Death Benefit by Robin Cook Page B

of the lab with the intention of discussing tissue culture fluid. Instead they couldn’t stop talking about the progress Rothman had made in organogenesis. As interested as they were, they realized that reading books from the library and doing Web searches was fruitless. The textbooks on this stuff hadn’t been written yet.
    “You’re asking the wrong person,” Pia said, responding to Will’s question about Rothman and Yamamoto getting a cut. “Money and I don’t have much of a relationship.”
    “But he’s gotta be looking at billions here. Doesn’t he? I’m going to call my dad, he’ll know someone who knows.”
    “Your dad?” Lesley said.
    “Yeah, his broker is pretty well connected.”
    “I don’t think you should be talking about any of this to others,” Pia offered. “Particularly people outside the medical center. Remember what Yamamoto said. At least during this month while you’re working there or until the key publication is released.”
    “You might be right,” Will said. “But it can’t be that much of a secret, as Yamamoto admitted. But certainly it’s best not to get on Rothman’s wrong side, especially with his reputation.”
    “I’m just pleased to be part of the scene,” Lesley said. “I’d be happy just checking bath temperatures for the month.”
    “After all the terrible stories I’ve heard about Rothman’s treatment of students, I was expecting the worst today,” Will said. “But hell, he seemed very nice to us. Maybe he didn’t know we were coming today or didn’t know who we were?”
    “He had to know who we were,” Lesley said. “I think he was using us to practice showing off the progress they’ve been making. But whatever the reason, I don’t care. I’m happy just to have been able to see it.”
    Inwardly, this was exactly what Pia was thinking. It had been a magical experience for her to visit Rothman’s inner sanctum. It had been a long wait, but she didn’t care. Nor did she feel any resentment that Lesley and Will had gotten to do it on the very first day of their elective. For Pia, it was as if she had entered a different physical dimension. The room, and what was happening inside it, seemed to belong to a realm quite apart from all that lay outside. What she remembered was a white space, glowing blue, like something from a science fiction movie.
    “It was one of the most tantalizing experiences of medical school,” Will said. “I loved it.”
    “Me too,” Pia said. “I could have just stood there and watched baths all day.”
    “Hey, everybody,” a voice announced. It was George Wilson, standing at the foot of the table, carrying a cafeteria tray. He’d just emerged from the food table line. “Is this a private party or can a tired radiology extern join you?”
    The three students eyed each other. It was Will who spoke up: “If it isn’t Mr. Wilson! Hello, George.”
    “Will, how’s it going?” George said. He tried to conceal his displeasure at seeing McKinley sitting at a table with Pia.
    “You know Lesley Wong,” Will said, playing the host. “And Pia, of course.”
    “Lesley, hi, how are you? Pia, how was your day with Rothman?”
    George was feeling extremely uncomfortable as he’d not yet been invited to sit down and so stood awkwardly next to the threesome’s table. It was late, and he’d managed to get to the cafeteria just before it closed. The last person he expected to see there was Pia. The second-to-last person was Will McKinley, who usually held forth in the medical school dorm cafeteria chatting up all the women medical students.
    “We were just talking about it,” Pia said, unaware of George’s discomfort. Social cues were not one of her strong points. “Lesley and Will are also spending their electives in Rothman’s lab. And about the day? It was . . . let’s say interesting.”
    “Crazy Rothman saves the world,” Will said.
    “What do you mean by that?” Pia said. There was a sharpness in her