where fights for space among researchers were legendary for their acrimony. In the center was a glass-enclosed office with a desk, a telephone, and a computer terminal.
Sean walked around, fingering the equipment. It was basic but serviceable. The most impressive items were a luminescence-spectrophotometer and a binocular microscope to detect fluorescence. Sean thought he could have some fun with those instruments under the right circumstances, but he didn’t know if the Forbes provided the right environment. For one thing, Sean realized that he’d probably be working in this large room alone.
“Where are all the reagents and things?” he asked.
Claire motioned for Sean to follow, and they descended another floor where Claire showed him the supply room. As far as Sean was concerned, this was the most impressive area he’d seen so far. The supply room was filled with everything a molecular biological lab would need. There was even a generous selection of various cell lines from the NIH.
After cursorily touring through the rest of the lab space, Claire led Sean down to the basement. Scrunching up her nose, she took him into the animal room. Dogs barked, monkeys glared, and mice and rats skittered about their cages. The air was moist and pungent. Claire introduced Sean to Roger Calvet, the animal keeper. He was a small man with a severe hunchback.
They only stayed a minute and as the doors closed behind them, Claire made a gesture of relief. “My least favorite part of the whole tour,” she confided. “I’m not sure where I stand on the animal-rights issue.”
“It’s tough,” Sean admitted. “But we definitely need them. For some reason mice and rats don’t bother me as much as dogs or monkeys.”
“I’m supposed to show you the hospital too,” Claire said. “Are you game?”
“Why not?” Sean said. He was enjoying Claire.
They took the elevator back to the second floor and crossed to the clinic by way of the pedestrian bridge. The towers were some fifty feet apart.
The second floor of the hospital housed the diagnostic and treatment areas as well as the ICU and the surgical suites. The chemistry lab and radiology were also there along with medical records. Claire took Sean in to meet her mother, who was one of the medical librarians.
“If I can be of any assistance,” Mrs. Barington said, “just give me a call.”
Sean thanked her and moved to leave, but Mrs. Barington insisted she show him around the department. Sean tried to be interested as he was shown the Center’s computer capabilities, the laser printers, the hoist they used to bring charts up from the basement storage vault, and the view they had over the sleepy Miami River.
When Claire and Sean got back to the corridor, she apologized.
“She’s never done that,” she added. “She must have liked you.”
“That’s just my luck,” Sean said. “The older set and the prepubescent are taken by me. It’s the women in between I have trouble with.”
“I’m sure you expect me to believe that,” Claire said sarcastically.
Sean was next treated to a rapid walk through the modern eighty-bed hospital. It was clean, well designed, and apparently well staffed. With its tropical colors and fresh flowers, it was even cheerful despite the gravity of many of the patients’ illnesses. On this leg of the tour, Sean learned that the Forbes Cancer Center had teamed up with the NIH to treat advanced melanoma. With the powerful sunshine, there was a lot of melanoma in Florida.
With the tour completed, Claire told Sean it was time for her to lead him over to the Cow Palace and see that he got settled. He tried to suggest he’d be fine, but she wouldn’t hear of it. With strict orders to stay close, he followed her car out of the Forbes Cancer Center and headed south on Twelfth Avenue. He drove carefully, having heard that most people in Miami carry pistols in their glove compartments. Miami has one of the world’s highest mortality rates from fender-bender accidents.
At Calle Ocho they turned left, and Sean glimpsed the rich Cuban culture that has placed such an indelible mark on modern Miami. At Brickell they turned right and the city changed again. Now he drove past gleaming bank buildings, each an open testament to the financial power of the illicit drug trade.
The Cow Palace was not imposing to say the least. Like so many buildings in the area, it was two stories of concrete block with aluminum sliding doors and windows. It stretched for almost a block with asphalt parking in both the front and the back. The only attractive thing about the place was the tropical plantings, many of which were in bloom.
Sean pulled up next to Claire’s Honda.
After checking the apartment number on the keys, Claire led the way upstairs. Sean’s unit was halfway down the hall at the back. As Claire struggled to get the key into the lock, the door directly opposite opened.
“Just moving in?” a blond man of about thirty asked. He was stripped to the waist.
“Seems that way,” Sean said.
“Name’s Gary,” the man said. “Gary Engels from Philadelphia. I’m an X-ray tech. Working nights, looking for an apartment by day. How about you?”
“Med student,” Sean said as Claire finally opened the door.
The apartment was a furnished one-bedroom with a full kitchen. Sliding glass doors led from both the living room and the bedroom to a balcony that ran the length of the building.
“What do you think?” Claire asked as she opened the living-room slider.
“Much more than I expected,” Sean said.
“It’s hard for the hospital to recruit certain personnel,” Claire said. “Especially high-caliber nurses. They have to have a good temporary residence to compete with other local hospitals.”
“Thank you for everything,” Sean said.
“One last thing,” Claire said. She handed him a piece of paper. “This is the number of the tux rental place that Dr. Mason mentioned. I assume you’ll be coming tonight.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Sean said.
“You really should come,” Claire said. “These affairs are one of the perks for working at the Center.”
“Are they frequent?” Sean asked.
“Relatively,” Claire said. “They really are fun.”
“So you’ll be there?” Sean asked.
“Most definitely.”
“Well then, maybe I’ll come,” he said. “I haven’t worn a tux too many times. It should be entertaining.”
“Wonderful,” Claire said. “And since you might have trouble finding Dr. Mason’s home, I don’t mind picking you up. I live in Coconut Grove just down the way. How about seven-thirty?”
“I’ll be ready,” Sean said.
HIROSHI GYUHAMA had been born in Yokosuka, south of Tokyo. His mother had worked in the U.S. Naval base, and from an early age Hiroshi had been interested in America and Western ways. His mother felt differently, refusing to let him take English in school. An obedient child, Hiroshi acquiesced to his mother’s wishes without question. It wasn’t until after her death when he was at the university studying biology that he was able to take English, but once he began he displayed an unusual proficiency.
After graduation Hiroshi was hired by Sushita Industries, a huge electronics corporation that had just begun expanding into biotechnology. When Hiroshi’s supervisors discovered how fluent he was in English, they sent him to Florida to supervise their investment in Forbes.
Except for an initial difficulty involving two Forbes researchers who refused to cooperate, a dilemma which had been handled expeditiously by bringing them to Tokyo and then offering them enormous salaries, Hiroshi had faced no serious problems during his tenure at Forbes.
Sean Murphy’s unexpected arrival was a different story. For Hiroshi and the Japanese in general any surprise was disturbing. Also, for them, Harvard was more of a metaphor than a specific institution. It stood for American excellence and American ingenuity. Accordingly Hiroshi worried that Sean could take some of Forbes’s developments back to Harvard where the American university might beat them to possible patents. Since Hiroshi’s future advancement at Sushita rested on his ability to protect the Forbes investment, he saw Sean as a potential threat.
