Kate called her father from the plane and assured him that all was going along on schedule. And in Washington, they were met by a limousine, which took them to Congress. And as soon as they got there, Peter felt much calmer. He knew what he was going to say to them more or less, and he wasn't really worried.

Two congressional aides were waiting for him in the staff room, and he was led to a conference room, where he was offered a cup of coffee. Kate was still with him then, but a page came for her shortly after that, and escorted her to a seat in the gallery, where she could watch him. She wished him luck, and touched his hand as she left, but she didn't stop to kiss him. And a few minutes later, he was led into the room himself, and for an instant he looked startled. No matter how well prepared he was, it was still an extraordinary experience to face the men and women who ran the country, and offer them his opinions. It was only the second time he had ever been there, and the first time, Frank had done all the talking. This time was entirely different.

Peter was led to a witness table, and sworn in. The members of the subcommittee sat across from him, with microphones, and after he gave his name, and the name of his company, the questions began without further ado, as the members of Congress listened with interest.

He was asked specifically about certain drugs, and his views about their extraordinarily elevated prices. He tried to give easily comprehensible reasons for it, but in fact, even to his own ears, the explanations sounded hollow and somewhat futile. The truth was that the companies producing these drugs were making a fortune overcharging the public, and the members of Congress knew it. Wilson-Donovan was guilty of some of it, though their practices and their profits were not quite as blatant as some of the others.

They brought up some insurance issues after that, and at the very end, a congresswoman from Idaho said that she understood he was appearing in front of the FDA later that day, to request early human testing for a new product. And just to keep them informed on new developments in the field, she asked him to tell them something about it.

Peter explained it as simply as he could, without going into technicalities, or jeopardizing any secrets, and he told the members of Congress that it was going to change the nature of chemotherapy, and make it accessible to the layman, without need for professional assistance. Mothers could administer it to children, husbands to wives, or with care, one could administer it to oneself. It was going to revolutionalize the care of all patients with cancer. It was going to make the common man able to treat himself or his family, in rural or urban areas, anywhere that it was needed.

“And will the 'common man, as you say, be able to afford it? I think that's the key here.” Another congresswoman asked, as Peter nodded.

“We certainly hope so. It is among our goals for Vicotec, to keep the price down as much as possible, and make it accessible to everyone who needs it.” He looked quiet and strong as he said the words, and several heads nodded approval as they listened. He had been a very knowledgeable, straightforward, and impressive witness. And a short time later they thanked him as he was excused, the entire panel of the subcommittee shook his hand, and they wished him luck at the FDA hearing that afternoon, with his clearly remarkable product. Peter was pleased as he left the room, and walked back to the conference room behind an aide. And a moment later, Katie joined him.

Why did you say that?” she asked him unhappily under her breath as he gathered up his papers. She had yet to congratulate him or tell him how well he'd done. Even strangers had done that much. But his wife was looking at him with scarcely concealed disapproval. It was like looking at Frank as Peter watched her. “You made it sound like we're going to give Vicotec away. You know that isn't the impression Dad wanted you to create here. It's going to be an expensive drug. It's got to be if we're going to make our money back, and make the kind of profit we deserve to on it.” Her eyes looked calculating and hard as he watched her.

“Let's not talk about it,” Peter said as he picked up his briefcase, thanked the aides and walked out of the building with Katie right behind him. He had nothing left to say to her. She didn't understand any of it. She understood the profit in the drugs they sold, but not the heart, she understood the words, but not the meaning. But she also didn't dare push him now. He had successfully overcome one obstacle, but now he had his biggest hurdle in front of him, at the FDA hearings. They had a little over an hour left before he had to appear, as they got into the limo.

Kate suggested they go somewhere for lunch, but Peter only shook his head. He was thinking of what she had just said to him after the congressional hearings, He had blown it, as far as she was concerned. He had failed, he had not upheld the party line, promising to keep Vicotec, and all their other drugs, as expensive as possible, so they could make a huge profit on them, and please her father. He was glad he had said what he had, and he was going to fight like a dog in the next months, to keep Vicotec's price down. Frank had no idea how relentless Peter planned to be about it.

In the end, they ate roast beef sandwiches in the limousine, with coffee in paper cups. And Peter looked nervous to Kate as the car stopped at the FDA at 5600 Fishers Lane in Rockville, Maryland. It had taken them half an hour to get there from Capitol Hill, and when they arrived, Peter could see easily it was not a pretty building, but important things happened here, and that was all Peter could think of. He kept thinking of what was going to happen here today. What he had come here to do. What he had promised Frank and Katie. The promise he'd made them hadn't come easily, but being there was far worse, knowing that he was hiding a dangerous flaw from the FDA, and promising them the drug was ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting public. He just prayed that Frank held up his end of the deal, and would pull the product if they had to.

Peter's palms were damp as he walked into the hearing room, and he was too nervous to notice the people attending the hearing. He said not a word to Katie as she left him and took her seat. In fact, he forgot all about her. He had important work to do, he had ideals to sacrifice, and principles to relinquish. And yet, if the product worked, they would save lives, or at the very least extend them. It was still a terrible quandary for him, knowing what he did, and also how badly the drug was needed.

At the FDA, Peter was not sworn in, but here truth was even more crucial. And as he looked around, he felt light-headed. But at least he knew what he had to do now. And it would be over soon. He hoped that his betrayal of the very people he had hoped to help would take only a few minutes, though he feared it might take considerably longer.

He felt his hands shake as he waited for the advisory committee to begin asking him questions. It was the most terrifying experience of his life, and nothing like his appearance before Congress only that morning. That had been so harmless and so simple compared to this. His appearance at the FDA seemed so ominous in comparison, there was so much more at stake, so much resting on his shoulders. But he kept telling himself that all he had to do was get through it. He couldn't allow himself to think of anyone, not Kate, not Frank, not Suchard, not even the reports he had read. He had to stand up and speak about Vicotec, and he knew everything about it, as he sat, waiting nervously at the long narrow table.

He thought suddenly of Katie then, and all he had sacrificed for her, and her father. He had given them the gift of his integrity, and his courage. It was more than he “owed” anyone, her or her father.

But once again, he forced her from his mind, and tried to gather his wits, as the head of the committee began speaking. Peter could feel his head spinning as they asked him a series of very specific and technical questions, and the reason he had come here. He explained clearly and succinctly, and in a strong voice that he had come before them for approval of human trials for a product which he believed would change the lives of the segment of the American public afflicted with cancer. There was a small stirring among the committee members, a shuffling of papers, and a look of interest, as he began describing Vicotec and how it could be used by cancer patients everywhere. He told them essentially the same thing he had told Congress only that morning. The difference here was that these people were not going to be impressed by a flashy medicine show. They wanted, and were able to understand, all the most complicated details. And Peter was stunned to realize after a while, as he glanced up at the clock on the wall, that he had been talking for an hour, when they asked him the final question.

“And do you in fact believe, Mr. Haskell, that Vicotec is ready to be tested on humans, even in small doses on a limited number of people who understand the risk they are taking? Do you truly feel that you have in fact assessed the nature of all its properties, and any risk that could be involved? Do you give us your word, sir, that you feel without any hesitation that this product is ready for human trials at this moment?”

Peter heard the question clearly in his head and he saw the man's face and knew what he had to answer. He had come here to do this. It was a matter of a single word, of assuring them that Vicotec was indeed everything he said, and Everything they had thought it would be. All he had to do was promise them, as keepers of the American public's safety, that Vicotec would not harm them. And as he looked around the room at them, and thought of the people there, their husbands and wives, their mothers and their children, and the infinite number of people Vicotec would reach, he knew he couldn't do that. Not for Frank, or for Kate, or for anyone. But most of all, not for himself. And he knew without a moment's doubt, that he should never have come here. Whatever it cost him, whatever they said, whatever the Donovans took from him or did to him now, he knew he could not do it. He could not lie to these people about Vicotec, or about anything. That was not who he was. And it was absolutely clear to him what he was doing when he did it. He knew with absolute certainty that his whole life was gone at that single moment, his job, his wife, maybe even his sons, or not, if he was lucky. They were almost grown, and they had to understand what their father stood for. And if they couldn't accept that, or understand that integrity was worth paying a price for, then he had done his job wrong with them. But whatever it took now, he was willing to pay whatever price he had to, to be fair to the American public.