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Authors: Ken McClure

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‘Which Grumman Schalk have refused to provide.’

‘Exactly – and that’s why I’m asking you to include Gavin’s work in the television programme. We need to put pressure on the
company
. Public opinion can be a pretty strong weapon; it would level the playing field a bit.’

Sutcliffe appeared uncomfortable, but couldn’t think of a cogent argument against this. ‘I’m really not sure,’ was the best he could offer.

‘But you will consider it?’

‘We have until Thursday of next week before we have to agree the programme’s final format. I need hardly point out that if we were to incorporate Gavin’s work, someone else would have to stand down …’

‘How about Gerald Montague?’ said Simmons, almost immediately regretting letting his tongue run away with him.

Sutcliffe’s face darkened. ‘Gerald’s work on the temperature sensitive differences between tumour cells and healthy ones is showing great promise. Gerald Montague is a most distinguished researcher.’

Simmons remained silent.

‘I’ll let you know my decision.’

Simmons took this as his cue to leave. He stopped beside Gavin in the lab to say, ‘Graham will let us know about the TV programme,’ before going into his office and calling Jack Martin. ‘I need a beer.’

 

‘Drinking again?’ asked Jenny when her husband arrived home a little after seven.

‘Just the one, Constable …’

‘Lor luv us. Whatever’s going to become of me and the children?’ said Jenny, affecting a cockney flower-girl accent. ‘I take it Graham wasn’t too enthusiastic?’

‘He didn’t say no, but he would have liked to. I just don’t
understand
why everyone is being so negative about something that has the potential to be the first real breakthrough in years. It’s almost as if they see it as a threat.’

‘It is,’ said Jenny. ‘If you wipe out cancer, what are cancer
researchers
going to do? Thousands of people will be out of a job.’

Simmons, who obviously hadn’t looked at it in this way, stared at her for a moment before saying, ‘Jesus, I don’t even want to go there.’ He slumped down into a chair and held his head in his hands as he stared at the floor.

Jenny got up and stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. ‘Why don’t you take your shoes off and I’ll fix you a large whisky … which I bought instead of food for the children …’

Simmons put back his head and closed his eyes. ‘Time they were up chimneys anyway, earning their keep.’

 

‘How’s Gavin taking all this?’ asked Jenny, when they had finished their evening meal.

‘Pretty well, considering. He’s never exactly been a fan of the establishment, but I don’t think even he thought it could be this bad. He’s kept his cool this far, but he might snap if all this gets bogged down in the offices of patent lawyers.’

‘What about the TV programme?’

‘I might snap if they put in Gerald Montague’s crap instead of Gavin’s work. It’s our best chance of putting pressure on Grumman Schalk to start making Valdevan available again.’

‘What’s Montague’s stuff about anyway?’

‘He thinks tumour cells are more sensitive to heat than normal cells and has produced a million graphs and given a hundred
seminars
to show it.’

‘So, where’s he going with it?’

‘Nowhere, unless he intends dropping cancer patients in boiling water.’

‘But I take it no one will be pointing this out on the programme?’

‘You take it right,’ snorted Simmons. ‘His peers will nod sagely and pronounce the distinguished professor’s work to be extremely interesting.’

‘I hate to see you down like this.’

‘God, it’s ironic when you think about it. This is the sort of moment we’ve all been working towards for years. We could be on the very brink of a cure for cancer and we’re all at each other’s throats. Crazy.’

‘Let’s watch some shit television. It’ll take our minds off things.’

 

‘Look, Gavin,’ said Caroline. ‘I hate to say this, but maybe they’re right and maybe you
are
rushing things a bit? It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re dismissing the whole idea out of hand.’

They were talking at a table in Doctors. Gavin was rotating his beer glass constantly, in a nervous gesture which was beginning to annoy Caroline. She put her hand on his wrist to stop him.

‘You didn’t hear what Ehrman said.’

‘No, I didn’t – but if what Jack Martin says is true, about
Valdevan
being out of patent, Grumman Schalk are not in any
position
to have the final say anyway.’

‘Not on paper,’ agreed Gavin. ‘But he seemed pretty sure the other companies would toe the line, so it comes to the same thing in the end.’

‘A bit of publicity will soon put a stop to that.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘Cheer up, Gav. Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy, but when you publish your findings, the scientific and medical community will draw their own conclusions and start asking questions. A torrent of angry letters to the
BMJ
should help Valdevan make a comeback. And you could always canvass the support of the cancer charities.’

‘I think Frank’s pinning all his hopes on this BBC TV
programme
, but you’re right; it wouldn’t do any harm to have a
backup
plan.’

‘From what you’ve said, the main objections are that Valdevan didn’t work the first time around and polymyxin is toxic. The first is irrelevant – you were the one who showed them exactly why Valdevan didn’t work – and, in any case, you’re not trying to use it to kill tumour cells. The second is probably not valid because of the reduced dosage you’d be using. Actually, maybe it would be useful to demonstrate that?’

‘How?’

‘Ask for volunteers to take a reduced dosage of polymyxin,
measure
their blood levels to see if they’re achieving the level you need, and monitor them for side-effects.’

‘Why the hell didn’t I think of that?’ exclaimed Gavin. ‘It wouldn’t be like trying out a new drug, so none of the legal
restrictions
would apply. If no one showed any ill effects, it would scupper any objections along those lines. Brilliant!’

Caroline made an all-in-a-day’s-work gesture and asked, ‘What kind of reduced dosage are we talking about here?’

‘The sums say that a quarter of the normal dose should give a high enough level to kill off damaged tumour cells.’

‘That’s a big reduction, so there shouldn’t really be a problem. Want me to ask my classmates?’

‘That’d be brilliant. I’ll talk to Frank about this in the morning.’

 

On Thursday morning Frank Simmons was called to Graham
Sutcliffe
’s office. He was surprised to meet Jack Martin on the way and learn that he’d also been summonsed.

Sutcliffe seemed in a good mood when they entered, and Liz served up coffee with a knowing smile on her lips.

‘I’ve had a call from Grumman Schalk,’ said Sutcliffe, sitting back in his chair and making a steeple with his fingers. ‘It’s good news: nothing in black and white yet, but it seems we’re almost certain to get the block grant.’

‘Congratulations,’ echoed Martin and Simmons.

‘Congratulations to all of us, I think. This means a considerable expansion for our department and, as I mentioned at the outset, justification for the creation of two new personal chairs …’
Sutcliffe
paused to give his words time to take effect. ‘I have decided that you two should be the members of staff to benefit from this. I take it neither of you would have any objection to becoming
Professors
Simmons and Martin?’

‘None at all,’ said Jack Martin.

‘I’d be honoured,’ said Simmons. ‘But I think I would still like your assurance that we will have the chance to debate the
conditions
attached to the Grumman Schalk award.’

‘You have it, Frank,’ smiled Sutcliffe. ‘All I ask is that you do not dig your heels in on a matter of principle and refuse to budge,
without
looking at things in the wider context. Consider the advantages as well as the disadvantages.’

Simmons nodded.

‘I must ask you to keep this under your hats for the moment, just until the paperwork appears and it all becomes official.’

‘Of course.’

 

‘That was a surprise,’ said Jack Martin as he and Simmons walked back along the corridor. ‘I thought we were in for some kind of bollocking.’

‘It’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease,’ said Simmons.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘He’s buying us off. We’re the only two to have raised any
question
about Grumman’s editorial control over what we publish in future. Now it’s a case of keep your mouths shut and you’ll both get personal chairs.’

Martin let out a long sigh. ‘I think that’s going a bit far, Frank. Graham’s right about viewing everything in context. The block grant money will make an enormous difference to this place, and we are probably the two most senior members of staff.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Heard anything back from Unived?’

‘Maybe tomorrow.’

Simmons closed the door of his office behind him a bit more roughly than he’d intended, but it reflected his mood. He’d just been told that he was about to be made a full professor and he felt bad. He was angry at feeling bad when he should be feeling good and thinking of celebration, but the suspicion that he was being bought off just wouldn’t go away. Maybe it was him? Maybe he expected too much of other people? Maybe this was just the way the world worked? This line of thought only evoked memories of Mary lecturing Gavin on the subject, which didn’t help. He was glad when a knock came at his door. He needed distraction.

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