Eric Prescott sat back on the beige leather couch in his office, admiring the awards hanging on his wall. The Lasker Award, now nicely framed and mounted, was the newest addition to his collection. Only the Nobel was still missing. Damn their hesitation! He was the leading neuroscientist of his generation, with an endowed professorship at the Institute for Advanced Neuroscience, more than six million dollars a year in funding for his laboratory, a large research group of some three dozen graduate students and postdoctoral fellows, multiple publications in the most prestigious journals, and all of the other major awards he wanted. Not to mention the largest office in the Institute, except for the Director’s.

“The Lasker looks good up there, Eric.”

Prescott turned to see Donald Moore smiling at the door, wearing his signature red and blue bow tie and rumpled tweed jacket.

“Thanks, Don. And thanks again for your help in getting it. I know you pushed the committee for me.”

“No problem. What’s good for you is good for the Institute.”

Moore took a seat in one of the leather armchairs across from Prescott. “I actually wanted to touch base on the next one. I’m working on this year’s Nobel nomination.”

As a Nobel laureate, Moore was entitled to make nominations for the Prize, and Prescott knew that Moore had nominated him each year for the last five years.

“That certainly is the one I’d like to add to my collection,” Prescott said. “I appreciate your keeping my name in there. And the chance to work on Bergner in September.”

“It’ll come, we just have to keep pushing. Sometimes it can take several years.”

Prescott glanced at his wall full of awards. “What are they waiting for? Everyone else has come around.”

Moore shrugged. “You heard what Bergner said, they want to see a treatment. And sometimes the Swedes just take their time. You’re young and healthy, hang in there.”

Prescott laughed. He knew that his tall slender frame and jet-black hair made him look younger than his forty-seven years.

“Yes, I’m hopeful that I’ll last long enough for the Swedes to make up their minds.”

“Glad to hear it,” Moore said. “Seriously though, is there anything new I can add to this year’s nomination? Especially any progress toward a drug.”

“I wish, but unfortunately not yet,” Prescott said. “You know that I have most of my lab working on it. Several other labs are too, of course, using my mice for the same kind of drug testing we’re doing.”

Moore nodded. “That’s okay, you’ll share in the award if one of them should succeed. The only risk is if someone found a drug with an approach that didn’t involve your mouse model.”

Prescott furrowed his brow. Yes, that’s the worry. “I know, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I don’t see anyone making progress in any system other than my mice.”

“How about Pam Weller, the woman Bergner mentioned?” Moore asked.

“Her system has been difficult for people to use and it hasn’t caught on. It’s really just Weller and Karl Meyers who have it working effectively.”

“Yes, but if Bergner’s right she’s doing a drug screen herself over at the Langmere. Could that be a problem?”

Prescott looked out his window at the Charles River, the separation between Cambridge and Boston. Frozen solid in the middle of a cold winter.

“Only if she succeeds,” he said.

“Sure, but what if she did get something? It wouldn’t make your work any less important, and you could wind up sharing the prize with her. But I can also imagine the committee giving it to her alone. Or maybe to her and Meyers,” Moore said.

“I don’t think we need to worry. I’m pretty sure she’s not getting anywhere.”

Moore raised his eyebrows. “Really? How do you know that?”

Prescott chuckled. “I’ve developed a source at the Langmere. Do you know Mary O’Connor?”

“I’ve met her. She’s pretty second rate, although she somehow managed to get tenure over there.”

“She’s also Pam Weller’s mentor. So I’ve cultivated her by making her think I’m interested in promoting Weller’s career, acting like a senior person in the field. And she’s all too happy to keep me posted on Weller’s progress. Talking to me makes her feel important.”

Moore smiled faintly. “I like it. And what does your friend O’Connor have to say?”

“I heard from her a week or so ago. They just completed Weller’s mid-tenure review and O’Connor is worried because her attempts to screen for a drug have come up empty. In fact, they advised Weller to drop the project and put her efforts into something else if she’s going to have any chance of tenure.”

“So no threat there?”

Prescott leaned back and grinned. “Doesn’t seem like it. I doubt if Pam Weller will even be around much longer.”