“Get who back?”
He nodded to himself as if he had just settled something. “They’ll know.”
35
“WELL, YOU GOT YOUR OUT-OF-COURT SETTLEMENT, and it cost me a friggin’ bundle,” said Gavin Moy.
“Two years from now, it’ll look like petty cash.” GEM Tech stocks that morning were up by twenty percent since last week over the rumors about the new Alzheimer’s drug. In a year Nick’s holdings would double several times over. And Jordan Carr would probably own an entire fleet of Ferraris.
It was a warm late October day, and Nick and Gavin were riding at thirty knots southward on Gavin’s boat in celebration of the settlement and Nick’s agreement to head up the clinical trials. When Gavin asked where he wanted to go, Nick said he had never been through the Cape Cod Canal. It would be the last run before Moy put the boat in dry dock.
A thirty-eight-foot Sea Ray sport cruiser with twin 350 horsepower Mer-Cruiser engines, the boat was long, sharp, and very fast; and it was named the
According to Moy, Broadview Nursing Home had assumed full responsibility for negligence in the death of Edward Zuchowsky, while, behind the scenes, GEM Tech paid the lawyer fees and damages. The Zuchowsky family agreed to accept a settlement of $1.5 million as well as an apology from Broadview and a promise to upgrade the security system of Broadview and other homes in the network.
“So, to use your phrase, ‘God’s in His heaven, all’s right with the world, right?’”
“It’s actually Robert Browning.”
“Whatever. So how’s your colleague and former student doing?”
Nick let pass the sarcasm in Moy’s voice. “She’ll be relieved it’s all behind her.”
“Some things are better left forgotten,” Moy said.
“I guess.”
“By the way, we’re going to make an official announcement in a couple weeks—press release, video, you name it—the whole nine yards.”
Moy beamed at Nick as if he were Moses glimpsing the Promised Land. Nick nodded, thinking he would not spoil the moment by reminding him of the flashback issues that lay before them—the delusional seizures that had probably led to the killing of Eddie Zuchowsky and the death of one of Peter Habib’s patients, William Zett, on a playground slide.
They had left Marina Bay at nine that Saturday morning, when the sea was like polished marble, and headed down the coast. A little before noon they passed through the canal and out into Buzzards Bay. They lunched at Woods Hole, then by two they headed deeper into the bay at Nick’s request.
On the right they passed Naushon and Pasque Islands and some of the others in the Elizabeth chain. Short of Cuttyhunk, Moy asked Teddy to turn the boat around because he wanted to catch the tide and the headwinds.
As they swung around, Nick nodded toward a low blue hump on the western horizon. “Isn’t that Homer’s Island?”
“Yup,” Moy said without even looking.
“You been out there recently?”
“Nope.” Then Moy waved at Teddy to head back.
Teddy leaned on the throttle, and the boat roared back up the ferryboat lane toward the canal which would take them back home.
“You remember that guy I was telling you about—the one who got caught out there in the jellies?”
“Yes, Jordan Carr told me something about it. In fact, I saw the blood workup.”
“Quite a coincidence.”
“I guess. What’s the name again?”
“Koryan. Jack Koryan.”
Moy shrugged. “Sounds like a countertop. How’s he doing?”
“Still comatose. It doesn’t look good.”
Moy nodded and raised his face to the sun and took a huge breath as if he were trying to drain the atmosphere. “Man oh man, it doesn’t get much better than this.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Nick said, thinking that maybe that was that about that.
But it wasn’t.
36
THREE WEEKS LATER IT WAS THE lead story. And Rene clicked up the volume as the Channel 8 anchor made the announcement:
“More good news in the fight against Alzheimer’s disease. At its annual meeting of shareholders, GEM Neurobiological Technologies announced some early successes in its trial use of Memorine, the lab’s revolutionary experimental drug for the treatment of various forms of dementia, including Alzheimer’s disease.”
The screen then showed a female reporter outside of Mass General Hospital. “Patients enrolled in GEM’s phase three clinical trials of the Memorine compound were diagnosed with early or mild forms of Alzheimer’s. And early reports have shown very promising results.
“Heading up the team of clinical physicians and researchers is Dr. Nicholas Mavros, neurologist at MGH.”
They shifted to Nick at his desk. “It’s very exciting to participate in this historic effort to develop a cure for Alzheimer’s. Until now there’s been no way to stop the decline in mental functions. And certainly nothing to reverse the disease’s progress. It’s still relatively early in the trials, but we’re seeing cognitive improvement in nearly forty percent of our trial patients.”
Rene could feel Nick’s restraint. Successful trial results were not officially made until the study was complete and findings were published in a reputable journal. But, of course, this was Gavin Moy’s ploy to start a Memorine fever.
Their faces strategically blocked, trial patients were shown doing puzzles, writing on pads, talking to nurses and aides. Many smiled and looked focused. There was tearful testimony from Christine Martinetti who told how her father was regaining his memory and coming back to his old self. “When we put him in the nursing home, he was confused and frightened. He got people mixed up. He couldn’t recognize family members. He struggled to do simple tasks like tie his shoes. Now it’s all beginning to come back.”
The camera shifted to Louis sitting in a chair with one foot on a stool as he tied his shoes while chatting with an aide. He looked at the camera and waved with a big smile. And Rene felt a warm surge in her chest.
“He still has a way to go, but it’s a miracle what’s happening in him. A miracle.”
“And a miracle it seems to be,” the reporter continued. “We spoke to Mr. Martinetti briefly about the return of his memory.”
The camera closed in on Louis. He looked wonderful wearing a blue polo shirt and sitting at a table with his hands folded, his face squared in confidence. “Yes, I do feel things coming back to me, especially from way back.”
Rene’s eyes filled as she watched. She could not help but see her father.
“So, you’re remembering things that you had forgotten.”
“Yes, and I’m feeling more …”
There was a painful pause as he tried to come up with the word. Hating dead air, the interviewer began to talk, “Well, that’s wonderful—”
“Clearheaded. But sometimes the words take a while to come to me, but they do. Better than before.” Louis smiled at the camera and gave a two-finger salute just as they cut him off.
