishes on their skin. They can be localised cancers. We think that was the problem with Elsa Kaufman. She had a mole on her upper lip. It must have been a melanoma. Cytogerm triggered it into uncontrollable growth.’
‘End of Cytogerm?’
‘End of Cytogerm,’ agreed MacLean. ‘Or so I thought.’
Carrie came into the room and announced that she was having trouble with the finishing touches to her snowman. Could she have some help?
