Free Fatal Care by Leonard Goldberg Page B

him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Two rare cancers pop up in patients whose only common denominator is that they both had their arteries cleaned. But how could that cause a malignancy? “How many people have had this procedure?”
    “The NIH allowed us to do ten patients initially,” Murdock replied. “The results were so encouraging, they granted permission for us to include another twenty patients in the study.”
    Joanna quickly calculated numbers in her head. Of the thirty patients in the artery-cleansing study, two had developed malignancies. A cancer rate of one in fifteen—an astronomical incidence. “You’ll have to report this to the NIH, Simon.”
    “Oh, I will,” Murdock said, his mind racing ahead. The NIH would insist that the artery-cleansing study be discontinued until the matter was thoroughly investigated by a scientific committee at Memorial. And the news was certain to be leaked to the press, who would have a field day throwing mud at Memorial. Then there would be the multimillion-dollar lawsuits that were sure to follow. And, until all questions were answered, there would be no new cardiac institute in memory of Oliver Rhodes. The consequences of an adverse finding by the committee would be staggering.
    Murdock felt his world crumbling around him. Quickly he gathered himself. The first thing to do was to keep the investigation quiet and in-house.
    “The NIH will almost surely ask you to form a committee to investigate,” Joanna said, as if she were reading his mind.
    “I’m certain they will,” Murdock said, now seeing his opening. “And I would like you to head that committee.”
    “Whoa!” Joanna blurted out. “This is not my area of expertise.”
    “But you’re a very good scientist,” Murdock countered, and meant it. Joanna had headed similar committees for Murdock in the past. She was bright and incisive and, most important, she knew how to be discreet. “You’ll chair the committee. And you can include Dr. Green here, since you say he’s such a fine oncology pathologist.”
    Dennis Green groaned to himself. The last thing he needed was to sit on another committee, particularly one that would be so time consuming. But he had no choice other than to gracefully accept, if he wanted to stay on Murdock’s good side. “I’d be glad to help.”
    “Do you know anything about the method they use to clean out the arteries?” Joanna asked Green.
    He shrugged. “Damn little. But I think they remove the blockage with a laser, then add an enzyme to clean the fatty deposits of the artery walls.”
    “What type of enzyme?”
    Green shrugged again. “I think it’s a lipolytic enzyme which is produced by gene splicing.”
    Joanna sighed deeply. She had no laboratory experience with gene splicing. None. It was a subject she’d only read about. From what she could recall, the technique consisted of isolating a segment of a human chromosome that contained the gene responsible for the production of a given protein. The chromosome segment was then inserted into
E. coli
bacteria and became incorporated into the microorganism’s DNA. The bacteria would then begin producing the human protein in quantity. Human insulin was now being made this way and was commercially available.
    Joanna sighed again, unhappy with the position she’d been placed in. Her knowledge of gene splicing was little more than rudimentary. “I’m really not qualified to head this committee, Simon.”
    “Yes, you are,” Murdock insisted. “And I know you’ll do a fine job for us. Now, I want you to pick your people carefully and keep the committee small. I want everything kept under wraps until the findings are in.”
    Joanna sighed once more and gave in. “I’ll need an expert in tumor induction and another in biogenetics.”
    “Fine,” Murdock said agreeably. “But I want them to be from Memorial, and I want to talk with both before you give them any details.”
    “You won’t be able to