“Fax it to me now.” Peter did, and there was a long silence, while Paul-Louis read the memo. For the next hour they went backward and forward over the research, while Peter answered as many questions as he could, and then finally there was yet another long silence, and Peter sensed that Paul-Louis had made his mind up. “It's very subjective, you understand. At this stage, there is not necessarily a clear-cut interpretation. It is a good thing, of course. It is a wonderful product which will change our ability to cope with cancer. But there are additional elements that must be evaluated. It is that evaluation which is so difficult to give you. Nothing is sure in life. Nothing is without risk, or cost. The question is if you are willing to pay it.” He sounded very French in his philosophy, but Peter understood him.
“The question for us is how great the risk is.” “I understand that.” He understood it perfectly. It was what had worried him in June while Peter had been in Paris. “And the new research is good, unquestionably. They're on the right track now …” His voice trailed off as he frowned and lit a cigarette. All the scientists Peter had met in Europe were smokers.
“But are we there yet?” Peter asked hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“No …not yet …” Suchard said sadly. “Perhaps soon, if they continue to work in this direction. But you are not there yet. In my opinion Vicotec is still potentially dangerous, particularly in unskilled hands,” which were precisely the hands it was meant for. It was being made for laymen to use, at home if necessary. It meant staying at home for chemotherapy, and not going to hospitals, or even doctors.
“Is it still a killer, Paul-Louis?” That was what he had called it in June. Peter could still hear him.
“I think so.” The voice on the other end sounded apologetic but clear. “You're not there yet, Peter. Give it time. You will be.”
“And the hearings?'
“When are they?”
Peter looked at his watch. It was five o'clock in the morning. “In nine hours. At two o'clock this afternoon. I'm leaving the house in two hours.” He was taking an eight o'clock plane, and planned to appear before Congress at eleven.
“I don't envy you, my friend. There is very little I can say. If you want to be honest, you must tell them that this will be a wonderful drug, but it is not ready yet. You are still in process.”
“You don't go before the FDA to say that. We're asking for permission for early clinical trials, based on our laboratory testing. Frank wants it on the market as soon as we can push it through all the phases of human trials, and get FDA approval.”
Suchard whistled at the other end. “That's frightening. Why is he pushing so hard?”
“He wants to retire in January. And he wants to know it's well on its way before that. This would have been his farewell gift to mankind. And mine. Instead it feels like a time bomb.”
“It is, Peter. You must know that.”
“I do. But no one else wants to hear it. He says he'll pull the product before the end of the year if we're not ready to use it on humans. But he's still insisting we go to Washington. To tell you the truth, it's a long story.” It had to do with the ego of an old man, and calculated risk in a billion-dollar business. But in this case, Frank's calculations were not good ones, and they were based on his ego. It was a dangerous move that could destroy his whole business, but he still refused to see that. And the odd thing was that Peter saw it so clearly. Frank was being stubborn to the point of insanity. Maybe he was getting senile, or just crazed with his own power. It was impossible to know that.
He thanked Paul-Louis for his help, and the Frenchman wished him luck, and when he hung up, Peter went to make a pot of coffee. He still had the option to back out, but he just couldn't see how to do that. He could also go to the hearings, and then resign from Wilson-Donovan, but that wouldn't protect the people he had tried to help and was being forced to put at risk now. The trouble was he didn't trust Frank to cancel its human trials, if their lab reports didn't improve radically in the immediate future. Something told Peter he was too willing to gamble. There was too much money to be made here, no matter what the risk to human life. The temptation was too great now.
Katie heard him stirring a little while later, and she came out to the kitchen before the alarm went off. She found Peter at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, drinking his second cup of coffee. She had never seen him like that before, he looked almost worse than her father right after his heart attack.
“What are you so worried about?” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. But it was too hard to explain it to her, it was obvious she didn't understand it, or want to. “It'll be over before you know it.” She made it sound like a root canal, instead of the violation of everything he believed in. His ethics, his integrity, his principles were all in jeopardy and she couldn't see that. He looked up at her unhappily as she sat across the table, looking as trim and as cool as ever in her pink nightgown.