Persistent journalist Lisa Rand (Collin Wilcox) is trying to gain an interview with Paul who has won the Irish Sweepstakes. Her personal approach, inviting him to dinner at her home, however, will not get Paul to reveal that he's given all the money away to The Garms Clinic, the institution trying to find a cure for his terminal illness.
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Chronology of Events
Monday, June 6
Father Bart had given me the name of a Buddhist monastery outside Tokyo, and I was made welcome there with his introduction. Though only in that haven of serenity the few hours, I felt my soul refreshed, but am unable to say why.
If only Katie had been able to come, how she would have appreciated it. We talked for a long while on the phone when I got back here to the hotel, and though I miss her even more, the communication also gave peace to my mind - aside from the fact that she's still not able to move around.
Was just about to go to bed when a call came from Marcella, informing me that I'd won the Irish Sweepstakes. ??? Can't remember buying a ticket, however, have apparently won a half million dollars, and it seems to be on the level.
Marcella said she'd been trying to get me for hours, and that the sponsors had reserved accommodations for me in San Francisco, and a plane ticket would be waiting at the JAL desk in the morning.
It's too late to call Katie in Hawaii - at Violet's, at least - but Marcella said that she'd phone her in the morning.
Paul receives a call in Japan that he's won a half million dollars from a lottery.
en route to San Francisco
Tuesday, June 7
Slept little last night, so took a pill early on in the flight, and woke up just as we were passing over Hawaii - and Kate down there.
Who would have expected, when we set out for the trip to Tahiti, the flight reunion and Johnny's wedding that I'd be returning to San Francisco alone so soon - and a half million richer.
That won't be for long, as it didn't take me even five minutes to decide what to do with the money.
The Sweepstakes people met me at the airport, and had alerted the press. My hotel was swarming with them, articles about me in all the papers before I even landed.
There were tons of messages - one of the nicest to greet me was from Joe Murray whom I hadn't seen for ages.
Managed to sneak a call to Gene Mason from a pay phone, and he assured me that Garms is still the closest lab to finding a cure, then indicated a way I can get into him tomorrow via the lawyer's office next door.
Sitting right now in the antiseptic atmosphere of The Garms Clinic, waiting to see its director.
Dr. Walker was totally matter-of-fact about my donation, quickly guessed that I have the disease they are researching, but gave me no more than a couple minutes.
Like every doctor, save Daniel Grossman in New York, cold as ice and indifferent in the presence of someone in my desperate position. Quite the opposite was Dr. Barry Givens, in charge of external relations - the man who'd signed correspondence I'd had with the clinic.
He wasn't just kind and interested, but totally changed my perspective. While I've made every attempt to disconnect myself from this disease - never even remembering its name, that seemingly unpronounceable string of consonants that spell out the name of the man who “discovered” it, Barry, in his eagerness to show me around every nook and cranny of the research facility, suddenly made me want to know everything.
He explained fascinating things, and I even found myself taking notes as Barry indicated what each lab was working on. Always more of an arts and humanities man, I was suddenly gripped by an interest in science.
Was fascinated by what everyone was doing, and how they went about their pursuits. Barry and I then chatted over a pot of coffee in his office, and that was when he dropped his bombshell.
Encouragingly saying that my donation was going to accelerate the pace of research, Barry indicated that he honestly believed that they'd find a cure now much sooner than his earlier letters had advised.
This was particularly due, he added, to a number of anonymous donations Garms had garnered over the past half year from around the country. In every month but March, they had received a check for $320,000.
Exactly the amount we'd arranged for Kate to withdraw from the estate each month without having to resort to the Court. And March was the month she'd paid over $300,000 to Pete Gaffney Racing.
The feeling I had around my eyes - an overwhelming wave of emotion - possessed me for a moment, and I just looked into my cup until regaining some control.
There was so much he said, but what Barry saved for last gave me the most hope to add to the new statistical odds he quoted earlier. He explained that the parameters of nine months to two years had no scientific basis.
They only represented something anecdotal. Most individuals who had presented with the full-blown disease and all its symptoms had died shortly thereafter. But others, like I, were patients who only found out accidentally via random blood tests.
The longest any of these lived was two years, the shortest nine months. But Barry believed it was equally possible that someone could be carrying the virus for five years or more without symptoms; they'd just not been encountered yet.
I wondered why neither Mason nor any of the others had told me that. When I got back to the hotel, rang Katie, and told her I was no longer rich, but I thought that she might not be either if she kept giving away her money to The Garms Clinic. It was a moment when we'd both dearly have wanted to be face to face.
Told her that Alex Ryder had called, and inveigled me to have lunch with him tomorrow. Also that he appeared oblivious that we are together, Kate's involvement in the race team being connected to Pete and June rather than me. If we've managed to fool Molly, we're doing well with the subterfuge.
Things are starting to come apart at the seams. Had the most horrific meeting with Joe Murray - who stormed out of my suite with hatred because I wouldn't buy life insurance from him.
It was wrenching. A reporter, Lisa Rand, was in the next room, and I couldn't even hint to him at the reason why I wouldn't buy the policy. And Joe always so supportive in every way he could.
Like an uncle to me when my father died. A nice guy, and now ….Had dinner at Lisa's apartment. She's the celebrated publisher's daughter, and trying to do a story about me, but I think I should be able to get around her curiosity. An unusual woman.
Though besieged by the press, he manages to sneak away to The Garms Clinic, the institute trying to find a cure for his disease, and gives them the entire half million.
In the afternoon a journalist, Lisa Rand, barges into Paul's suite, and insists on interviewing him. While she is there, his old friend Joe Murray arrives with the idea of selling Paul a life insurance policy.
Paul declines, saying that he can't use the insurance, but offers Joe a check equivalent to the commission he'd get on the sale.
Highly insulted, Joe departs, saying that the two men are no longer friends.
Lisa has heard everything from the next room, and offers sympathy and dinner at her home.
She is the daughter of a Pulitzer Prize winning publisher, and admits that she too wants something from Paul. He invites her to a ball the next night where he is guest of honor.
San Francisco - en route to Paris
Wednesday, June 8
Mason's report from last month was “no change” with the principal concern, but that I'd picked up more secondary things. I don't know which is worse, having to come in here or meet Alex Ryder for lunch.
Had the most unpleasant experience with Alex. What else could meeting him be, I might ask, but this was particularly annoying. He's claiming that the ticket that won was his.
Molly seemed neutral. I couldn't tell whether she was part of the scam or not. Kate once told me about a confidence racket that got her sister thrown out of two colleges - lucky to get away with nothing more than dismissal.
After that irritation went over to see Garrett who is recovering very slowly, and despite Alita Greenley about to stand trial for his wife's murder, he remained extremely depressive, and I couldn't stay long with him.
Dropped into HSD and got a lot of ribbing about the lottery win. I searched the eyes of so many friends, and even sensed begrudgery in some of those who'd been close.
Now having massive second thoughts about attending an evening at the Herricks, but I've asked Lisa to go with me, so might as well. Andy was always one of my most important clients.
I could never believe that San Francisco could ever close in on me in the heavy way the fog envelopes the land. That awful claustrophobia that's supposed to be an early symptom of the disease has hit me the same way it did in the Caribbean.
I've just got to get out of here. Mary Herrick was simply vile. Always a bitch, she outdid herself tonight, expecting me to donate to that “cultural center,” then throwing us out when I wouldn't.
After leaving Lisa at her place, I caught up with a grubby guy who's been around too much of the time for it to be coincidence. Appears that he was hoping to blackmail me, and this last bit of disgusting carry on has left me feeling unclean.
I just can't wait to get out of the city and back to Europe. Rang Lisa, and she's going to come over and keep me company until it's time to leave for the airport.
What is that I keep pointing out to myself? That my judgment has gone south - and I ought to be more wary because of that?
Foolishly let Lisa Rand in my hotel suite, “unwittingly” gave her the opportunity to look through my private papers, and spent personal time with her, thinking that I was miles ahead of the woman.
And I was critical of Judge Wilson for the same confidence over Jerry Haynes! Not that Lisa inherited a slew of journalistic brains from her Pulitzer-Prize winning father.
She bought information from that grubby parasite who'd been following me, but looked at me stupidly, not having even found what the Garms Clinic did when she wrote a story about my giving them the half million.
When I asked her if she knew, Lisa asked insipidly, “what's that got to do with my story?” The kid obviously didn't get past the first month of journalism school, getting the job she had on no more than her name.
Except for that monster I met in India, never thought I'd have the urge to hit a woman, but that dense look on the face of someone daring to call themselves a reporter was too much.
She went on to an advanced level of infantile behavior when refusing to cancel publication of her revelations about me. The smirk on her face when she said that she'd already turned it in!
A petulance I hadn't seen since playground days. The little bully. It burned me up, and if this ridiculous woman whom I'd idiotically trusted were not enough to savor, who walked into the restaurant but Everyone's Hero, Alex Ryder.
As so often the case, drunk, and with Molly in tow. Out of control at this point, I announced to one and all that I was dying.
It seemed like I'd shouted the news, but when I quickly looked over at the other guests in the restaurant, and the waiters, they were all in conversation, and too far away to have heard me.
To think I freely gave away the bargaining chip Hufschmidt thought great enough to keep me from testifying before the Senate hearing.
Of course, in the distress I felt after packing, it was to Katie or Father Bart I should have turned for comfort, not Lisa. I just keep hoping that the next time such a story is told, my instincts will be better.
Cooled down a little when Lisa showed she'd been lying, and gave me her unsubmitted story, Big Brain even telling Molly to stick with Alex.
But the truth of the matter is they deserve each other. I've taken three aspirin, but still have a splitting headache. Misery on top of misery.
9 - 20 June 1966 (Belgian Grand Prix /
"Down With Willy Hatch" / 24 Hours of Le Mans)
Paul has been invited to lunch by Alex Ryder, engaged to the sister of Paul's fiancee Kate Pierce. Alex claims that the winning lottery ticket was his, but that he gave it to Paul when he didn't have Paul's handy.
Paul is outraged at the suggestion, and storms from the table.
That night he attends a grand function at the home of Andrew and Mary Herrick. Mary is raising funds for a cultural center, and asks Paul to contribute $50,000, but when he refuses to give her anything, she throws him out.
Paul decides to fly back to Europe the same night. Near his hotel, Paul collars a man whom he's noticed following him. The man admits that he's been watching Paul in hopes of finding something a rich man would like to hide.
Despite the whiff of blackmail, Paul lets him go. But the man, knowing that Lisa Rand is looking for information about Paul, tells her that Paul visited The Garms Clinic the previous day, and from this, Lisa surmises that he gave all the half million to the clinic, and writes a story to that effect for her paper.
Unaware of this, Paul asks Lisa to keep him company while he's waiting to leave for the airport.
She tells him about the story, and Paul demands that she give it to him, and that it is not printed. She refuses angrily, and they go back and forth, Lisa claiming that the story is already at the paper.
A drunken Alex Ryder then comes into the restaurant with Molly Pierce, and works on Paul again to split the lottery winnings with him. He becomes so annoying that Paul admits that he's given all the money away to The Garms Clinic.
No one seems to make anything of this, and eventually, he tells the assembled that he is dying. Lisa then gives Paul the story, which she will not submit, and Paul leaves the shaken Alex, Molly and Lisa.