The Constant Gardener

"Because I was a fool," Lara repeats proudly, putting to rest his earlier assertion to the contrary. "Why would I accept to sign unless I was a fool? KVH were very polite, very charming, very understanding, very clever. I was in Basel when two young men came from Vancouver to see me. I was flattered. Like you, they sent me roses. I told them the trials were shit. They agreed. I told them they should not be selling Dypraxa as a safe drug. They agreed. I told them that many side effects had never been properly assessed. They admired me for my courage. One of them was a Russian from Novgorod. "Come to lunch, Lara. Let's talk this thing through." Then they told me they would like to bring me to Dawes to design my own trial of Dypraxa. They were reasonable, unlike their superiors. They accepted that we had not made enough correct tests. Now at Dawes we would make them. It was my drug. I was proud of it, they also. The university was proud. We made a harmonious arrangement. Dawes would welcome me, KVH would pay for me. Dawes is ideally located for such trials. We have native Indians from the reservations who are susceptible to old tuberculosis. We have multi-resistant cases from the hippy community in Vancouver. For Dypraxa, this is a perfect combination. It was on the basis of this arrangement that I signed the contract and accepted the confidentiality clause. I was a fool," she repeated, with the sniff that says "case proven."

"And KVH has offices in Vancouver."

"Big offices. Their third-biggest facility in the world after Basel and Seattle. So they could watch me. Which was the object. To put a muzzle on me and to control me. I signed the stupid contract and went to work with a good heart. Last year I completed my study. It was extremely negative. I felt it necessary to inform my patients of my opinion concerning the potential side effects of Dypraxa. As a doctor, I have a sacred duty. I also concluded that the world medical community must be informed by means of publication in an important journal. Such journals do not like to print negative opinions. I knew this. I knew also that the journal would invite three distinguished scientists to comment on my findings. What the journal did not know was that the distinguished scientists had just signed rich contracts with KVH Seattle to research biotechnical cures for other diseases. They immediately informed Seattle of my intentions, who informed Basel and Vancouver."

She hands him a folded sheet of white paper. He opens it and has a chilling sense of recognition.

COMMUNIST WHORE. GET YOUR SHITCOVERED HANDS OFF OUR UNIVERSITY. GO BACK TO YOUR BOLSHEVIK PIGSTY. STOP POISONING DECENT PEOPLE'S LIVES WITH YOUR CORRUPT THEORIES.

Large electronic capitals. No spelling mistakes. The familiar use of compounds. Join the club, he thinks.

"It is arranged that Dawes University will participate in the worldwide profits of Dypraxa," she continues, carelessly snatching the letter back from him. "Staff who are loyal to the hospital will receive preferential shares. Those who are not loyal receive such anonymous letters. It is more important to be loyal to the hospital than loyal to the patients. It is most important to be loyal to KVH."

"Halliday wrote it," Amy says, sweeping into the room with a tray of coffee and biscuits. "Halliday's the preeminent bull dyke of the Dawes medical mafia. Everybody in the faculty has to kiss her ass or die. Except me and Lara and a couple of other idiots."

"How d'you know she wrote it?" Justin asks.

"DNA'd the cow. Picked the stamp off the envelope, DNA'd her spit. She likes to work out in the hospital gym. Me and Lara stole a hair from her pink Bambi hairbrush and made the match."

"Did anyone confront her?"

"Sure. The whole board. Cow confessed. Excess of zeal in execution of her duties, which consist solely of protecting the university's best interests. Humbly apologized, pleaded emotional stress, which is her word for salivating sexual envy. Case dismissed, cow congratulated. Meanwhile they trashed Lara. I'm next."

"Emrich is a Communist," Lara explains, relishing the irony. "She is Russian, she grew up in Petersburg when it was Leningrad, she attended Soviet colleges, therefore she is a Communist and anticorporate. It is convenient."

"Emrich didn't invent Dypraxa either, did you, honey?" Amy reminds her.

"It was Kovacs," Lara agrees bitterly. "Kovacs was the complete genius. I was her promiscuous laboratory assistant. Lorbeer was my lover, therefore he claimed the glory for me."

"Which is why they're not paying you any more money, OK, honey?"

"No. It is a different reason. I have broken the confidentiality clause, therefore I have broken my contract. It is logical."

"Lara's a prostitute too, aren't you, honey? Screwed the pretty boys they sent her from Vancouver, except she didn't. Nobody at Dawes fucks. And we're all Christians except the Jews."