has been investigating Sean Murphy. His name is Tanaka Yamaguchi.”
Dr. Mason felt the tortellini in his stomach turn upside down.
“Have you ever heard of this man?” Sterling asked.
“No,” Dr. Mason said. He’d not heard of him, but with a name like that, the implications were obvious.
“My assumption would be he’s working for Sushita,” Sterling said. “And I know that he is aware of Sean Murphy’s involvement with Immunotherapy. I know because Sean’s mother told him.”
“He’d been to see Sean’s mother?” Dr. Mason asked with alarm.
“As have I,” Sterling said.
“But then Sean will know he’s being investigated,” Dr. Mason sputtered.
“Nothing wrong in that,” Sterling said. “If Sean is an industrial spy, it will give him pause. If he’s not, it will only be a matter of curiosity or at worst a minor irritation. Sean’s reaction should not be your concern. You should be worried about Tanaka Yamaguchi.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never met Tanaka,” Sterling said. “But I have heard a lot about him since we’re competitors of sorts. He came to the United States many years ago for college. He’s the eldest son of a wealthy industrial family, heavy machinery I believe. The problem was he adapted to ‘degenerate’ American ways a bit too easily for the family’s honor. He was swiftly Americanized and became too individualistic for Japanese tastes. The family decided they didn’t want him home so they funded a lavish lifestyle. It’s been a kind of exile, but he’s been clever to augment his allowance by doing what I do, only for Japanese companies operating in the U.S. But he’s like a double agent of sorts, frequently representing the Yakusa at the same time he’s representing a legitimate firm. He’s clever, he’s ruthless, and he’s effective. The fact that he’s involved means your Sushita friends are serious.”
“You think he was involved with our two researchers who disappeared and whom you found happily working for Sushita in Japan?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sterling said.
“I can’t afford to have this Harvard student disappear,” Dr. Mason said. “That would be the kind of media event that could destroy the Forbes.”
“I don’t think there is a worry for the moment,” Sterling said. “My sources tell me Tanaka is still here in Boston. Since he has access to a lot of the same information as I, he must think Sean Murphy is involved in something else.”
“Like what?” Dr. Mason asked.
“I’m not sure,” Sterling said. “I haven’t been able to locate all that money those kids made when they sold Immunotherapy. Neither Sean nor his friends have any personal money to speak of, and none of them indulged themselves with expensive cars or other high-ticket items. I think they are up to something, and I believe Tanaka thinks so too.”
“Good God!” Dr. Mason said. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should send the kid home.”
“If you think Sean can help you with that protein work you told me about,” Sterling said, “then hold tight. I believe I have everything under control. I have made inquiries with numerous contacts, and because of the computer industry here, I’m well connected. All you have to do is tell me to remain on the case and continue paying the bills.”
“Keep on it,” Dr. Mason said. “And keep me informed.”
5
Janet was up, dressed in her white uniform, and out of the apartment early since her shift ran from seven to three. At that time of the morning there was very little traffic on I95, especially northbound. She and Sean had discussed driving together but in the end decided it would be better if each had their own wheels.
Janet felt a little queasy entering the Forbes Hospital that morning. Her anxiety went beyond the usual nervousness associated with starting a new job. The prospect of breaking rules was what had her on edge and tense. She already felt guilty to a degree; it was guilt by intent.
Janet made it to the fourth floor with time to spare. She poured herself a cup of coffee and proceeded to familiarize herself with the locations of the charts, the pharmacy locker, and the supply closet: areas she would need to be familiar with to carry out her job as a floor nurse. By the time she sat down for report with the night shift going off duty and the day shift coming on, she was significantly calmer than she had been when she first arrived. Marjorie’s cheerful presence no doubt helped put her at ease.
Report was routine except for Helen Cabot’s deteriorating condition. The poor woman had had several seizures during the night, and the doctors said that her intracranial pressure was rising.
“Do they think the problem is related to the CAT scan-driven biopsy yesterday?” Marjorie asked.
“No,” Juanita Montgomery, the night shift supervisor, said. “Dr. Mason was in at three A.M. when she seized again, and he said the problem was probably related to the treatment.”
“She’s started treatment already?” Janet asked.
“Absolutely,” Juanita said. “Her treatment started Tuesday, the night she got here.”
“But she just had her biopsy yesterday,” Janet said.
“That’s for the cellular aspect of her treatment,” Marjorie chimed in. “She’ll be pheresed today to harvest T lymphocytes which will be grown and sensitized to her tumor. But the humoral aspect of her treatment was started immediately.”
“They used mannitol to bring down her intracranial pressure,” Juanita added. “It seemed to work. She hasn’t seized again. They want to avoid steroids and a shunt if possible. At any rate, she’s got to be monitored carefully, especially with the pheresis.”
As soon as report was over and the bleary-eyed night shift had departed, the day’s work began in earnest. Janet found herself extremely busy. There were a lot of sick patients on the floor, representing a wide range of cancers, and each was on an individual treatment protocol. The most heartrending for Janet was an angelic boy of nine who was on reverse precautions while they waited for a bone marrow transplant to repopulate his marrow with blood-forming cells. He’d been given a strong dose of chemotherapy and radiation to wipe out completely his own leukemic marrow. At the moment he was completely vulnerable to any microorganisms, even those normally not pathogenic for humans.
By mid-morning, Janet finally had a chance to catch her breath. Most of the nurses took their coffee breaks in the utility room off the nurses’ station where they could put up their tired feet. Janet decided to take advantage of the time to have Tim Katzenburg show her how to access the Forbes computer. Every patient had a traditional chart and a computer file. Janet wasn’t intimidated by computers, having minored in computer science in college. But it still helped to have someone familiar with the Forbes system get her started.
When Tim was distracted for a moment by a phone call from the lab, Janet called up Helen Cabot’s file. Since Helen had been there less than forty-eight hours, the file was not extensive. There was a computer graphic showing which of her three tumors they had biopsied and the location of the trephination of the skull just above the right ear. The biopsy specimen was grossly described as firm, white, and of an adequate amount. It said that the specimen had been immediately packed in ice and sent to Basic Diagnostics. In the treatment section it said that she’d begun on MB-300C and MB-303C at a dosage of 100mg/Kg/day of body weight administered at 0.05 ml/Kg/minute.
Janet glanced over at Tim who was still busy on the phone. On a scrap of paper, she wrote down the treatment information. She also wrote down the alpha numeric designator, T- 9872, that was listed as the diagnosis along with the descriptive term: medulloblastoma, multiple.
Using the diagnostic designator, Janet next called up the names of the patients with medulloblastoma who were currently in the hospital. There were a total of five including the three on the fourth floor. The other two were Margaret Demars on the third floor, and Luke Kinsman, an eight-year-old, in the pediatric wings of the fifth floor.
