Hypocrite's Isle (26 page)

‘I don’t want to patent it,’ exclaimed Gavin. ‘I want someone to try it out.’

‘I can understand that,’ said Welsh. ‘But I’m afraid that’s
something
we really can’t help you with. It’s outwith our remit.’

‘Outwith your remit,’ echoed Gavin. ‘You mean, if you can’t sell it, you’re not interested?’

‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’

‘How would you put it? Christ, you’re the Medical Research Council! Isn’t there a wee clue in the name?’

‘Does your supervisor know you’re making this call?’

‘Do they stick batteries up your arse in the morning?’

Gavin walked back to the med school, still fuming. He was met on the stairs by Tom Baxter who said, ‘I’ve been looking for you all over the place. Sutcliffe wants to see you and Frank.’

Simmons, who had been waiting for Gavin to turn up, was checking his watch and on the point of leaving the lab when Gavin appeared. They hurried along the corridor to Sutcliffe’s office
together
, only to be told by Liz that the time for a private meeting had passed. The departmental meeting about the BBC programme was now in progress in the small seminar room.

Simmons inclined his head towards Gavin as if asking a silent question, and Liz went on, ‘Graham said you should both attend.’

They entered to find Graham Sutcliffe and the academic staff in the early stages of discussing the programme format.

‘Ah, there you are,’ said Sutcliffe. ‘I did want to have a word in private with you two before the start of this meeting but … you weren’t available. Anyway, not to put too fine a point on it, I have decided that Gavin’s work, laudable though it is, should not be included in the programme at this particular moment in time.’

There was a hush in the room. ‘Why not?’ asked Simmons. ‘It has all the signs of being the most significant development in
cancer
research for years.’

‘It has potential, I’ll grant you, but all the objections I raised at the outset still stand, I’m afraid.’

‘Except one,’ said Simmons. ‘We’ve been running a trial on
low-dose
polymyxin treatment over the past week. Twelve volunteers were injected with the drug at the low dosage required and we’ve seen no side-effects … None at all.’

‘Be that as it may …’

‘Don’t dismiss it lightly, Graham; that was one of your major objections,’ said Simmons.

‘One of them,’ countered Sutcliffe.

‘Perhaps you’d care to remind everyone of the others?’

‘I will not be cross-examined in this manner,’ snapped Sutcliffe.

‘It’s important that we all know,’ said Simmons, as calmly as he could with a racing pulse and the feeling that he had just crossed the Rubicon uppermost in his mind.

‘I will not be party to anything that promises false hope to vulnerable people,’ announced Sutcliffe.

‘It’s real hope, Graham. It’s what you plan to put in the
programme
that’s going nowhere. I don’t mind the old boys patting each other on the back and calling each other distinguished, even dishing out prizes to one another, but not at the expense of the exclusion of something like this. If you won’t include Gavin
Donnelly
’s work in the programme, I’ll seek publicity for it elsewhere.’

‘Which would be totally irresponsible and might well be construed as bringing this university into disrepute,’ stormed Sutcliffe.

Simmons noted the threat of bigger guns being brought to bear on him, but did not react.

‘I urge you to think again,’ continued Sutcliffe. ‘To announce publicly that an untried –’

‘We are not exactly getting the chance to try it, are we?’
interrupted
Simmons.

Sutcliffe continued unabashed. ‘By announcing that an
untried
and untested treatment could be their salvation would be putting the health and welfare of thousands of vulnerable people at risk.’

Simmons snapped. With a preliminary glance at the heavens as if seeking divine help, he leaned forward and fixed Sutcliffe with blazing eyes. ‘THEY’RE DYING OF CANCER, FOR FUCK’S SAKE! THEY DON’T HAVE ANY FUCKING HEALTH AND WELFARE ISSUES. THEY ARE DYING, OR HAD THAT
ESCAPED
YOUR ATTENTION?’

Jack Martin leapt to his feet, holding up his hands in an attempt to interrupt proceedings and limit the damage. He was helped by the stunned silence that enveloped the audience. ‘Gentlemen, this is getting us nowhere,’ he pleaded. ‘I suggest that we all calm down, get some coffee and reconvene in say, half an hour?’

People were ready to agree.

Gavin was back in the lab first. He told Mary and Tom what had happened. ‘Frank lost it big time. What a hero. You should have seen Sutcliffe’s face.’

‘I really don’t understand why Graham refuses to have your stuff in the programme, as a preliminary study if nothing else. You’d think it would do the department nothing but good,’ said Mary.

‘It’s personal,’ suggested Tom. ‘He really doesn’t like you.’

This brought a smile of resignation from Gavin just as Simmons came into the room. He looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I don’t think you should come back into the meeting, Gavin,’ he said. ‘Just in case the professor decides to make it a double crucifixion.’

‘You were brilliant,’ said Gavin.

‘No, I wasn’t,’ insisted Simmons. ‘I lost my temper and blew any chance we might have had of getting Professor Sutcliffe to change his mind.’

‘He was never going to do that, Frank,’ said Gavin.

‘I don’t think so either,’ said Mary, and Tom nodded his
agreement
, adding, ‘He hates Gavin.’

‘All the same …’ Simmons let out his breath in a long, weary sigh. ‘Any coffee going?’

The four of them stood in the lab sipping coffee, Simmons
preoccupied
by what had happened and the others trying to think of something light to say. When all else failed, Gavin told Simmons of his earlier conversation with the head of the MRC technology transfer unit. Simmons shook his head. ‘Christ, who would have thought that it would be so …’ He let the slump in his shoulders say the rest.

Simmons suggested that Gavin maintain a low profile for the time being. He would call him when there had been some kind of resolution. He started out to return to the meeting when he met Liz in the corridor. ‘I heard what happened,’ she whispered in confidential fashion. ‘Graham’s desperately afraid he’ll lose it if you don’t back down over Gavin,’ she said.

‘Lose what?’

‘The block grant …’

Simmons’ eyes opened wide. ‘Are you saying that Grumman Schalk have been pressurising Graham?’

Liz looked alarmed. ‘I thought you knew,’ she murmured, as the enormity of her slip hit home to her. ‘Oh, my God, what have I done?’

Simmons patted her arm, although his mind had just gone into overdrive. ‘It’s all right, Liz,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it. It would have come out anyway …’

It was Jack Martin, not Graham Sutcliffe, who was first to speak when the meeting reconvened. It seemed only right as he had cast himself in the role of peacemaker before the break. He did his best to make light of what had gone before with references to passions running high and the ‘emotional minefield’ of a subject like cancer. He expressed the hope that they could put it all behind them.

Simmons’ regret and embarrassment at his earlier outburst had now been replaced by an anger that smouldered inside him as he watched the head of department get to his feet.

Graham Sutcliffe began in conciliatory tone. ‘I fully recognise the enthusiasm that some of you feel for Gavin Donnelly’s work,’ he said. ‘But I must emphasise that my first consideration as head of this department has to be the reputation of the department and, indeed, the university. It would be foolish for us to go over the top about something which is, at this point, little more than an
interesting
observation in a test tube. It was for that reason that I decided that Donnelly’s work will not be included in the BBC programme. I hope that after giving it some thought, you, my colleagues, will come to agree with me and not seek ill-advised publicity for what is after all –’

‘A thorn in Grumman Schalk’s side,’ interrupted Simmons in a level monotone.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Simmons’ gaze did not waver as he asked, ‘What was the threat, Graham? Keep the lid on Gavin’s work or you lose the block grant?’

There were gasps in the room and all eyes were on Simmons, whose unwavering and accusing stare at Sutcliffe suggested a man very sure of his ground.

‘How dare you!’

‘No, how dare you, Graham? I was prepared for Grumman Schalk’s interference in what we could or could not submit for publication if we accepted their money, but I didn’t expect them to start running the department before we’d even got it.’

Sutcliffe was almost apoplectic.

‘Will everyone please calm down,’ appealed Jack Martin, above the hubbub which had broken out.

As order was restored, Martin looked at Simmons and said, ‘That is a very serious accusation, Frank.’

‘And I’m waiting for a response.’

Martin turned and looked almost apologetically at Sutcliffe, who took a deep breath and got to his feet. ‘This is a total
misrepresentation
of the facts,’ he said, but his words lacked conviction and the room sensed it. ‘Quite understandably, Grumman Schalk, like me, believes that it is not in the interests of anyone to have publicity given to Donnelly’s work at this stage.’

‘Or any stage,’ said Simmons coldly. ‘Did they threaten to
withdraw
the offer of the block grant if you didn’t play ball?’

There was a long pause while it seemed to Simmons that Sutcliffe was trying to work out just how much he knew. ‘Not in so many words …’

All around the room eyes were cast downwards as Sutcliffe’s answer was seen as an admission.

‘Well, of course “not in so many words”, Graham. How did they dress it up?’

‘It’s not a question of dressing anything up,’ spluttered Sutcliffe. ‘The company simply feels that if Donnelly’s work were to be given undue publicity on such a programme as the BBC intends to
produce
, their refusal to put Valdevan back in production might lead to adverse publicity and – a misinterpretation of their motives –
something
that might well have financial repercussions for them –’

‘And lead to a withdrawal of the grant offer,’ completed
Simmons
.

‘Which is a perfectly understandable point of view to those of us …’

Who have to live in the real world
, thought Simmons as he saw it coming.

‘Who have to live in the real world.’

Simmons left the room.

Simmons was sitting alone in his office, feet up on the desk, head back, staring at the ceiling, when Jack Martin put his head round the door. ‘So where do you go from here?’

Simmons sighed. ‘I don’t know, but I do know I’m not going to give up on this. If Sutcliffe won’t put Gavin’s work in the
programme
, I’m definitely going to seek exposure for it elsewhere.’

‘In which case Grumman Schalk will definitely pull the plug on the grant.’

Simmons looked at Martin questioningly. ‘What are you saying, Jack?’

Martin shrugged in a gesture of innocence. ‘I’m just making sure that you know what you’re getting yourself into. It’s not just Sutcliffe who desperately wants the grant, it’s the university. We’re talking big bucks here, and Old College is like a thirsty sponge when it comes to cash.’

‘Jesus! That’s why they blocked the patent application!’
exclaimed
Simmons, as if suddenly realising it. ‘It had nothing to do with them risking precious university funds. They were dancing to Grumman’s tune too.’

‘I should think you’ll get quite a lot of fancy footwork for twenty million,’ said Martin.

‘And where do you stand on all of this, Jack?’ asked Simmons, watching his friend’s reactions. ‘Presumably, no grant means no personal chairs?’

Martin gave a resigned shrug. ‘Graham did make it pretty clear that they were dependent on the department getting Grumman Schalk money and expanding. Maybe I should get you to tell
Lorraine
the bad news instead of me. She was tickled pink at the idea of becoming the wife of a learned professor.’

The remark had been made light-heartedly but the message was there, thought Simmons. He took it as an early warning that Jack Martin had come as far as he was going to in the support stakes and could even be thinking about engaging reverse gear. He suddenly felt very alone. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m for home,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘It’s been one hell of a day.’

‘Fancy a drink?’

‘Maybe not tonight, Jack.’

 

‘So how serious is this?’ asked Jenny when Simmons told her.

‘It’s me and Gavin against the rest of the world.’

‘What about your drinking buddy?’

‘Jack’s starting to waver. Lorraine’s been telling her pals at the lunch club that he’s going to be made a professor.’

‘Oh dear. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m right behind you. I just can’t believe that all these people are putting money before a
possible
cure for cancer. It’s absolutely outrageous.’