Strong Medicine (78 page)

when Celia had visited the old house in the Kite-some vestige of a younger

beauty still remained. But now that, too, was gone.

It was as if the Alzheimer's, which had eaten away his mother's brain, was

devouring her body too.

"It's been my dream," Martin said softly to Yvonne, "to help find something

to prevent most, or some, of this. It will be years, of course, before we

know if we've succeeded. But it's because our research into aging has been

so important that I don't want anything to cheapen what we've found."

Yvonne said, "I do understand. Especially now."

On previous occasions when Martin had brought Yvonne to see his mother,

Yvonne had taken the older woman's hands and sat holding them, saying

nothing. Though no one could be sure, Martin had had an impression it gave

his mother comfort. Today Yvonne did the game thing, but even that thin

communication seemed no longer there.

From the nursing home, they drove to see Martin's father. The flat rented

by Martin was northwest of the city, not far from Girton College, and they

found Peat-Smith, Senior, in a tiny work area behind the building. The

tools of his old trade were spread around, and he was chipping

experimentally at a small piece of marble, using a chisel and a mallet.

"I think you know," Martin said to Yvonne, "that my father used to be a

stonemason."

"Yes. But I didn't know you were still working at it, Mr. PeatSmith."

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"Ain't," the old man said. "Fingers get too damn stiff. Thought, though,

I'd make an 'eadstone for your ma's grave, son. About the only thing left

to do for 'er." He looked at Martin inquiringly. "Is that all right,

seem' she ain't dead yet?"

Martin put his arm around his father's shoulders. "Yes, it is, Dad. Is

there anything you need?"

"I need an 'unk of marble. Costs a bit, though."

"Don't worry about that. Just order what you want, and get them to send

the bill to me."

When Martin looked at Yvonne, he saw that she was crying.

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"I agree with you totally about the sex stimulant effect," Celia told

Martin. "If Peptide 7 became thought of as some kind of aphrodisiac, it

would fall into disrepute as a serious product."

"I think the chances are fair that we can keep it to ourselves," Martin

said.

"I'm less sure," Celia acknowledged, "though I hope you're right. "

It was the second day of her visit to the Harlow institute, and she was

having a private meeting with Martin in his office. Earlier, he had

advised her formally, "I can report that we have what appears to be a

beneficial medication to retard mental aging and aid acuity, the two

things going together. All signs look good."

It seemed, Celia thought, a long way from the time when, on Sam's

instructions, she had visited Harlow to consider closing the institute,

and even longer-it was seven years-since the memorable first meeting at

Cambridge between Sam, herself and Martin.

She said, "There doesn't seem much doubt that you've achieved something

great."

They were relaxed and comfortable with each other. If either, from time

to time, remembered the intimacies of their night as lovers, it was never

mentioned. Clearly that was a moment, an interlude, belonging solely to

the past.

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While Celia was having her talk with Martin, a half-dozen other executives

who had accompanied her from Felding-Roth headquarters were having

separate, specialized discussions about the future of Peptide 7. These

covered a range of subjects-manufacturing, quality control, materials and

sources, costs, packaging, product management-all facets of what would

become a master plan determining how the drug would be introduced and

marketed worldwide. Rao Sastri, Nigel Bentley, and other Harlow staff were

responding to questions from the U.S. team.

Although more than a year of clinical trials still lay ahead and, after

that, approval for Peptide Ts use had to be obtained from governments, many

decisions about the future had to be made now. A major one was the extent

of Felding-Roth's investment in a new manufacturing plant, which would be

either a costly, unprofitable gamble or a shrewd, successful act of faith.

The way in which the drug would be ingested by those who used it was also

important.

Martin told Celia, "We've researched this exhaustively, and recommend

delivery by nasal spray. This is the modem, coming system. There'll be more

and more medicines taken that way in future. "

"Yes, I know. It's being talked about for insulin. Anyway, I'm thankful

you've not produced an injectable."

As both knew, it was a pharmaceutical fact of life that any drug delivered

by injection never sold as well as one which could be taken easily by

patients at home.

"To be used as a nasal spray," Martin explained, "Peptide 7 will be in an

inert saline solution mixed with a detergent. The detergent assures the

best absorption rate."

Several detergents had been experimented with, he disclosed. The best

nontoxic one, creating no irritation of nasal membranes, had been found to

be a new Felding-Roth product recently available in the United States.

Celia was delighted. "You mean we can keep it all in-house?"

"Exactly." Martin smiled. "I thought you'd be pleased."

A normal dosage, he continued, would be twice daily. Two medical doctors,

recently added to the Harlow staff, would coordinate clinical trials in

Britain, beginning at once. "We shall concentrate on the age ranges of

forty to sixty, though in special circumstances that can be varied either

way. We'll also try the drug on patients in

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the early stages of Alzheimer's. It will not reverse the diseasethere's no

hope of doing that-but may retard it."

Celia, in turn, reported plans for North American testing. "We want to

begin as soon as possible. Because of preliminaries and the need for FDA

permission, we'll be a little behind you. But not much."

They continued with their hopeful, exciting plans.

Out of the Harlow talks came a conclusion that a small plastic bottle with

a push top would be the best container for Peptide 7. A suitable dose could

result from the throw of a finger pump.

Such a container system opened up possibilities for attractive, interesting

packaging.

It seemed likely that Felding-Roth would not manufacture the containers,

but would contract them out to a specialist supplier. A decision, though,

would be made in New Jersey.

While Celia was at Harlow, Martin arranged dinner for her with himself and

Yvonne. Showing his sensitivity, Celia thought, he did not take them to the

Churchgate, but to the dining room of a newer hotel, the Saxon Inn.

At first the two women inspected each other curiously, but after a short

while, and despite the difference in ages-Celia was fortyeight, Yvonne

twenty-seven-they seemed to slip into an easy friendship, perhaps because

of their affinity with Martin.

Celia was admiring of Yvonne's decision to apply to veterinary college.

When Yvonne pointed out that if accepted, she would be older than most

students, Celia advised, "You'll do better because of that." And she told

Martin, "We've a fund at Felding-Roth, set up to help employees who want to

improve their education. I think we can bend the rules sufficiently to give

Yvonne some financial aid."

Martin raised his eyebrows. "Yvonne, it looks as if your cost of living

just got paid."

When she expressed gratitude, Celia waved it away and said, smiling, "From

what I've been told, you contributed a lot to getting Peptide 7 where it

is."

Later, when Yvonne had left the table briefly, Celia said, "She's special

and delightful. It's none of my business, Martin, and you can tell me so if

you like-but are you going to marry her?"

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The question startled him. "That's highly unlikely. In fact, I'm sure

neither of us has thought about it."

"Yvonne has."

He disagreed. "Why should she? She has a whole career ahead of her-a good

one. It will take her to different places where she'll meet other men,

closer to her own age. I'm twelve years older."

"Twelve years means nothing."

Martin said obstinately, "Nowadays it does. It's a whole generation gap.

Besides, Yvonne needs to be free, and so do 1. At the moment we've an

arrangement which suits us, but that can change."

"Men!" Celia said. "Some of you certainly get the best of your

,arrangements.' But you can be blind too."

The discussion was ended by Yvonne's return. It was not resumed before

Celia and her group went back to New Jersey a few days later.

On the day that Celia left, Martin's mother died. She slipped away from

life quietly, without warning or fuss. As a doctor at the nursing home

expressed it to Martin later, "She went like a small boat that drifts off

into the night on a calm sea."

The calmness, Martin thought, with feelings of mixed sadness and relief,

had been present for his mother far too long. It was mental turbulence,

not calm seas, that gave life its zest. Alzheimer's had deprived his

mother of that zest, and the thought revived, once more, his hopes for

the future of Peptide 7.

Only Martin, his father and Yvonne attended the simple funeral, and

afterward Peat-Smith, Senior, went back to chipping at the block of

marble he had ordered and which had been delivered several days before.

Martin and Yvonne drove back to Harlow in companionable silence.

In the several months that followed, important decisions were taken at

Felding-Roth, New Jersey, punctuated by many transatlantic journeys by

headquarters staff.

The active ingredient of Peptide 7, which would appear as a white

crystalline powder, was to be manufactured in the Republic of Ireland at

a new plant for which a site had been chosen and architects' plans were

being rushed to completion. The plant would be the first of

Felding-Roth's to specialize in molecular biology.

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Space would be allowed on the site for later manufacturing of the chemical

base for Hexin W. -

Final production of Peptide 7, in its liquid form and ready for insertion

in containers, would be in an existing plant in Puerto Rico. The

containers, manufactured as expected by another company, would be shipped

there. The overseas arrangements had substantial tax advantages compared

with manufacturing in the United States.

The overall plan involved an enormous investment which, after doubts and

discussions, was approved by the board of directors. At dinner one night

Celia explained the doubts to Andrew. "It's money we don't have.

Everything's going to be borrowed, and if it goes down the drain, so does

Felding-Roth. But we've agreed we have to do it. We've bet the company, and

we're in a now-or-never mood."

There were other decisions, of smaller dimension but important. One

concerned a product name for Peptide 7.