“I’m listening.”
“Okay. The HIV attaches itself to what are called T cells. It then crawls inside the cells and destroys them. Still with me?”
Cassandra nodded.
“The part of the cell where the HIV first attaches itself is called the T receptor. In other words, the HIV searches around and is attracted to T receptors. Then it latches onto the receptors and moves in for the kill.”
“Got it,” Cassandra said.
“What we do at the clinic is inject our patients with a powerful, addictive drug we’ve created called SR1—S and R stand for Sidney Riker, my brother. The negative side effects with SR1 are many and unfortunately the patient needs to take larger and larger doses over a long period of time.”
“What does SR1 do?” she asked.
Harvey squeezed her hand. “Again, it’s complicated, so let me try to cut through all the medical jargon. In the human body SR1 greatly resembles T receptors, so the AIDS virus is drawn to the phony T receptors.”
“So,” Cassandra said, “the HIV attaches itself to the SR1 T receptors rather than the real T receptors.”
“Something like that, yes. It’s almost like SR1 is wearing a mask and disguising itself as a T receptor. The HIV is drawn to it, latches itself onto it—”
“And then the SR1 kills the HIV.”
Harvey shook his head. “I wish. One day it might happen that fast, but we’re still years away from anything like that.”
“So what happens?”
“Well, after the HIV latches itself onto the SR1’s T receptors, they struggle. It’s almost like a tug-of-war inside the immune system. At first, the HIV is really pissed off by all this. The SR1 is actually activating the virus, stirring it up. We give additional and escalating dosages of SR1 until the drug begins to wear down the virus. For a while the effects of AIDS are put into a holding pattern. Eventually, after a long, hard struggle, the HIV dies.”
“SR1 wins the tug-of-war.”
He nodded. “We believe so, yes. Several long-term patients have actually changed from HIV positive to HIV negative.”
“Amazing.”
“The problems are obvious. Aside from the dangers and addictive factors in SR1, we can save only the immune system. If a person is in the latter stages of AIDS—if a patient is already seriously ill with some AIDS-induced infection—our cure will do little if any good. SR1 can stop only HIV. It doesn’t cure Kaposi’s sarcoma, for example, or any of the other diseases AIDS may eventually give you. As a result, we have to catch the virus early, before infections and disease settle in. And of course, more research is needed. We’ve only scratched the surface.”
Cassandra said, “You’re sure to get the funds you need once Sara does her report.”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean, hope so? Once everyone sees the evidence they’ll support the clinic—even my father.”
Harvey slipped on his shoes and stood. “That’ll be the day.”
“You’ll see. He’ll back you.”
“Maybe,” Harvey said, more to keep the peace than anything else. “But he’s not the one I’m afraid of.”
“Then who?”
“Dangerous whackos who are making a name for themselves off the deaths of young people. People like that Reverend Sanders—”
“You think he’s out to sabotage the clinic?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
Cassandra rolled over, exposing the long smooth curve of her hip. “He was in my father’s study the other day.”
Harvey spun back toward Cassandra. “Reverend Sanders?”
“Yup.”
“But your father told me he didn’t know Sanders personally.”
“I heard him in my father’s study the morning after the party. They were arguing.”
“Arguing about what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Cassandra, it’s important.”
She tried to collect her thoughts. “I remember my father telling Sanders that he should never come to the house.”
“What did Sanders say?”
“He just told my dad to relax. I remember that Sanders sounded so cool. His tone was such a contrast to my father’s angry one. Then Sanders said something like ‘There’s still work to be done.’ ”
Harvey’s body went rigid. “Jesus.”
“That’s all I heard. I left after that.”
“Are you sure—”
The phone rang. For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes locked onto each other’s. Then Harvey lowered his gaze and moved toward the phone.
“Hello.”
Eric’s voice came in a rush. “Get down to the lab, Harv. Hurry.”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s Michael, Harvey. Oh God, it’s Michael.”
MICHAEL pressed the button and held it down. Slowly and with a whir, the bed began to move, curling his frame into a sitting position. He coughed twice into his fist and then smiled at Sara.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Take a sip.”
Michael brought the plastic cup to his lips and drank.
“How’s the orange juice?” Sara asked.
“Tastes like paint thinner,” he replied. “What time is it?”
“Seven a.m. Did you sleep well?”
“Not really,” he said. “I don’t like sleeping in separate beds.”
“Neither do I,” Sara said, “but my bed is only a yard away.”
“Makes it worse. Sort of like being able to see the Holy Grail and not grasp it.”
“How poetic.”
“To put it somewhat less poetically, I want your bod.”
“And I yours,” Sara said. “Every time you stand up I see your cute little ass hanging out the back of your hospital gown. It drives me crazy.”
“I know. I’m such a tease.” He pushed the orange juice away and glanced up. “So tell me, how’s the story on Harv’s clinic going?”
“We start shooting the interviews later today. It’ll be hectic as all hell, so I may not be able to stop in as much.”
“Good. I’ll be able to get a little peace and quiet.”
“Not so fast, handsome. I’ll still be able to come by around lunch and dinner. And I’ll still be sleeping in that bed come this evening.”
He grabbed her and they kissed. “Can’t get rid of you, huh?”