Fever by Robin Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

the Charles River. “Coffee?” Morrison smiled, showing very small, very white, even teeth.
    Charles declined, sat back on the couch, and folded his arms. Something strange was going on and his curiosity was piqued.
    â€œHave you seen the New York Times today?” asked Morrison.
    Charles shook his head negatively.
    Morrison walked over to his desk, picked up the paper, and directed Charles’s attention to an article on the front page. His gold identification bracelet slid out from beneath his shirt sleeve as he pointed. SCANDAL AT THE WEINBURGER CANCER INSTITUTE .
    Charles read the first paragraph, which paraphrased what Ellen had already told him. That was enough.
    â€œTerrible, eh?” intoned Morrison.
    Charles nodded half-felt agreement. Although he knew that such an incident would have a negative effect on fund-raising for a time, he also felt that it would take some of the unearned emphasis away from this new drug, Canceran, and hopefully return it to more promising areas. He felt that the answer to cancer lay in immunology, not chemotherapy, although he recognized the increasing numbers of cures achieved in recent years.
    â€œDr. Brighton should have known better,” said Morrison. “He’s just too young, too impatient.”
    Charles waited for Morrison to get to the point.
    â€œWe’re going to have to let Dr. Brighton go,” said Morrison.
    Charles nodded as Morrison launched into his explanation of Brighton’s behavior. Charles looked at Morrison’s shining bald head. The little hair he had was located above his ears, connected in the back by a carefully combed swath.
    â€œJust a minute,” interrupted Charles. “This is all very interesting, but I do have an important experiment in progress downstairs. Is there something specific you wanted to tell me?”
    â€œOf course,” said Morrison, adjusting his cuff. His voice took on a more serious note and he brought the tips of his fingers together, forming a steeple. “The board of directors of the institute anticipated the New York Times article and had an emergency meeting last night. We decided that if we didn’t act quickly the real victim of the Brighton affair would be the new and promising drug, Canceran. I assume you can understand this concern?”
    â€œOf course,” said Charles, but on the horizon of Charles’s mind, a black cloud began to form.
    â€œIt was also decided that the only way to salvage the project was for the institute to publicly support the drug by appointing its most prestigious scientist to complete the tests. And I’m happy to say, Charles Martel, that you were chosen.”
    Charles closed his eyes and slapped a hand over his forehead. He wanted to storm out of the office, but he contained himself. Slowly he reopened his eyes. Morrison’s thin lips were pulled into a smile. Charles could not tell if the man knew what his reaction was and was, therefore, teasing him, or if Morrison genuinely thought that he was conveying good news.
    â€œI can’t tell you how pleased I am,” continued Morrison, “that the board of directors picked someone from my department. Not that I’m surprised, mind you. We all have been working tirelessly for the Weinburger. It’s just nice to get thiskind of recognition once in a while. And, of course, you were my choice.”
    â€œWell,” began Charles in as steady a voice as he could manage. “I hope you convey to the board of directors my thanks for this vote of confidence, but unfortunately I’m not in a position to take over the Canceran project. You see, my own work is progressing extremely well. They will have to find someone else.”
    â€œI hope you’re joking,” said Morrison. His smile waned, then vanished.
    â€œNot at all. With the progress I’m making, there is no way I can leave my current work. My assistant and I have been extremely successful and the pace