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“How’s it given?”
“An IV infusion.”
“Okay. Just so I’m clear. You and Lambert conspired with a pharmacologist at this drug-manufacturing outfit to make up a batch and send it to you, so you could give it to a patient who has blood cancer.”
“With anomalies that make this malignancy particularly rare.”
“Did money change hands?”
She lowered her gaze. “How very perceptive of you.”
“Not really. Everything is about money. Let me guess, Lambert is willing to spend some coin to buy himself a Nobel Prize.”
She shook her head. “The patient is spending the coin.”
“Ah. I remember Lambert saying the patient was high-profile.”
“Powerful. Wealthy. A household name to many.”
“Give me a hint.”
“No.”
“Male or female?”
“No.”
“You can trust me, Brynn.”
“I’ve trusted you enough to confess to something that could land me in prison.”
“Maybe they’ll put you in a cell near your old man.”
She didn’t return his teasing grin.
“Sorry,” he said, looking it. “Bad joke.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He stared thoughtfully into her eyes and said in a soft voice, “I think it does.”
That also was perceptive of him. Too perceptive for comfort. She struck back with impatience. “What matters most is time.”
“The patient is that critical?”
“No. Yes. But that’s not the reason for the haste. Once the compound is mixed, it has a short shelf life of forty-eight hours. That’s been one of the more practical reasons its approval has been withheld.”
“But also why it had to be flown in last night.”
“Exactly. And why I must return with it today. Now. But instead of speeding back…” She spread her arms in a gesture that encompassed the room and the situation.
“Who are the two heavies, Brynn?”
“I have no idea.”
“Come on.”
“I swear!”
