What am I saying? I asked myself. But before I could take it back,
Hannah was on the line.
I know how intruded on I feel when an actor calls me at home on Sunday
to bitch. Better make this good, I told myself.
"I was at an infertility clinic yesterday and passed out," I began.
"And now I have some herbs to take, but I'm . . . well, I'm not sure
about them."
"What 'clinic'?" she asked. There was no reprimand for calling her on
Sunday morning.
When I told her about Alex Goddard, she said little, but she did not
sound impressed. Looming there between us like the dead elephant on the
living room floor was the fact that she'd specifically warned me not to
go near him. And after what had just happened, there was a good case
she might be right.
"Can I buy you brunch?" I finally asked, hoping to lure her back onto
my case. "I'd really like to show you these herbs he gave me and get
your opinion."
"I was just headed out to Zabar's to get something," she said, somewhat
icily. Well, I suppose she thought she had good reason. "I'll get some
bagels and meet you at my office."
Sunday traffic on upper Broadway was light, and I lucked out and found
a parking space roughly two blocks from her building. It was one of the
low-overhead "professional" types with a single small elevator and no
doorman. When I got there, the lobby was empty.
Her suite was on the third floor, and I rang the bell before I realized
the door was open. She was back in her office, behind the reception
area, taking off her coat, when I marched in.
While she was unwrapping her sesame bagels, smoked sturgeon, and cream
cheese with chives, she got an earful. My feeling was I'd better talk
fast, and I did. I told her everything I could think of about what had
happened to me at Quetzal Manor. I didn't expect her to make sense of
it from my secondhand account, but I wanted to set the background for
my next move.
"When I was leaving, his assistant gave me these two bottles of
gel-caps. She said they're special herbal extracts he makes from plants
in the rain forest. Do you think I ought to take them?"
I suspected I already knew the answer. Given her previously voiced
views on Alex Goddard, I doubted she would endorse any potions he might
dispense. But plant medicine has a long history. At least she might
know if they presented any real danger.
She was schmearing cream cheese on the bagels, but she put down the
plastic knife, took the two bottles, and examined them skeptically.
"These are not 'herbal extracts,' " she declared giving her first
analysis before even opening them. "They're both manufactured drugs.
The gel-caps have names on them. It's a Latin American pharmaceutical
company."
Then she opened the first bottle, took out one of the caps, crushed it
between her fingers, and sniffed.
"Uh-huh, just what I thought." Then she touched a pinch of the white
powder to her tongue. "Right." She made a face and wiped her tongue
with a tissue. "Except it's much stronger than the usual version. I can
tell you right now that this drug, in this potency, is illegal in the
U.S."
What was it? I wondered. Cocaine? And how could she tell its potency
with just a taste? Then I reminded myself why I'd come to her in the
first place: She'd been around the track many, many times.
"It's gonadotropin," she said glaring at me. Like, you damned fool.
"I'm virtually certain. The trade name here in the U.S. is Pergonal,
though that's not what this is. This is a much stronger concoction, and
I can see some impurities." She settled the bottle onto her desk with
what seemed almost a shudder. "This is the pharmaceutical equivalent of
hundred-and-ninety-proof moonshine."
"What is it? What's it supposed it do?" Jesus, I thought, what's he
giving me?
"It's a hormone extracted from the urine of menopausal women. It
triggers a greater than normal egg production and release. It's
sometimes prescribed together with Lupron, which causes your body to
release a similar hormone. Look, if you want to try Pergonal, the real
version, I'll write you a prescription, though I honestly don't think
it's going to do you the slightest bit of good."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd almost been considering
giving Alex Goddard the benefit of the doubt, at least till I found out
more about him, and now he hands me this.
Now we both were looking at the other bottle.
"What do you think that is?" I asked, pointing.
She broke the plastic seal, opened it, and looked in. It too was a
white powder sealed in gel-caps, and she gave one a sniff, then the
taste test.
"I have no idea."
She set the bottle back on her desk, and I stared at it, terrified of
what it might be. Finally I got up my courage and reached for it. A
white sticker had been wrapped around it, with directions for taking .
. . whatever it was . . . written on it. Then I happened to notice that
one corner showed the edge of another label, one beneath the
hand-applied first one. I lifted a letter opener off her desk and
managed to get it under the outer label. With a little scraping and
tugging, I got it off.
"Does this mean anything to you?" I asked her, handing it back. "It's
in Spanish, but the contents seem to be HMG Massone."
"I don't believe it," she said, taking the bottle as though lifting a
cobra. I even got the distinct feeling she didn't want to leave any
fingerprints on it. "That's an even more powerful drug to stimulate
ovarian follicles and induce superovulation. It's highly illegal in
this country. Anybody who gives these drugs in combination to a patient
is flirting with an ethics charge, or worse."