“I guess so,” I answer. “Where would you like to talk?”
“You know,” he says, “you ask a lot of questions for someone planning what you’re planning.”
“Do I?” Okay, now I’m just screwing with him.
He scoffs and we exit through the front of the restaurant.
We continue along the sidewalk until we’re walking on grass, no more than 30 feet from the river.
“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks.
“Dr. Churchill gave me a pretty good idea.”
“Well, I don’t think a general idea is going to cut it,” he says. “Now that you’ve involved me, I hope you’re aware my license is at risk, as well.”
“I do realize you’re putting yourself in quite a position, and-”
“Oh, I’m happy to do a favor for one of my star pupils,” he says. “What I’m more concerned about is you and whether you actually possess the ability to apply discretion when needed.”
“Dr. Marcum, I can assure you-”
“You were halfway to telling a deaf stranger sitting across the table from you what you and Churchill have been planning,” the man says, and I’m really starting to feel like a British secret agent, circa 1941.
“I thought he was you,” I tell him.
“Yes, b
ut you didn’t confirm that, did you?” he asks. “I assume Churchill gave you my general description, did he not?”
“He did not,” I answer. “What does that-”
“The man at the table is a friend of mine,” Dr. Marcum says. “He was put there to see if you’d bother trying to verify that you were talking to the right person or not and how much information you would be willing to let slip in a crowded place. Needless to say, you didn’t inspire much confidence, my dear.”
“I’m not your dear,” I tell him. “And, I really don’t appreciate the spy games or whatever this is that you’re doing.”
Dr. Marcum laughs. “Oh, I think you’ll find that with certain things, it’s best to know exactly what you’re doing,” he says.
“What does that even mean?”
He stops walking, and in a hushed voice, he says, “Look, you don’t know what these people are like. They’re all about power,” he says. “That’s what gets them up in the morning and that’s what lulls them to sleep at night. They dream about it, they fantasize about it. Power is everything to them.”
“Who exactly are ‘them?’”
“Administrators,” he says in his quietened tone. “Administrators and doctors involved in clinical trials. Did you know that less than a quarter of drugs that are tested in clinical trials are actually safe to introduce into the human body?”
“No,” I answer. “Is that true?”
“No,” he says. “With a few exceptions, there’s usually pretty good evidence to suggest that a drug is at least some degree of safe before they’ll start testing it out on people.”
“Then why did you-”
He grabs my arms, giving me a slight shake in the process. “Don’t you get it?” he asks. “We’re talking about getting you into a trial where you don’t belong. You don’t have the history of the illness required, and Churchill says he’s not sure yet whether chemotherapy is going to be effective for you. What you’re proposing — what you’re both proposing is hitting these people where they make their money, and you know what they say about money…”
“Money is power?”
“No,” Dr. Marcum says. “Knowledge is power. You young people really need to learn your platitudes.”
“Dr. Marcum, I’m not sure where you’re going with — well, any of this,” I tell him, “but if you’re having second thoughts about-”