“The BCR-ABL protein causes the abnormal CML cells to grow and reproduce in an out-of-control way. Eventually, they crowd out the regular cells in the bone marrow like normal myeloid, or white cells, red blood cells, and platelets.”
“They have low blood counts and they’re getting transfusions,” Mickey said.
“I see. Have they been started on chemotherapy yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, well the standard drugs to treat CML are called TKIs, or tyrosine kinase inhibitors. They can be quite effective in achieving remissions, even cures. However, the experience in children is far more limited than in adults, and TKIs are less effective in kids. I’d say that the majority of pediatric CML patients that I see go on to receive bone marrow transplants, many with excellent results. But please understand that transplants are only done in patients in remission. Your granddaughters are certainly in an acute phase, so they’ll need to get TKIs as first-line treatment.”
“These drugs—they have side effects?”
“They do, and whoever will be treating them will explain these in detail. Again, the experience using them in children is quite limited, so the long-term effects are not as well understood as we’d like.”
“Who would you recommend to treat them in Italy?”
“Well, my first, second, and third choice would be Bruno Spara at the Bambino Gesù Hospital in Rome. Bruno and I have collaborated on research projects in the past. He’s really top-notch.”
“Would you send one of your relatives to him?”
“I absolutely would. I’ll pass along his contact info and if you like, I can give him a heads-up that you’ll be in touch.”
“I’m grateful, Doctor. Your hospital can expect to receive a generous donation from my foundation.”
“Always appreciated,” she said.
*
When Marcus knocked on the door to Mickey’s hotel room, he found him with his phone to his ear. He had booked himself the largest suite, and Marcus cooled his heels in the living room while Mickey finished up his call in the bedroom.
“How’d the press conference go?” Mickey asked when he was done.
“You didn’t watch?”
“Yeah, but it was only in Italian, so I have no idea.”
“CNN was there.”
“Well, they weren’t broadcasting it live,” Mickey said with fierce irritation. “Would you mind just telling me?”
This was the Mickey that Marcus knew and didn’t love. He eyed the full bottles of liquor laid out on a sideboard and said, “The Italian press has been getting leaks from everywhere. They knew that something funny was going on about the girls’ ages; they knew they were both sick. They even knew that you’d hired an American security guy—me—and that the Carabinieri were giving me a lot of access.”
“How’d Lumaga handle it?”
“He’s good at the art of non-statements and dissembling.”
“When this is over, he should come work for me in corporate communications.”
“How’re the kids?”
“They’re okay. We’re going to be moving them to Rome.”
“When?”
“As soon as possible. I’ve got to make some calls. When it’s locked down, we’re going to need good security at the new hospital.”
“Just let me know the details and I’ll coordinate with Lumaga. Is that why you had me come?”
“No, something else. My office put through a call from a French lady. It was quite something.”
“How so?”
“She’s a psychic and—”
He used the absurdity to get up and help himself to a Scotch. “Come on, Mickey,” he said, breaking the seal.
“Hear me out, damn it. And help yourself to a drink, why don’t you?”
Marcus poured a stiff one. “Thank you, I will.”
“This gal—I forget her name—she says she had a vision, or whatever the hell psychics have. It was about the girls.”
Marcus tugged at the drink and muttered, “Oh brother.”
“Well, oh brother this: she said that Jesper, Elena, and the girls were abducted by aliens. She said they were taken to a spaceship. She said they had medical probes.”
“Good for her,” Marcus said.
“Did anyone at the press conference know that’s what the girls said?”
“None of that came up, no. But it’s just going to be some random kind of bullshit assertion. The so-called psychic got lucky. Why are we even talking about it?”
“Because she knew some details that only you, me, and the police know.”
“Maybe she knows someone in the Carabinieri who’s been leaking.”
“Maybe so, but were they leaking about it almost four years ago?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She says she sent me a letter almost four years ago. She sent me a photocopy. Here, read it.”
Marcus took Mickey’s phone and opened the text attachment sent from a French mobile number. The letter was composed on pink stationery with a feminine sort of handwriting and was dated four years ago, as Mickey said.
My Dear Mr. Andreason,
I have been following with sadness the tragedy that has befallen your loved ones in Italy and I would like to offer my services (at no cost, of course). You see, I have had certain psychic abilities ever since I was young and I have had a vision about what happened to your family. I do not know why they were taken but they were abducted and transported onto a spaceship by a race of aliens who have been studying them to understand our species. In my vision, the two young girls were in a pure white chamber. The alien creatures have gray skin and large dark eyes. If you would accept my offer of help, perhaps I will be able to gain further insights into their fates.
Sincerely yours,
Celeste Bobier
Marcus gave Mickey his phone back and reestablished contact with his Scotch glass.
“Look, I don’t know how she got these details about what the girls said, but she obviously did and she’s backdated the letter to give it credence.”
“That’s what I thought too. Maybe you don’t know, because I fired you, but I received sacks of letters sent to the company from all over the world about sightings and the like. Every one of them was read in case they contained real tips, and we had them archived by date. Don’t look at me that way. I’m an engineer and engineers are organized by nature. I had
