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Richard looked at him through narrowed eyes. “This woman worked with you, she treated your patients alongside you.”
“Yes, but—”
“She treated me!” Richard’s voice vibrated with restrained wrath. “And you allowed that, knowing nothing of her background?”
“Her credentials were impeccable. It never occurred to me to check her family tree. Clearly a mistake.”
“Clearly a catastrophe,” Delores said.
Richard stood up and rounded the sofa. He braced his hands on the back of it as he would a podium and lowered his head. Delores remained quiet, not wanting to break his concentration. When Nate seemed about to, she shot him a look that muted him.
Eventually Richard raised his head. “It’s not catastrophic until the life span of the drug expires. We’ve got a bit over twenty-four hours to find Dr. O’Neal and retrieve it.”
Delores flew into action. “I’ll call Goliad. You,” she said, pointing her cigarette at Nate, “start writing down any places Dr. O’Neal might have gone when she left you. Is she in contact with her outlaw father?”
“I wouldn’t imagine that—”
“Don’t imagine, Nate. Find out. In the meantime, call that pharmacologist and tell him to mix another dose. The weather has cleared. We’ll send our jet for it.”
“He won’t do it, Delores.”
“Offer him more money.”
“It’s not a matter of money.”
“Oh, that’s funny,” she said. “Tell me another.”
Nate gave a stubborn shake of his head. “He’s a scientist. He’s motivated by positive lab results, and actually feels corrupted for taking money to mix the one dose. What money he did accept will go toward covering the cost of the components. The only way he would agree to make more would be with the company’s authorization for an FDA compassion exemption. We would have to go through the proper channels and apply.”
“Do it.”
“I would have already, Delores, except that you were adamant about anonymity. These clinical tests are meticulously documented. There’s no way I can keep Richard’s name out of it.”
“No,” Richard said without taking even a moment to consider it. “If it gets out that I’m terminally ill, it would empower every enemy I have in Washington.”
“Perhaps enough hush money would buy confidentiality,” Nate ventured.
Richard scoffed at that. “What planet are you on? I’m in public life. Fodder for the media. Anybody along the chain would leak this tidbit in a heartbeat. You would probably sell the story to the tabloids yourself.”
Nate drew himself up to his full height and gave the hem of his European suit jacket a tug. “I’ll overlook that insult because you’re my patient, you’ve suffered a disappointment, and you’re overwrought.”
He paused as though waiting for Richard to apologize. When he didn’t, he continued. “I advise you not to dismiss the suggestion out of hand. Your name on the application would add considerable cachet.”
“No.”
Delores said, “Richard—”
“No, Del.”
She turned to Nate. “Richard has spoken. Sweeten the pot. Your laboratory friend might not be quite as high-minded as you believe. You can use the desk there.”
Nate did as told and got on his phone.
Richard retreated into the bedroom. Delores ground out her cigarette and followed him. He said, “Close the door.”
He took one of the matching overstuffed chairs in front of the window overlooking their private terrace and the landscaped grounds beyond. She took the other. Seeming to be deep in thought, he drummed his fingers on the padded armrest.
Delores was itching to spin into action, but she gave him time to contemplate. Eventually he asked if she had called Goliad.
