Hard To Breathe, page 22
part #2 of Drake Cody Series
Drake recognized when his friend was feeling smug. He'd seen the look hundreds of times but not for some time. Rizz pointed toward his bedroom. “Take a look.”
Drake stepped to the doorway. The familiar odor of cedar wafted. FloJo's kennel sat on the floor flanked by two large brown plastic drums—one filled with cedar shavings, the other with animal chow. Drake pointed. “Are those—”
Rizz grinned. “Removed undisturbed from our laboratory.”
Drake put a hand to his chest and his jaw dropped. The flash drive containing the molecular identity and synthesis information for D-44 was hidden under a false bottom in the drum filled with cedar shavings.
“It was a good enough spot that I couldn’t find it before—I figured we had a chance.”
“Yes!” Drake hadn't even dared dream. “Hell, yes.”
“Now look in the refrigerator. The upper shelf,” Rizz said.
Drake moved to the kitchen then swung the refrigerator door open. The top shelf stood empty other than a single vial.
The administration vial Drake had prepared only two days earlier had taken the last of their D-44 stores. The printed label he'd applied, “Michael Rizzini – testosterone, administer as directed,” had been a joke, but he’d used an official prescription template, which clearly identified the contents as personal.
Beyond that, the university personnel could not have suspected anyone would administer an experimental, untested drug to a human.
Drake collapsed onto a chair. Unbelievable!
“Thank God you finally came around,” Rizz said. “I knew you'd do the right thing. And very funny labeling it as testosterone. Hell, I've got more of that stuff in my left nut than some countries.” Rizz's smile was huge.
Rizz's quick thinking and Lloyd's bravado had rescued FloJo, recovered the only remaining supply of the breakthrough drug, and kept D-44's molecular identity and synthesis pathway out of the university's hands. The university didn't have it and they couldn't make it.
The effort to rip them off had failed. The university had stolen lots of data, a supply of test drugs that had not worked, and four cats that would likely continue to improve. They'd emptied the lab but missed the drug and its synthesis formula.
The challenged ownership remained, but if the university had successfully seized D-44 or its formula, there’d have been little hope. The university had tried to throw a knockout punch, but the rightful owners were still on their feet.
Drake felt as if he might float into the air. Such relief. What must Rizz be feeling?
“I thought we’d lost everything,” Drake said.
“We owe Jim Torrins,” Rizz said. “He called and warned me about the seizure while you were in the Crash Room trying to die. Lloyd and I handled it from there.”
Although stuck in a wheelchair, some of the old Rizz swagger showed. This was the colleague and friend who’d thrown himself in front of a bullet meant for Drake's family.
“I've kept Lloyd in the dark on this,” Rizz said. “That's why I skipped the meeting with you two. I think he'll represent us most convincingly if he believes we lost the drug. The university won't know they didn’t get D-44 for some time. They'll have to evaluate all the test drugs they stole, and they still won't be sure what they have. It’s to our advantage to let them think they have it.”
Drake's feelings surged. When he’d believed the university had seized everything, he’d had little hope. Though they weren’t any better off than they had been yesterday, maintaining possession of the drug gave him hope.
D-44 still might provide a way for him to take care of those who needed him while the rest of his medical career collapsed.
“Now that you’re up to speed, I have a job for you.” Rizz said.
“A job?” What else could the morning bring? Rizz looked serious. “What is it?” Drake said.
“You're going to break the law and endanger my life.”
Chapter 51
“Break the law? Risk your life?” Drake frowned at Rizz. “What are you talking about?”
“You wrestled with bringing D-44 to me when I was in the ICU,” Rizz said. “Besides being illegal to give an experimental drug to a human, it's quite possible a serious reaction could occur. I could die.” He shrugged. “I know the risks.”
“You want me to administer you the drug right now?”
“Carpe diem, amigo. It's been eight weeks, actually fifty-three days, and I've got nothing. No movement and no feeling.” He put his hands under FloJo and raised her gently. “This little mouse-catcher showed signs of recovery at forty-eight days.” He set FloJo on the blanket on his lap. “I tolerated the first dose. I'm ready for more.”
Drake’s chest tightened. He'd known this was coming.
Rizz had tolerated the drug without evident problems, but it was still early and the risk of adverse effects more than doubled with repeating the D-44. They'd not yet even tried that with a cat. Adverse effects might take months to appear.
Drake started to open his mouth but stopped. Rizz was aware of all the risks. He looked into his friend's face. Rizz's eyes were clear, and his jaw set.
Rizz knew his mind, he knew the risks—he wanted to make the gamble.
“It scares me, but it’s your call.”
“Open that fourth drawer.” Rizz pointed to the bureau next to the case of vodka.
Drake slid open the drawer. A 150-milliliter bag of normal saline and IV materials came into view. Even though he’d decided days ago to provide Rizz the drug, it felt different as he readied to go through with it.
It could kill his friend.
“I've got a med kit in the closet with epinephrine and emergency drugs if we need it. You can reconstitute the D-44, start an IV on me, run it in, and voilà!” Rizz said.
“Voilà?” Drake shook his head. “Perhaps you did have a reaction to the first dose. You’ve become French.”
Rizz beamed. Drake knew it wasn't because of his lame joke. It was the hope of what D-44 offered that lit Rizz up.
“Becoming French wouldn’t be an adverse reaction,” Rizz said. “The French have their act together. Wine, beautiful women—I could deal with that.”
Drake opened the third drawer and found epinephrine and other resuscitation drugs and instruments. Many adverse reactions, especially anaphylaxis, were much more likely the second time someone received a drug.
He used a needle and syringe to withdraw some fluid from the saline bag, then added it to the D-44 vial. He shook it, determined it had gone into solution, then used the needle-syringe to withdraw the D-44 solution. He injected the mixture into the bag of saline.
He pulled a chair next to Rizz's wheelchair, set his supplies on the table. “Let me put FloJo in her kennel.”
“Not a chance. She’s my good luck charm.” Rizz petted her with one hand and extended the other arm to Drake.
Rizz had the kind of veins any nurse would drool over. Drake could put in an IV with his eyes closed. He pulled on the gloves, used an alcohol swab to clean Rizz's forearm, then slipped the IV needle through the skin. The flash of blood appeared in the chamber and Drake advanced the needle into the vein. He secured it, then cleared the IV line of air.
Drake connected the D-44 fluid line's port to the IV. He hung the fluid bag on the knob of one of the higher bureau drawers.
“Last chance to reconsider. Are you certain, Rizz?”
“Never been more sure of anything.”
Drake opened the flow control and the D-44 solution began to drip in.
“Speak up if you get itching, trouble breathing, nausea, anything—got that?”
“Yes, doctor,” Rizz said in a girlish falsetto.
“This is serious.”
“Serious as paralysis, amigo,” Rizz said.
The list of potential devastating adverse effects scrolled through Drake's mind.
Rizz's eyes tracked the fluid moving through the IV line, his excitement evident. FloJo nudged Rizz's hand then mewed. The astringent odor of the alcohol swab wafted. They watched in silence as their shared hope flowed into Rizz's arm.
When the last of the fluid ran in, Drake removed the needle. He held pressure on the site.
“Feeling okay?”
Rizz stared blankly then raised his free arm, waving it about, his palm finding Drake's face then groping it. “Ma? Is that you, Ma? I can't see.”
“You are such a jerk.” Drake shook his head as Rizz grinned.
Rizz put a hand on Drake's forearm and squeezed. His smile left. “Thanks, partner. You made the right call.”
“God almighty, I hope so.” It was a high-stakes gamble—the highest.
“Now that we've doubled down on D-44, we've got someone else to worry about.” Rizz’s tone was grave.
What now? Rizz had been in contact with Jon. His battered, kind-hearted friend had been struggling. “Did something happen to Jon?”
“No. He's messed up, but it's not Jon.” Rizz paused. “How about worrying about yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Drake, I know Yamada told you they confirmed it was penicillin in your car. I talked with them.”
“Right. They want to meet with me.” Did Rizz think this had slipped his mind?
“Hell yes, they do. Yesterday morning you were at the side of the road jamming an endotracheal tube between your own vocal cords to keep from dying.” He paused. “Someone tried to kill you. Next time you might not be so lucky. We need to find out who. And fast.”
Chapter 52
Townhouse
“Kaye, are you sure?” Rachelle said.
“Positive, honey,” Kaye said. “My keys are on the table next to you. We'll be fine.”
Shane and Kristin leaned against the sturdy sixty-some-year-old. Both kids were smiling.
Kaye had returned home to Minneapolis earlier than expected. Her phone call had thrilled the kids as much as it had relieved Rachelle.
Once more the unshakable woman had appeared when Rachelle needed her most.
After making love with Drake in the predawn, Rachelle had slept.
When she awoke, the back of her right thigh where the skin had been taken for her graft hurt. The burn surgeons had taken skin from the thigh for the full thickness grafts they'd used to repair the burns of her wrists and hands.
The graft had been done weeks ago, and things had healed and been trouble-free for a while.
Two days earlier at the Y’s self-defense class, Rachelle had soreness in the same area of her thigh. She'd used moisturizing lotion and the pain had disappeared. Yesterday morning the area had been tender again but had improved by evening.
Now it flat-out hurt, and in the past hour she'd started to feel achy all over.
She'd called the Burn Care clinic at the hospital, and one of the nurses told her to come straight in to be seen.
Kaye's early homecoming call had been only minutes after that, like the intervention of a guardian angel. Kaye had volunteered to watch the kids and insisted Rachelle use her car.
“Kaye, you're the best. Call me if you have any trouble—”
“Oh, goodness, honey.” She rolled her eyes. “This is good times for me.” Kaye gave her an appraising look. “You look a bit flushed. Go get yourself checked out. Don't worry about us.”
Rachelle closed the door and made her way to Kaye's little Toyota. As she climbed in her phone rang.
It was Drake.
“Rachelle, I just found out something that I need to share with you.”
“Are you okay?” Yesterday he'd almost died. This morning he'd headed out before dawn. He thought he was indestructible.
“I'm fine. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes.” Her throat tightened. “You're scaring me.”
“Aki Yamada called me. The detective.”
“Yes.” Her mouth went dry. As if she'd forget the man who'd helped save their lives.
“My reaction yesterday—the police found someone put the penicillin in my car.”
“What?”
“Someone purposely exposed me to penicillin. They put it in my car.
“Someone did that to you?” God, no! “Are they sure?”
“It looks like it. Aki and Detective Farley are investigating.” He paused. “Let's keep the kids home. Be careful but please try not to worry.” He paused. “They took me off the ER schedule for today. Makes me sick to think they're working short-staffed—”
“Screw the ER!” The fire in her outburst surprised her. Sometimes he was just so incredibly dumb! “You need to take care of your own health and your family's safety before you worry about the damn ER.”
“You're right. I will. But if no one can cover for me, they'll be a doc short. Makes it rougher on everyone. I feel like I'm letting people down.”
“That’s crazy, Drake. You almost died.” As she said it, the reality set in. Not an accident—someone tried to kill him.
She expected panic but felt anger. Who had done this? Anyone who threatened her family would have to face her—a pissed-off woman—not a panicky, drugged rabbit.
Drake cut into her thoughts. “I'm going to try and get home early. I have to meet with the detectives and do some things at the hospital. I'm fighting to save my license and career.”
Her thigh throbbed and she felt drained. Was it from her leg or the weight of all that was happening? Hearing Drake talking about fighting boosted her spirits.
“Kaye is back in town. She's with the kids now. She loaned me her car. I'm just leaving to be seen at the Burn Clinic.”
“Kaye? That's great. Wait. Did you say Burn Clinic?”
“I'm sore where they took the skin graft from my leg. It hurt the other day but then got better. It's worse again this morning.”
“Did I hurt you this morning?”
She heard the concern in his voice. She smiled. “No, Drake. You definitely did not hurt me.”
“Do you have a fever?
“Not earlier, but I'm feeling crummy now.”
“Please ask someone from the clinic to call me after they've seen you. Infection is the worry.”
“Go see Detective Yamada and do what he says. I'll be okay. A sore leg is not high up on our problem list.”
“Let the experts decide how much of a problem your leg is. I'll call Kaye. You get to the clinic. I love you.”
“Be careful, Drake. Love you.”
Infection. Drake rarely talked about his job but he'd talked about infection. He feared it. Said it was like fire—could usually be handled if caught early and small, but it could spread like a forest fire in the wind—deadly.
She started the Toyota, her mind spinning with all they were dealing with. The kids still recovering from the kidnapping and she from her burns, Drake being sued by some jerk from the ER, the burden of their huge debt, and Drake's medical career in jeopardy. On top of all that, the allergic reaction that had nearly killed Drake was not an accident. Why does Drake attract such insanity?
She exited the parking lot. Her thigh ached. She felt flushed and clammy.
Didn't they have enough problems?
Chapter 53
River Loft, apartment 4C
A knock sounded on Rizz's door.
“You expecting someone?” Drake asked.
“I saved you a trip, amigo.” Rizz raised his voice, “Come in.”
The door swung open. Aki Yamada and Newton Farley entered. Both wore overcoats.
“Thanks for coming. Take off your coats and have a seat.” Rizz pointed toward the couch by the windows. FloJo remained curled on his lap.
He pivoted his chair so he faced Drake. “We all needed to talk to you. They were nice enough to drop by.”
Rizz had arranged this meeting, a flash of the old take-charge Rizz.
Drake shook hands with each of the detectives.
Coats were removed and all sat. Rizz rolled his chair so that he and Drake faced the detectives on the couch.
“Drake's reaction was not an accident,” Rizz said. “Someone tried to kill him.”
“Looks that way,” Aki said. “The department has not released anything to the press. Other than my chief, the M.E., you two, and anyone you may have told, no one else knows that what happened to you was anything other than a medical thing. Let's keep it that way.” He turned to Drake. “Can you get your buddy the M.E. to keep his mouth shut? That guy loves media attention.”
“I'll talk to Kip,” Drake said. “I just got off the phone from telling Rachelle. Do you think she or my children could be in danger?”
Aki looked at Farley, then back to Drake.
“Is there something you haven't told us that raises that concern?”
“I don't know who tried to get rid of me or why. After what Rachelle and the kids have gone through, I'm paranoid.”
“Can you assign someone to them?” Rizz asked.
“TV and movies show stuff like that, but we can't even assign anyone to Drake.” Aki said, then turned to Drake. “There's no authorization for us to do anything beyond investigate.” He paused. “If you get any hint your family is at risk, call me or Farley immediately. Any hint whatsoever.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you,” Drake said.
“The obvious question,” Aki said. “Who wants you dead?”
It had been in the back of Drake's mind off and on ever since Kip discovered the powder. Drake stood, memories making him restless. He looked out the window at the falls. Blocks of ice caught at the crest of the falls, then tumbled over. Clouds of vapor rose into the air above the churning water.
“D-44 is worth big money,” Drake said. “But Faith's manipulation of our paperwork has left our ownership legally vulnerable. Yesterday, the university raided our lab and seized everything. They're claiming D-44 as their own. There's also a Swiss pharmaceutical corporation with a claim. We're headed for a court fight. Our new attorney says my claim is much stronger than Rizz’s or Jon's, so if I were out of the picture we’d almost certainly lose.” No one spoke.
Drake checked the time. No call from Rachelle or the Burn Clinic yet. His unease grew.
