Terminal

Hiroshi dialed the Doral Country Club Hotel and asked to speak with Mr. Yamaguchi. He was transferred to the clubhouse since Mr. Yamaguchi had scheduled a tee time in twenty minutes.

Tanaka came on the line. He was particularly curt when he heard Hiroshi’s voice. Speaking in rapid Japanese, Hiroshi got directly to the point.

“Mr. Sean Murphy is here at the research center,” Hiroshi said.

“Thank you,” Tanaka said. “The plane is on its way. All is in order. We will be at Forbes this afternoon.”

SEAN HAD started the morning off in high spirits. After the initial ease of identifying the immunoglobulin and the three cytokines, Sean had expected just as rapid progress in determining exactly what kind of antigen the immunoglobulin reacted to. Since it reacted so strongly with the tumor cell suspension, he reasoned that the antigen had to be membrane-based. In other words, the antigen had to be on the surface of the cancer cells.

To assure himself of this assumption as well as confirm that the antigen was at least partially a peptide, Sean had treated intact cells from Helen’s tumor with trypsin. When he tried to see if these digested cells reacted with the immunoglobulin, he quickly learned they did not.

But from that moment on, Sean had run into trouble. He could not characterize this membrane-based antigen. His idea was to try innumerable known antigens and see if they reacted with the antigen binding portion of the unknown immunoglobulin. None reacted. Using literally hundreds of cell lines grown in tissue culture, he spent hours filling the little wells, but he got no reaction. He was particularly interested in cell lines whose origins were from neural tissues. He tried normal cells and transformed or neoplastic cells. He tried digesting all the cells with detergents in increasing concentration, first to open the cell membranes and expose cytoplasmic antigens, then to open nuclear membranes to expose nuclear antigens. Still nothing reacted. There wasn’t a single episode of immunofluorescence in any of hundreds of tiny wells.

Sean couldn’t believe how difficult it was turning out to be to find an antigen to react with the mysterious immunoglobulin. So far he hadn’t even gotten a partial reaction. Just when he was losing patience, the phone rang. He walked to a wall extension to answer it. It was Janet.

“How’s it going, Einstein?” she asked brightly.

“Terrible,” Sean said. “I’m not getting anywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Janet said. “But I’ve got something that might brighten your day.”

“What?” Sean asked. At the moment he couldn’t imagine anything except the antigen he was seeking. But Janet certainly wouldn’t be able to supply that.

“I got a sample of Louis Martin’s large vial medicine,” Janet said. “I used your idea.”

“Great,” Sean said without much enthusiasm.

“What’s the matter?” Janet questioned. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am pleased,” he said. “But I’m also frustrated with the stuff I have; I’m at a loss.”

“Let’s meet so I can give you this syringe,” Janet said. “Maybe you need a break.”

They met as usual in the cafeteria. Sean took advantage of the time to get something to eat. As before, Janet passed Sean the syringe under the table. He slipped it into his pocket.

“I brought my overnight bag, as requested,” she said, hoping to lighten Sean’s mood.

Sean merely nodded as he ate his sandwich.

“You seem a lot less excited about our trip than you did this morning,” Janet commented.

“I’m just preoccupied,” Sean said. “I never would have guessed I’d not find some antigen that would react with the mysterious immunoglobulin.”

“My day hasn’t been so great either,” Janet said. “Gloria is no better. If anything, she’s a little worse. Seeing her makes me depressed. I don’t know about you, but I’m really looking forward to getting away. I think it will do us both some good. Maybe a little time away from the lab will give you some ideas.”

“That would be nice,” Sean said dully.

“I’ll be off sometime around three-thirty,” Janet said. “Where shall we meet?”

“Come over to the research building,” Sean said. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the foyer. If we leave from that side, we’ll miss the shift-change crowd in the hospital.”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Janet said brightly.

STERLING REACHED over the seat and nudged Wayne. Wayne, who’d been sleeping in the back, sat up quickly.

“This looks promising,” Sterling said. He pointed through the windshield at a black stretch Lincoln Town Car that was parking at the curb midway between the hospital building and the research building. Once the car stopped, a Japanese man got out of the rear and gazed up at the two buildings.

“That’s Tanaka Yamaguchi,” Sterling said. “Can you tell how many people are in the limousine with your glasses?”

“It’s difficult to see through the tinted windows,” Wayne said, using a small pair of binoculars. “There’s a second man sitting in the back seat. Wait a sec. The front door is opening as well. I can see two more. That’s four people total.”