Free Miracle Cure by Michael Palmer Page A

heavily veined face and W. C. Fields nose strongly suggested to Baird that he might have a drinking problem, consulted his notes then cleared his throat.
    “Dr. Baird, could you tell us something about the drug lovastatin?”
    “Such as?”
    “Just a brief history of the drug from the FDA’s point of view.”
    Teri covered the mike.
    “Any idea where he’s headed?” she whispered.
    Baird shook his head.
    “In that case, tread lightly,” she warned.
    “Lovastatin is a wonderful cholesterol-lowering agent developed by Merck and Company. It was approved for prescribing to the public in August of nineteen eighty-seven.”
    “Approval of a new-drug application, also known as an NDA, is the last step before a medication is released for general use, yes?”
    “That’s correct, Senator.”
    “Well then, could you tell us, please, Doctor, how long after the lovastatin new-drug application was submitted was it approved?”
    “Before answering,” Baird said, picking his way along as if he were in a pitch-black room, “I feel I must explain that a new-drug application is submitted to our agency only after Phases One, Two, and Three are—”
    “Yes, yes, I understand, Doctor. Could you please answer my question?”
    The interruption and the edge in Harrington’s tone immediately put Baird on red alert.
    Easy does it
, Weisman jotted on the legal pad set between them on the table.
    “Nine months after the NDA for lovastatin was submitted,” Baird said, “it was approved. But the research on that drug was—”
    “Thank you, Doctor.”
    “No, Senator, if you please, I’d like to finish my sentence. The Merck company did meticulous clinical studies of their drug and submitted remarkably comprehensive data. Their work on lovastatin actually began in the late seventies.”
    “Then tell us, if you will, precisely how much time elapsed from the beginning of Phase Two human trials until the NDA for lovastatin was approved?”
    “I really don’t have that information at my fingertips. But I’d be happy to—”
    “It was just three years, Dr. Baird. Just three years from the beginning of Phase Two human trials until approval of the drug.”
    Harrington, his smug expression almost comical, turned to Walter Louderman and nodded that he was passing the baton. Louderman, a husky, graying Harvard Law grad, shuffled some papers. Then he took a slow drink of water and cleared
his
throat before fixing his pale blue eyes on Baird.
    “Dr. Baird,” he said, “there’s another drug I’d like you to tell us about. Correct me, please, if my pronunciation is off. The drug is zidovudine.”
    “Your pronunciation is perfect, Senator Louderman.”
Why wouldn’t it be? You probably practiced saying the word a hundred times before you’d chance it in front of all these cameras
. “The drug you ask about was originally and perhaps more commonly known as AZT.”
    Barry Weisman motioned with his hand for Baird to hold up and turned the microphone toward himself.
    “Senator Louderman,” he asked, “do you think we might be given some idea as to where this line of questioning is leading?”
    “If you can be patient just a bit longer, Mr. Weisman, I think you will have your answer. Now, Doctor, can you give us the same sort of capsule summary about AZT that you did for lovastatin?”
    Baird searched for a trap behind the question, but could find none.
    “AZT is an antiviral agent developed by Burroughs-Wellcome and Company, now Glaxo Wellcome, and has been a valuable treatment against the virus that causes AIDS.”
    “And when were clinical studies begun on
that
drug?”
    “I’m not sure. Sometime in the mid-eighties.”
    “Actually, Doctor, Phase One trials of AZT began inJune of nineteen eighty-five. Phase Two began seven months later. The human testing was terminated in September, nineteen eighty-six, just eight months after Phase Two studies were begun. There never were any Phase Three studies.”
    Baird was aware of his