cut? Don’t you think, Pia?”
Pia had come with Lesley and Will not because she wanted company per se, but because she still felt unnerved by what she had seen and wanted to talk about it. After Dr. Yamamoto led them out of the inner lab with the organ baths that morning, they’d settled in a corner of the lab with the intention of discussing tissue culture fluid. Instead they couldn’t stop talking about the progress Rothman had made in organogenesis. As interested as they were, they realized that reading books from the library and doing Web searches was fruitless. The textbooks on this stuff hadn’t been written yet.
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Pia said, responding to Will’s question about Rothman and Yamamoto getting a cut. “Money and I don’t have much of a relationship.”
“But he’s gotta be looking at billions here. Doesn’t he? I’m going to call my dad, he’ll know someone who knows.”
“Your dad?” Lesley said.
“Yeah, his broker is pretty well connected.”
“I don’t think you should be talking about any of this to others,” Pia offered. “Particularly people outside the medical center. Remember what Yamamoto said. At least during this month while you’re working there or until the key publication is released.”
“You might be right,” Will said. “But it can’t be that much of a secret, as Yamamoto admitted. But certainly it’s best not to get on Rothman’s wrong side, especially with his reputation.”
“I’m just pleased to be part of the scene,” Lesley said. “I’d be happy just checking bath temperatures for the month.”
“After all the terrible stories I’ve heard about Rothman’s treatment of students, I was expecting the worst today,” Will said. “But hell, he seemed very nice to us. Maybe he didn’t know we were coming today or didn’t know who we were?”
“He had to know who we were,” Lesley said. “I think he was using us to practice showing off the progress they’ve been making. But whatever the reason, I don’t care. I’m happy just to have been able to see it.”
Inwardly, this was exactly what Pia was thinking. It had been a magical experience for her to visit Rothman’s inner sanctum. It had been a long wait, but she didn’t care. Nor did she feel any resentment that Lesley and Will had gotten to do it on the very first day of their elective. For Pia, it was as if she had entered a different physical dimension. The room, and what was happening inside it, seemed to belong to a realm quite apart from all that lay outside. What she remembered was a white space, glowing blue, like something from a science fiction movie.
“It was one of the most tantalizing experiences of medical school,” Will said. “I loved it.”
“Me too,” Pia said. “I could have just stood there and watched baths all day.”
“Hey, everybody,” a voice announced. It was George Wilson, standing at the foot of the table, carrying a cafeteria tray. He’d just emerged from the food table line. “Is this a private party or can a tired radiology extern join you?”
The three students eyed each other. It was Will who spoke up: “If it isn’t Mr. Wilson! Hello, George.”
“Will, how’s it going?” George said. He tried to conceal his displeasure at seeing McKinley sitting at a table with Pia.
“You know Lesley Wong,” Will said, playing the host. “And Pia, of course.”
“Lesley, hi, how are you? Pia, how was your day with Rothman?”
George was feeling extremely uncomfortable as he’d not yet been invited to sit down and so stood awkwardly next to the threesome’s table. It was late, and he’d managed to get to the cafeteria just before it closed. The last person he expected to see there was Pia. The second-to-last person was Will McKinley, who usually held forth in the medical school dorm cafeteria chatting up all the women medical students.
“We were just talking about it,” Pia said, unaware of George’s discomfort. Social cues were not one of her strong points. “Lesley and Will are also spending their electives in Rothman’s lab. And about the day? It was . . . let’s say interesting.”
“Crazy Rothman saves the world,” Will said.
“What do you mean by that?” Pia said. There was a sharpness in her voice.
“Nothing, nothing,” Will said, holding up his hands as if he expected Pia to attack him. “It’s known you worship the guy-”
“I
“Listen, it’s fine, he’s clearly some kind of crazy genius.” The look on Pia’s face persuaded Will that he might be better off changing the subject.
“What we were wondering,” Will said, “is how much money Rothman stands to make if he finds investors to back him.”
“You were wondering,” Lesley said.
“Yes, I was wondering. There’s got to be big money in this. Rothman’s sitting on a gold mine. Don’t you think, George?”
“I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about,” George said. “But I can tell I’m interrupting a meeting here.” He started to leave, but Will grabbed his jacket just above the elbow and restrained him. “Don’t go! Take a seat!”
George glanced at Pia, and she motioned with her head for him to sit down, which he did, unsure if it was the right move.
8.
GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT MARCH 1, 2011, 9:10 P.M.
Edmund Mathews was back at his front door, and again it was Russell. This time Russell hadn’t called ahead; he simply texted Edmund on his BlackBerry to say he was coming over. There was only one reason he’d come back. Edmund figured he must have found out who was shorting LifeDeals.
“Edmund. We need to talk.”
“Tell me what you found out.”
“I need a drink and so will you. Can you fix me a scotch?”
Edmund knew Russell liked the eighteen-year-old Talisker single malt he kept in the den, so he walked Russell over to the room and closed the door behind them. Edmund had been sitting in there reading some research and had started a fire in the grate. The room smelled slightly of smoke, and when Edmund opened the bottle, the peaty aroma of the whiskey added to the effect that they were in a Highland lodge.
“So what do you know?”
Edmund poured two drinks and handed one to Russell, who stared into the fire, an elbow leaning on the mantel.
“I’m a big boy, Russell, I’ve heard bad news before. Out with it!”
“Gloria Croft,” Russell said, snatching a glance at Edmund, then throwing down all of his drink in one shot.
“Excuse me? I thought for a second you said Gloria Croft.”
“I did. That’s who it is, Edmund, Gloria freaking Croft. She’s doing it plain as day through BigSkies.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. You have
Edmund was yelling nearly at the top of his voice. This was why Russell had been concerned-he knew Edmund was going to flip out. There was a knock at the door, and Alice, Edmund’s wife, popped her pretty blond head in.
“Oh, hi, Russell. Edmund, Darius is going to bed. . . .”
Alice took one look at her husband’s face twisted in a rictus of unalloyed rage. She could see it would be a hopeless task to get anything out of him in this state.
“I’ll say good night for you, then. Bye, Russell,” Alice blurted, and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
The interlude cut short Edmund’s tirade. He poured himself another drink and then one for Russell, closed his
