nothing more than a cover for anarchy and nihilismS”
He was jumping to conclusions in quantum leaps
: BLOOD TEST t 1.
but I had neither the desire’nor the energy to argue
with him. .
“The police, what did they do?” .
“The detective who ran the show is a friend of
mine. He came down as a favor. There’s an All
Points Bulletin out On the family, the sheriff in La.
Vista has been notified to watch for them. They
did a crime scene analysis and filed a report. That’s
it. Unless you decide to push it.”
“Your friend–is he discreet?”
“Very.”
“Good. We can’t afford a media side show. Have
you ever talked to the press ? They are idiots, Alex,
and vultures! The blonds from the television stations
are the worst. Vapid, with paste-on smiles,
always trying to trick you into making outrageous
statements. Barely a week goes by that one of them
doesn’t attempt to get me to say that the cure for
cancer is just around the corner. They want instant
information, immediate gratification. Can you imagine
what they’ll do with something like this?”
He’d gone quickly from defeatism to rage and the
excess energy propelled him out of his chair. He
traversed the length of the office with short nervous
steps, pounding his fist into his hand, swerved
to avoid the piles of books and manuscripts, walked
back to the desk, and cursed in Spanish.
“Do you think l should go to court, Alex?”
“It’s a tough question. You need to decide if going
public will help the boy. Have you done it before ?”
“Once. Last year we had a little girl who needed
transfusions. The family were Jehovah’s Witnesses
and we had to get an injunction to give her blood.
But that was different. The parents weren’t .fighting
us. Their attitude was, our beliefs don’t allow
116 Jonathan Kelleroum
us to give you permission, but if We’re forced
comply we will. They wanted to save their child,
Alex, and were happy when we took the responsibility
away from them. That child is alive today
and thriving. The Swope boy should be thriving,
too, not dying in the back room of some scabrous
voodoo den.”
He thrust his hand into the pocket of his white
coat, removed a packet of saltine crackers, tore open
the plastic, and nibbled on the crackers until they
were consumed. After brushing crumbs out of his
mustache he continued.
“Even in the Witness case the media tried to
make a cause clbre of it, implying that we were
coercing the family. One of the stations sent around
a moron masquerading as a medical reporter to
interview me–probably one of those fellows who
wanted to be a doctor but flunked his science
courses. He swaggered in with a little tape recorder
and addressed me by my first name, Alex! As if we
were buddies! I dismissed him and he made the ‘no
comment’ sound like concealment of guilt. Fortu-
nately the parents took our advice and refused to
– talk to them, too. At that point the so-called controversy
died a quick death–no carrion, the vultures
go elsewhere.”
The door leading to the lab opened and a young
woman clutching a clipboard entered the office.
She had light light brown hair cut in a page boy,
round eyes that uncannily matched the hair, pinched.
features, and a petulant mouth. The hand holding
the clipboard was pale, and her nails were gnawed
to the quick. She wore a lab coat that reached
below her knees and crepe-soled flats on her feet.’
She looked through me to Raoul’ and said, “There’s
something
lack of inflection in her voice
her message.
Raoul got up. “Is it the new membrane, Helen?”
‘Yes.”
“Wonderful.” He looked as if he were going to
hug her then stopped suddenly, remembering my
presence. Clearing his throat, he introduced us:
“Alex, meet a fellow Ph.D., Dr. Helen Holroyd.”
We exchanged the most cursory of pleasantries.
She edged closer to Raoul, a proprietary gleam in
the beige eyes. He fought, unsuccessfully, to erase
the naughty boy took from his face
The two of them were trying so hard to look