Cam said, “Where are we headed now, Jack?”
“Savich said to come back to Washington. He says he’s got a lead on one of the six people who rented the safe-deposit boxes Manta Ray emptied. And he told me the tail number you saw on the Robinson doesn’t exist. Agent Lucy McKnight is getting together a list of all Robinson R66 helicopters in the Washington area.”
“Did he mention we were fired?”
“He didn’t say and I wasn’t about to ask him.”
31
WASHINGTON MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, D.C.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON
Savich arrived at John Doe’s hospital room twenty minutes after Dr. Wordsworth called him. He spoke briefly to newly-assigned guard Agent Wilcox, then stepped in the room
to see Dr. Wordsworth checking John Doe’s infusion set. Once satisfied, she turned to him and smiled. “Thank you for coming, Agent Savich. Needless to say I’ve never had one of my patients nearly murdered under my care. It shocks me that something like that could happen here, at the hospital, to someone who’s completely helpless.” Dr. Wordsworth nodded toward John Doe’s second FBI guard, Agent Crosby, standing by the window. “It’s a great relief you now have two agents guarding him. Agent Crosby assures me if anyone tries anything more, he will need the emergency room. I called you, Agent Savich, because I promised to follow up with his test results and the bloodwork I sent out.” She shook her head. “To be honest here, some of it doesn’t make sense to me.”
“As puzzling as finding out John Doe is the father of Kara Moody’s baby?”
“Nothing could be that strange.” She shook her head. “Amazing, really. A man she believes is crazy bursts into her house two days ago, her baby is kidnapped yesterday, last night she saves that man’s life, and now she finds out that same man is the father of her baby, a man she’d never seen before.” She shook her head again. “She’s bearing up so well. In fact, I’m told she spends all her time with him. I hear she thinks of him as a victim, like herself. She never once considered him as her possible rapist.”
It was an extraordinary situation. How would it play out? Savich thought of Sherlock’s interview with Sylvie Vaughn, and the GPS tracker she’d put on Vaughn’s car, and all because of her gut. He’d trust Sherlock’s gut any day. “We may know more about what’s going on very soon. Doctor, tell me, what doesn’t make sense about the test results.”
Dr. Wordsworth took off her glasses, wiped them down on her white coat, set them on her nose again. “As you know, his CT scans and MRIs were normal. The initial abnormal blood tests I told you about yesterday—his liver function tests and blood cell counts—have improved, they’re very nearly in the normal range. My neurology consult tested him again this morning, says John Doe’s reflexes are improving. His coma is less deep, which means he might regain consciousness soon.”
“Doctor, your earring is falling out.”
“What?” Her long thin fingers went to the diamond stud nearly ready to fall out of her ear. She smiled, reattached it. “Thank you. I’d hate to lose one of those babies—it was my twenty-fifth anniversary present from my husband.” She shook her head, patted the earring. “As I was saying, I was considering a bone marrow biopsy, but I don’t want to subject him to anything invasive since he’s recovering on his own, and so quickly.”
Savich said thoughtfully, “So it seems he’s working something toxic out of his system? Have you gotten any information back about any drugs he was given?”
She placed her hand on his arm, drew a deep breath. “That’s why I called you. The reference lab found a cocktail of drugs in his system. The first was a natural supplement called quercetin that is marketed as a sort of über vitamin pill. There are claims it reduces the risk of cancer, the risk of heart disease, signs of aging—most medical problems under the sun, really, a cure-all. The FDA has warned there’s no proof for any of the claims, but still, it’s widely available.”
Savich shrugged. “As long as people need hope, some drug will claim to provide it.”
She nodded. “That’s the sad truth. At least, as far as I know, this supplement can’t hurt you. The second drug they found is called epoetin alfa. That’s a sophisticated drug that has to be given intravenously. It’s produced using recombinant DNA technology, acts like a natural hormone to stimulate the bone marrow to make more red blood cells. Someone has been treating his anemia with it. It can cause some increased blood clotting, but nothing like what John Doe is suffering.”
She drew a deep breath. “Now, the third drug they found, they couldn’t identify. They do know it’s chemically related to a drug called sirolimus, used to treat organ rejection. But the drug they found in his blood is new; it’s different. I think the mystery drug is what’s been so toxic to him, especially to his nervous system and his bone marrow. That toxicity could be why they gave him the epoetin, to counteract the bone marrow suppression the third drug was causing.”
“Aren’t there a great many drugs currently being tested that your lab couldn’t identify yet? Drugs that haven’t been approved or marketed?”
Dr. Wordsworth nodded. “Yes, of course. There are millions of untested and poorly tested compounds out there, many of them owned by pharmaceutical companies and universities. They’re often kept jumbled together in what they call compound libraries, in the hope that some of them will be useful as drugs someday.” She shrugged. “Fact is, most of them turn out to be ineffective, or toxic, or both. It takes a great deal of money and time and a bit of luck to find one with a valid use and bring it to market.”
“And if someone were giving him an experimental drug, an unapproved drug, that might explain his medical condition and why he’s improving now he’s no longer taking it?”
“Yes, luckily for him.” Dr. Wordsworth picked up John Doe’s arm, traced her fingertips over the neat line of needle marks. “At first I thought he might have volunteered for some kind of a drug trial, but if he was being given the drug legitimately, for therapeutic reasons, why can’t we find anything wrong with him other than what seems to be the toxic effects of a drug?”
She touched a finger to her earring, then shook her head at herself. “That attempt on his life last night, someone with medical knowledge did that. The syringe the murderer was going to inject into John Doe’s IV—it was filled with potassium chloride. It would have stopped his heart and killed him, and the murderer knew we would never have found it, even at autopsy. It would have looked like sudden cardiac arrest, death from natural causes.”
“And if Kara hadn’t been here to frighten the killer off, John Doe could never wake up to tell us otherwise, or about anything that’s happened to him.”
She took John Doe’s hand. “Whatever is happening here, it’s way beyond unethical; it’s scary. Please find these people before they try again.”
32
1701 ARCTURUS ROAD