AFTER LUNCH, MARK THOMPSON, GEM TECH medical director, introduced Gavin Moy, reminding the audience of his humble beginnings as a medical resident who decided to start his own lab in a cramped basement behind MIT.
“What separates Gavin Moy from the rest of us mere mortals is the genius to recognize possibilities. What to a lesser man would have been merely a happy accident was to Gavin a discovery humming with neuropharmacological benefits. And he was clever enough to get patents on a whole family of base compounds from the jellyfish toxin.
“Not only did he believe in himself, but he also had the courage and tenacity to pursue a dream that led to this very room. Yes, it took years of isolation and synthesis, research and development. But over those years Gavin raised enough capital to expand his labs and to create a certain esprit de corps, a palpable feeling of shared enthusiasm that may not be found in every such scientific enterprise. That energy and sheer pride is a reflection of the man who resides at the top.”
More applause and cheers filled the air.
“It has been nearly four decades since young Gavin Moy and a couple of local grad students first fired up their Bunsen burners in that small room below Junior Dee’s Auto Parts Store. Today we are at the culmination of that determination, vision, and genius as we are about to give to the world the fruits of such great labor and science— the world’s first cure for Alzheimer’s disease, a scourge of aging humanity for generations and generations. Ladies and gentleman, I am proud to introduce Gavin Moy.”
To a thunderous standing ovation Gavin Moy rose to the podium, looking elegant in his black pinstripe suit and tanned shiny head. Nick looked around the room. Brian Rich and Paul Nadeau shared a table with Jordan Carr, who had told Nick that he had reconsidered the data and was behind him in his recommendations for an extension.
Jordan caught Nick’s eyes and nodded. And Nick felt a warm rush of gratitude.
“For the first time in history,” Moy began, “we have demonstrated a plaque eradicator in the treatment of mild to severe Alzheimer’s disease, thus representing the world’s first treatment …”
And he cited impressive statistics on patient improvement while faces glowed with wine and expectation. “In one study alone, one hundred and sixty patients with moderate to severe dementia had experienced an average of seventy percent improvement in cognitive behavior as measured by various mini-mental and higher cognitive tests …”
Bolstering Moy’s claims was a video of AD patients moving about the wards of different nursing homes looking purposeful and alert. Other patients answered the questions of interviewers. Responses were sometimes halting but focused and generally lucid. In one sequence, subjects—including Louis Martinetti—happily explained how wonderful it was to regain their memory. But what the video did not show was that Louis, home on furlough, was having continuous and traumatic flashbacks to his POW days, and yet for some mysterious reason he resisted taking medications prescribed to control those flashbacks.
The video segued into testimonials by members of the Alzheimer’s Association who had witnessed miraculous improvements. Also tearful and touching reports of nurses, home staffers, and family members who expressed profound gratitude that their loved ones were improving. Heartfelt applause followed the testimonials.
The video presentation ended with a slick promotional on the healing power of the drug—elderly patients having fun moments with younger family members, concluding with a voiceover pronouncement: “The Memorine Solution.”
Gavin Moy concluded with the reminder that they were at a turning point in medical and social history. “The world is waiting, and it is morally imperative that we respond accordingly and in a timely manner.”
A standing ovation exploded. The pep rally had come to a conclusion.
73
THERE WAS A HALF-HOUR BREAK AS people stretched and mingled, some execs and invited guests retiring to one of the bars. Then the twenty-three PIs moved to the Mountain Lion Room for the closed-door strategy meeting.
At the center of the room sat a large oval table with twenty-three chairs, each with place cards—nineteen men and four women. Although Nick thought it rather excessive, each clinician had been sworn to secrecy, their signatures appearing on a confidentiality document drawn up by GEM’s legal department.
Nick took his seat. He looked over at Paul Nadeau and Brian Rich. They nodded. From the other side of the table Jordan flashed Nick a thumbs-up. His backers—renegades in dissent, as Rene called them. (He would telephone her and, of course, Thalia when it was over.)
Nick called the meeting to order and offered sincere appreciation for the arduous work by the researchers and their various staff members. “I share with my colleagues the high enthusiasm over the successes of Memorine and the hopes that it can eventually live up to expectations. I need not remind anyone of the global impact of this meeting and the decisions we make. But I’d like to say that our purpose here is to evaluate the accuracy and legitimacy of our application report to the FDA and not to agree on strategies that would ensure smooth sailing through that process.”
An uneasy rustling circled the table.
Nick then asked for each doctor’s comments on the collective findings of the trials. And one after another the comments were expectedly praiseful. Some spoke of how exciting it had been to work on such a miraculous compound, others saying how personally gratifying it was to witness such positive results. Murmurs of “Hear, hear,” arose from others.
When it was Jordan Carr’s turn, he shot Nick a nervous glance and said he had nothing else to add but high expectations. Nick felt confused. It was agreed that Jordan would initiate the concern about the flashbacks and begin to quote troublesome data. But he just looked away.
When it came to Paul Nadeau and Brian Rich, they also concurred with the others’ praise and expectations, although Nadeau did mention a few cases of regressive delusional behaviors that were correctable by standard antipsychotic medications.
Nick was beginning to read the portents. “Thank you for your comments,” he said. “And while I appreciate your enthusiasm, I heard only passing reference to what I believe are serious adverse reactions as manifested in over thirty percent of the trial subjects—namely, the flashback seizures. And if we are to offer a balanced report of our findings, it is incumbent upon us to highlight those problems which have resulted in a number of deaths, including one murder and three suicides, several injuries, and some arrests, not to mention the effect on family members and caregivers.”
“I beg to differ,” said Harvey Schultz, a PI from Trenton. “I’m not sure where you’re getting your figures, Nick, but I have not experienced such adversities. And frankly I thought we had clarified this problem—namely, that these alleged flashbacks are delusions stemming from structural changes from AD and not the application of Memorine.”
Nick was ready for that. “We have not clarified the problem but buried it.”
A grumble arose. Jordan looked at Nick, his face reddening.
“A significant number of patients are receding into hallucinatory delusions of past-time-even early childhood —experiences. And many are very traumatic, locking patients into flashbacks. We’ve documented several cases of residents becoming highly agitated, including Louis Martinetti, from the video earlier, who out of the blue is back in a Korean POW camp. Another keeps getting stuck in a house fire that she was in when she was ten years old. Another relives the discovery of his father’s suicide by hanging. These are terribly traumatic flashbacks that they just can’t seem to escape.
“Furthermore, these episodes have not only created great difficulties for nursing home staffers, but, as you can imagine, they have had devastating effects on family members.”
Then he read a few sample letters from caregivers. “‘You have made my husband into a guinea pig and into someone I don’t know. His behavior is erratic. One minute he’s himself, the next he’s talking crazy things to people who died years ago. At least when he was demented, we knew what to expect. Now he’s like a lost child who
