Rothman’s mind was wandering. He seemed so uncharacteristically relaxed.
“Its organogenesis is very elusive too. All the hormone- and enzyme-producing cells have to be genetically coded to create the gland, and we’re just coming to grips with the process.”
Rothman had moved to a different bath.
“The mouse pancreas is remarkably similar to ours. We’re making strides here, but I want to speed things up.”
Some scientists were working on implanting glucose sensors and insulin pumps into patients. Others were examining gene therapy solutions, with patients ingesting a medication containing a virus to cause the production of insulin in the presence of glucose. Rothman was tackling the issue the only way he knew: by swinging for the fences. Pia loved that confidence and ambition. She felt some of it had rubbed off on her in the time she had spent with Rothman over the last three years. She also knew how other people saw him. They saw that confidence as arrogance of the worst kind, but it could be arrogance only if the conceit was deliberate. It wasn’t just that Rothman didn’t care what other people thought, he didn’t notice either.
“I wanted to thank you, Doctor,” Pia said.
“For what?”
“For offering to lend me money to pay the Sisters.”
“The Sisters helped you in the past, but the past is the past. You don’t need them anymore. You need to move beyond all the problems foster care caused you, just like I did.”
“I’m trying to,” she said, referring to rising above the legacy of her childhood experiences. But about not needing the Sisters anymore, she wasn’t so sure.
“My sons are not as healthy as I would like. I feel very guilty,” Rothman said out of the blue, shocking Pia. He rarely said anything personal, especially something so very personal. The only other time was when he’d admitted having Asperger’s.
“I’m so sorry,” Pia said. “I had no idea.”
“Nobody does,” Rothman said, uncharacteristically wistfully. “I never talk about it. But it’s a big part of my race with stem cells and stem cell science.”
Pia didn’t know what to say. What was suddenly clear was why Rothman had made such a deviation in his scientific pursuits after such success with his salmonella work.
Rothman continued to watch the tiny pancreas suspended in the bottom of the bath. Pia could only imagine what flight of hope his mind was taking him on now. She could see him almost physically shake it off. He took one more look at the figures on the monitor and wordlessly left Pia’s side. It was amazing and distressing how he could turn on and off.
11.
NEW YORK CITY
MARCH 2, 2011, 1:30 P.M.
After leaving Gloria Croft’s office, Edmund Mathews, still steaming mad and nursing a sore left hand, turned east onto Lexington Avenue and found a Duane Reade pharmacy. He bought a bottle of Motrin and took four. His hand throbbed sharply, but he was certain he hadn’t broken any bones when he slammed the elevator door. Had he used his stronger right hand, he surely would have. Russell Lefevre often found Edmund’s behavior during crises to be unpredictable and alarming, but he knew Edmund had a laser-like focus that he could bring to bear at times like this. Edmund had the ability to break down complex problems and attack them piece by piece until he had it licked.