Hypocrite's Isle (22 page)

It was time for the moment of truth. He took the polymyxin solution from the fridge and filled a small syringe, knowing exactly how much he was going to inject because he’d done the
calculation
in his head a hundred times since Wednesday. He pressed the plunger and rocked the tube gently to and fro before placing it back under the scope.

‘Sweet Jesus,’ he exclaimed as he watched the tumour cells rupture and die before his eyes. Within seconds he was left with little more than rafts of cell debris drifting across his field of view among the ghosts of the membranes which had once contained it. ‘I don’t
believe
it,’ he murmured. ‘Things this good don’t happen to me …’

Gavin controlled his impulse to get up and dance around the lab but recognised that he had only cleared the first hurdle. The Valdevan-treated cells were wonderfully sensitive to damage by polymyxin but the question now was, were they more sensitive than normal cells? If healthy cells should behave in the same way, there was nothing to get excited about and it would all be a wild goose chase, but polymyxin-based drugs had been used in the past to treat bacterial infections without any report of tissue damage, although they had shown other toxic side effects – the reason their use had largely been confined to topical application in modern times.

First, he would establish the minimum concentration of
polymyxin
necessary to kill tumour cells. He brought out another cell culture and this time injected it with a smaller dose – half the
previous
concentration, but the result was the same. Keeping a grip on his emotions was proving more and more difficult as he halved the concentration yet again and still saw immediate signs of cell death. Surely healthy cells could not possibly behave this way in the
presence
of so little drug?

Gavin couldn’t resist finding out any longer. He fetched one of the primary cell cultures from the incubator and injected it with the smallest dose of polymyxin he’d used so far. There was absolutely no reaction: the healthy cells remained completely unaffected.

He was aware of the thump of his heart as he doubled the
concentration
and got the same result. ‘Bingo!’ he exclaimed. There was a big difference between the sensitivity of tumour cells and normal ones. Right now, he could do what no one else in the world could do. He could specifically target and kill cancer cells.

He allowed himself to ponder this for more than a minute,
savouring
the moment and revelling in the feeling of achievement, before looking for reasons not to believe his results. He couldn’t think of any off-hand, although he did recognise that this was lab science and still might not translate into the treatment of patients, but this was a dream start.

He couldn’t resist carrying out one more ‘show-biz’ experiment before going back to the discipline of establishing the minimum dose of polymyxin necessary to kill cancer cells. This was to mix tumour and normal cells together in the same test tube and add polymyxin. It worked like a dream. The tumour cells with the membrane blips died: the healthy cells without the blips did not.

Gavin called Caroline on her mobile. ‘Where are you?’

‘Waverley station. Where are you?’

‘In the lab. It works! I can kill tumour cells without damaging healthy ones.’

‘Oh, Gavin, I’m so pleased for you. That is bloody brilliant,’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘I’m so sorry for ever doubting you.’

Gavin found himself competing with the station announcer who was announcing a London train departure. ‘It works like a dream!’ he shouted.

‘That’s absolutely wonderful, Gavin. I’m so glad for you. Call me later and tell me all about it. Oh, I’m so pleased for you, Gav. Got to run; my train’s leaving.’

‘Love you.’

‘Love you too.’

Gavin got up from his seat, clenched his fists together, looked up at the ceiling and yelled out, ‘Bloody brilliant!’

‘What is?’ asked Mary Hollis as she came in through the door.

Gavin was overcome by embarrassment. ‘I just got a good result,’ he stammered.

Mary looked puzzled. ‘Already? You only started the
biochemistry
on Monday.’

Gavin’s silence brought a suspicious look to Mary’s eyes. She saw the cell cultures sitting on Gavin’s bench. ‘You’re not still working on Valdevan, are you?’ she asked in disbelief.

Gavin shrugged. ‘Just at evenings and weekends,’ he tried, with a mock apologetic look, and Mary smiled. ‘Gavin, you really are something else.’

‘I’m just curious.’

‘So what’s so “bloody brilliant” or shouldn’t I ask?’

Gavin looked at her for a moment as if undecided whether to say anything or not. ‘I think I know how to kill tumours without harming healthy tissue.’

This seemed a bit much for Mary who sank down into her seat. ‘Just like that,’ she said. ‘You’re telling me you can cure cancer?’

Gavin made a face. ‘Seems like it.’

‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me!’

Gavin outlined what he had been doing and showed her the cultures he’d been looking at.

After a couple of minutes Mary looked up from the microscope and said, ‘I’d like to say something like,
it’s far too soon to be sure,
or
you’re reading far too much into this
, but I can’t. This is absolutely fantastic: there’s no other word for it. Does Frank know about this?’

‘Not yet, I wanted to be sure of my ground. ‘I’ve got a few more things to check out. I’ll speak to him first thing on Monday.’

‘You do realise that if this works
in vivo
, it’s going to be the
biggest
single advance in cancer treatment … ever?’

‘It may have crossed my mind,’ said Gavin.

‘Sorry,’ said Mary. ‘Of course you know it. What a bloody stupid thing to say.’

Gavin smiled affectionately at her. ‘Don’t apologise. You’re one of the good guys.’

‘The whole scientific world will be queuing up to be your friend,’ said Mary. ‘And Graham Sutcliffe will be leading the applause.’

Gavin laughed out loud at the notion. ‘That’ll be worth seeing on its own. So, why are
you
here this morning?’

‘I’m looking for a bit of peace and quiet to write up my paper. My flatmates had other ideas.’

‘I’ll only be here for another half hour and then I’ll leave you in peace,’ said Gavin.

‘I’m really pleased for you, Gavin.’

Gavin could see that she meant it. He smiled and nodded and then, after a moment’s hesitation, he went over to her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks for being so nice to me.’

Mary smiled at the clumsiness of the gesture.

Gavin finished establishing the minimum dose of polymyxin needed to kill tumour cells and cleared his bench. Life was good. It was to get even better on Sunday evening when Gavin met Caroline off the train and she told him that her mother had entered a period of remission. She had been in good form at the weekend and was almost back to being her old self. ‘God, it was so nice to hear her laugh again. She always could be so funny. She has a wicked tongue when she puts her mind to it.’

Caroline picked up on Gavin’s muted response and said, ‘All right, I know it’s just a pause in the nightmare and it will come back, but it was just so good to see her without that terrible barely suppressed bitterness for once. It seemed like … we were friends again.’

They went back to Gavin’s flat where he served up spaghetti bolognese and a bottle of Valpolicella he’d bought from Safeways.

‘Why don’t we get a flat together?’ asked Gavin when they had finished.

Caroline shook her head. ‘We’re fine the way we are. If we move in together we’ll have all the baggage that goes with that – laundry, bills, who does this, who does that – I don’t think I could cope with all that right now. Doesn’t mean to say I don’t love you.’

‘That’s all that matters.’

 

Frank Simmons noticed Mary and Gavin deep in conversation when he came into the lab. Both turned and said ‘Good morning’, before apparently having trouble suppressing laughter over
something
. He closed the door of his office, thinking that laughter was good in the lab. It was the pained silence that followed squabbles that was the enemy of progress. He sat down and started opening his mail when a knock came at the door and Gavin came in.

‘How was your weekend, Frank?’

‘Crap, if you must know. Our babysitter didn’t turn up on Friday night so Jenny was in a bad mood all day Saturday. We took the kids to a country park on Sunday and they squabbled all the way there and all the way back. Domestic bliss. How was yours?’

 

‘You can do what?’ exclaimed Simmons when Gavin told him about his weekend work.

‘I can kill cancer without damaging healthy tissue. All you have to do is pre-treat the tumours with Valdevan and this makes them hypersensitive to cationic detergent drugs like polymyxin.’ Gavin explained his rationale for trying this in the first place and his
subsequent
findings.

‘This is absolutely incredible,’ exclaimed Simmons. ‘If you’re right … and I’m not suggesting for a moment that you’re not … this is going to … Christ, I don’t know.’ He threw his hands in the air. ‘Revolutionise cancer treatment.’

‘Music to my ears,’ said Gavin. ‘I’m sorry I went behind your back to do the experiments. I just couldn’t let it go.’

Simmons waved away the apology with a hand gesture. ‘In this case, the end has justified any means used to achieve it. Who have you told about this, Gavin?’

‘You, Mary, my girlfriend Caroline, that’s about it.’

Simmons nodded. He was finding it difficult to keep his
emotions
in check. He wanted to dance around the lab.

‘What happens now?’ asked Gavin.

‘That’s just what I’m wondering,’ said Simmons, tapping the end of his pen on his desk. ‘My instinct is to tell Grumman Schalk that their drug, Valdevan, can be a wonder drug after all. What do you think?’

‘Seems only fair.’

‘Hang on a minute though,’ said Simmons, remembering
something
. ‘I don’t think you can give patients polymyxin-based drugs any more. They were very toxic as I remember …’

‘I checked up on that,’ said Gavin. ‘They were used to treat bacterial infections when they first came out and you’re right, they did prove to be very toxic, but the level of the drug needed to kill the tumours is way below the dose needed to kill bacteria. I think there’s a good chance that patients won’t experience any side-effects at all.’

‘You seem to have thought of everything,’ smiled Simmons. ‘So who’s going to tell the company, me or you? I take that back; it should be you. Give Max Ehrman a call. Bloody hell, this is going to be the mother and father of all phone calls.’

‘Thanks, Frank.’

 

‘Gavin? What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you? More Valdevan?’

‘Actually, no, I have some news for you, Professor.’

‘Max, please.’

‘Max, I think it might be possible to use Valdevan after all.’

‘I’m sorry? Use Valdevan? For what?’

‘To treat cancer, just as you guys hoped all these years ago.’