Fever by Robin Cook Page A

evangelistic attitude scares me to death.”
    â€œI feel the same way,” said Ibanez pensively. “Unfortunately he’s become a scientific fanatic, and like all fanatics, he can be difficult. It’s too bad because he’s such a first-rate researcher, maybe our best. But people like that can put us right out of business, especially in this era of reduced funding. I wonder where Charles thinks the money to run this place comes from. If the people down at the National Cancer Institute heard that monologue of his about chemotherapy, they’d throw a fit.”
    â€œI’m going to have to keep the press away from him,” said Bellman.
    Dr. Ibanez laughed. “At least that part will be easy. Charles has never cared for publicity.”
    â€œYou sure he’s the best man to take over Canceran?” said Bellman.
    â€œHe’s the only man. No one else is available who has his professional reputation. All he has to do is finish the study.”
    â€œBut if he screws up somehow . . .” worried Bellman.
    â€œDon’t even suggest it,” said Ibanez. “If he mishandles Canceran at this point, we’d have to do something drastic. Otherwise we’ll all be looking for a job.”
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    Disgusted with himself, Charles dragged his way back down to his lab. For the first time in almost ten years, Charles nostalgically recalled private practice. It wasn’t the one-on-one of clinical medicine that he longed for, but rather the autonomy. Charles was accustomed to being in control and until that moment he had not realized how little control he had at the Weinburger.
    For the second time in the day, Charles slammed the door to his lab, rattling the glassware on the shelves and terrifying the rats and mice in the animal room. Also for the second timehe startled Ellen, who deftly caught a pipette she’d knocked off the counter when she spun around. She was about to complain but when she saw Charles’s face, she remained silent.
    In a fit of misdirected rage, Charles slung the heavy lab books at the counter. One hit the floor while the others crashed into a distillation apparatus sending shards of glass all over the room. Ellen’s hand flew up to protect her face as she stepped back. Still not satisfied, Charles picked up an Erlenmeyer flask and hurled it into the sink. Ellen had never seen Charles like this in all the six years they’d worked together.
    â€œIf you tell me I told you so, I’ll scream,” said Charles, flinging himself onto his metal swivel chair.
    â€œDr. Ibanez wouldn’t listen?” asked Ellen, guardedly.
    â€œHe listened. He just wouldn’t buy, and I caved in like a paper tiger. It was awful.”
    â€œI don’t think you had any choice,” said Ellen. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. Anyway, what’s the schedule?”
    â€œThe schedule is that we finish the Canceran efficacy study.”
    â€œDo we start right away?” asked Ellen.
    â€œRight away,” returned Charles with a tired voice. “In fact, why don’t you go get the Canceran lab books. I don’t want to talk to anyone for a while.”
    â€œAll right,” said Ellen softly. She was relieved to have an errand to take her out of the lab for a few minutes. She sensed that Charles needed a little time by himself.
    After Ellen left, Charles didn’t move and he tried not to think. But his solitude did not last long. The door was thrown open and Morrison stormed into the lab.
    Charles swung around and looked up at Morrison, whose veins were standing out on the sides of his forehead like strands of spaghetti. The man was furious.
    â€œI’ve had just about all I can tolerate,” he shouted through blanched lips. “I’m tired of your lack of respect. What makes you think you’re so important that you don’t have to follow normal protocol? I shouldn’t have to remind you that I