“And I’m thankful,” said Charles. “I’m not a rebel or a revolutionary. Far from it. All I want is to be left alone to do my work. In fact, that’s why I came up here in the first place: to tell you that I don’t feel capable of taking on the Canceran project.”

“Nonsense!” said Ibanez. “You’re more than capable. Obviously the board of directors thinks so.”

“I’m not talking about my intellectual capabilities,” snapped Charles. “I’m talking about my lack of interest. I don’t believe in Canceran and the approach to cancer it represents.”

“Dr. Martel,” said Dr. Ibanez slowly, his eyes boring into Charles’s face. “Are you aware that we are in the midst of a crisis? Are you going to sit there and tell me you cannot help because of a lack of interest? What do you think I’m running here, a federally endowed college? If we lose the grant for Canceran the whole institute is in financial jeopardy. You’re the only person who is not already working under a National Cancer Institute grant and whose stature in the research community is such that this whole unfortunate brouhaha will be defused when you take over.”

“But I’m at a critical point in my own research,” pleaded Charles. “I know I haven’t published and I know that I’ve been somewhat secretive. Maybe that was wrong. But I’ve been getting results and I think I have made an astounding breakthrough. It’s right here.” Charles tapped the cover of one of his lab books. “Listen, I can take a cancer cell, any cancer cell, and isolate the chemical difference between that cell and a normal cell from the same individual.”

“In what animals?” asked Dr. Ibanez.

“Mice, rats, and monkeys,” said Charles.

“What about humans?” asked Dr. Ibanez.

“I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m sure it will work. It’s worked flawlessly in all the species I’ve tried.”

“Is this chemical difference antigenic in the host animal?”

“It should be. In all cases the protein seems to be sufficiently different to be antigenic but unfortunately I have not yet been able to sensitize a cancerous animal. There seems to be some kind of blocking mechanism or what I call a blocking factor. And that’s where I am in my work, trying to isolate this blocking factor. Once I do, I intend to use the hybridoma technique to make an antibody to the blocking factor. If I can eliminate the blocking factor, I’m hoping the animal will then respond immunologically to its tumor.”

“Whew!” whistled Bellman, not sure what to write in his pad.

“The most exciting thing,” said Charles with enthusiasm, “is that it all makes scientific sense. Cancer today is a vestigial aspect of an ancient system whereby organisms could accept new cellular components.”

“I give up,” said Bellman. He closed his pad with a snap.

“What you are also saying, Dr. Martel,” said Dr. Ibanez, “is that you have a long way to go in this work of yours.”

“Absolutely,” said Charles. “But the pace has been quickening.”

“But there’s no reason, except your preference, that you couldn’t put this work aside for a period of time.”

“Only that it appears so promising. If it turns out to be as fruitful as I expect, then it would be tragic, if not criminal, not to have it available as soon as possible.”

“But it is only in your opinion that it appears so promising. I must admit it sounds interesting and I can assure you the Weinburger will support you as it has in the past. But first you are going to have to help the Weinburger. Your own interests must be postponed; you must take over the Canceran project immediately. If you refuse, Dr. Martel, you will have to take your research elsewhere. I want no more discussion. The issue is closed.”

For a moment Charles sat there with a blank face reflecting his inner uncertainty. The enthusiasm he’d built up in presenting his work had elevated his expectations so that Ibanez’s dismissal had a paralyzing effect, especially combined with the threat of being turned out of his lab. The suggestion of being fired was far more terrifying coming from Ibanez than from Morrison. Work and Charles’s sense of self had been so closely connected that he could not imagine them severed. He gathered up his lab books with an effort.

“You’re not the most popular man on the staff,” added Ibanez gently, “but you can change that now by pitching in. I want you to tell me, Dr. Martel: Are you with us?”

Charles nodded his head without looking up, suffering the final indignity of unconditional surrender. He turned and left without uttering another word.

After the door closed, Bellman looked back at Ibanez. “What a strange reaction. I hope he’s not going to be trouble. That evangelistic attitude scares me to death.”

“I feel the same way,” said Ibanez pensively. “Unfortunately he’s become a scientific fanatic, and like all fanatics, he can be difficult. It’s too bad because he’s such a first-rate researcher, maybe our best. But people like that can put us right out of business, especially in this era of reduced funding. I wonder where Charles thinks the money to run this place comes from. If the people down at the National Cancer Institute heard that monologue of his about chemotherapy, they’d throw a fit.”

“I’m going to have to keep the press away from him,” said Bellman.

Dr. Ibanez laughed. “At least that part will be easy. Charles has never cared for publicity.”

“You sure he’s the best man to take over Canceran?” said Bellman.

“He’s the only man. No one else is available who has his professional reputation. All he has to do is finish the study.”

“But if he screws up somehow…” worried Bellman.

“Don’t even suggest it,” said Ibanez. “If he mishandles Canceran at this point, we’d have to do something drastic. Otherwise we’ll all be looking for a job.”

Disgusted with himself, Charles dragged his way back down to his lab. For the first time in almost ten years, Charles nostalgically recalled private practice. It wasn’t the one-on-one of clinical medicine that he longed for, but rather the autonomy. Charles was accustomed to being in control and until that moment he had not realized how little control he had at the Weinburger.

For the second time in the day, Charles slammed the door to his lab, rattling the glassware on the shelves and terrifying the rats and mice in the animal room. Also for the second time he startled Ellen, who deftly caught a pipette she’d knocked off the counter when she spun around. She was about to complain but when she saw Charles’s face, she remained silent.

In a fit of misdirected rage, Charles slung the heavy lab books at the counter. One hit the floor while the others crashed into a distillation apparatus sending shards of glass all over the room. Ellen’s hand flew up to protect her face as she stepped back. Still not satisfied, Charles picked up an Erlenmeyer flask and hurled it into the sink. Ellen had never seen Charles like this in all the six years they’d worked together.

“If you tell me I told you so, I’ll scream,” said Charles, flinging himself onto his metal swivel chair.

“Dr. Ibanez wouldn’t listen?” asked Ellen, guardedly.

“He listened. He just wouldn’t buy, and I caved in like a paper tiger. It was awful.”

“I don’t think you had any choice,” said Ellen. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. Anyway, what’s the schedule?”

“The schedule is that we finish the Canceran efficacy study.”

“Do we start right away?” asked Ellen.

“Right away,” returned Charles with a tired voice. “In fact, why don’t you go get the Canceran lab books. I don’t want to talk to anyone for a while.”

“All right,” said Ellen softly. She was relieved to have an errand to take her out of the lab for a few minutes. She sensed that Charles needed a little time by himself.

After Ellen left, Charles didn’t move and he tried not to think. But his solitude did not last long. The door was thrown open and Morrison stormed into the lab.