I am a master in India

Chapter 197 Torture of Conscience
Merck's labs weren't newly built; they were located next to Batia Hospital, connected to a large hospital building.

The location was readily available, and Merck obtained the right to use some facilities at Batia Hospital under the guise of a charitable donation.

For Western pharmaceutical companies, the most valuable thing is experimental data, not those seemingly high-tech medical devices.

The collaboration between Luca and Merck Laboratories was also carried out through Batia Hospital.

"You mean we just need to bring the person to the hospital?" Ron asked.

"That's right, the doctors here will see the patients, register their information, and then hand them over to the next room."

"Cunning Westerners," Ron muttered.

Throughout the entire drug trial process, Merck completely isolated itself. The people were found by local figures like Ron, and the medical records were registered at Batia Hospital.

“You know, man, that’s how Westerners are. They’re clearly robbers, but they always like to portray themselves as gentlemen.”

"Just like how prostitutes call themselves ladies?"

“That’s right, exactly.” Luca laughed.

They walked up the steps and entered the spotless, clean marble foyer, where a large fan blew a pleasant breeze.

Luca spoke a few words to the counter staff, then led Ron through the corridor to a more secluded inpatient ward.

After asking a handyman and a nurse, he finally found the person Merck had told him to be.

It was a short and very thin male doctor sitting at a table piled with messy things.

"Dr. Hamid?" Luca asked.

The doctor was writing something and didn't look up.

"Yes," he replied impatiently.

“I am Luca, sent by Merck.”

Dr. Hamid immediately stopped writing, slowly raised his head and stared at them with a look of hidden worry and curiosity.

"They should have called you to tell you I was coming?" Luca said softly, in a suggestive tone.

“Yes, that’s right.” Hamid smiled, regaining his composure.

He stood up and shook hands across the table, and Luca introduced Ron to the person next to him.

"This is Mr. Sue."

“Of course, Dr. Sur!” Hamid gripped his hand tightly, as if pouring out all his emotions.

"You know me?" Ron asked curiously.

“Every doctor in Mumbai knows you.” Hamid’s impatience had vanished, replaced by enthusiasm.

"That makes things easier. We can skip all that useless chatter." Luca smiled happily.

See, with Ron handling this kind of business, things are twice as easy and efficient.

"So where is he?" Hamid dropped his previous nonchalant attitude, as if he were too busy to be polite.

He proactively asked where the patient was, which sounded very unreal coming from a doctor in an Indian hospital.

This place receives thousands of patients every day, and not a single doctor asks where the patient is.

Hamid's eyes were a deep, almost black brown, shining brightly behind polished gold-rimmed lenses.

“Oh, patient.” Ron turned his head.

“The patient is outside; you need to come with us,” Luca replied.

"Outside?" Hamid was somewhat surprised.

“Yes, there are too many. You come, you come.” Luca said a few words in Hindi, adapting to the local custom.

“You look a bit like an Indian now,” Hamid laughed.

"Yes, I love India more than Brazil!" Luca boasted shamelessly.

"Okay, I need to get ready." Hamid took off his glasses and rubbed the dents they had left on his nose.

“No problem, I think we have plenty of time.” Ron also nodded in a very Indian manner.

Hamid called his assistant, gave him a few instructions, then grabbed his notebook and left with Ron and the others.

Patients always gather outside the hospital gates. Poor patients walk laboriously to the hospital, while wealthy people come by taxi or private car.

Others lay sprawled like rags in the alleyway not far from the hospital.

His clothes were so dirty they were almost the same color as the road, like the rags of street vendors in Mumbai.

Ron and his companions passed by the tattered rags on the ground, where a pair of eyes lay like stagnant water, just like the eyes of those waiting to die in the asylum.

“The patient is in Fourth Pass Lane,” Luca said, leading the way.

“It’s very close to my old clinic,” Hamid replied.

"That's right, it's not far from us."

They walked through two alleyways and stopped in front of an open, dilapidated house.

There was a long queue at the entrance, with men, women, young and old, and all sorts of people.

"What are these?" Hamid's eyes were filled with shock, yet also with a hint of eagerness.

“A part,” Luca stepped into the courtyard, “We don’t know what kind of people Merck needs, so we need you to scout them out.”

Merck's new drugs are all for internal medicine diseases like cancer, which is not Ron's area of ​​expertise.

Therefore, they need an internist like Hamid to make a diagnosis and then initially screen out qualified candidates.

A table was set up in the courtyard, piled high with various agreements and lists. Anand was maintaining order in the procession, and Merck had also sent a representative.

Hamid used this as his desk in the hospital, and the people in line were his patients, even though they were all healthy and had nothing to do with illness.

Yes, most of the patients needed for Phase I clinical trials are healthy individuals. For specific cancer patients, Ron and his team can find them from the shelters; they have plenty of options.

Hamid beckoned a man forward and examined him. After asking a few casual questions, an assistant tied a green wristband around the man's wrist.

This means the inspection has passed, just like the qualified label affixed to a product before it leaves the factory.

Luca immediately pulled the man aside and slammed an English agreement covered in dense handwriting in front of him. "This is an informed consent form. Take a look, and sign it if there are no problems."

"Sir, will I get 500 rupees after signing?" the man asked timidly.

“Yes, you can get it with a signature.” Luca held a bundle of rupees, his fingers swishing along the edge of the banknotes.

The man awkwardly picked up the pen, but was torn between two options.

"What's wrong? You want to back out?" Luca asked in an unfriendly tone.

“No, sir! I can’t read, I can’t write my own name,” the man hurriedly explained.

"A handprint, or a handprint will do." Luca slammed a box of inkpads onto the table.

The man immediately threw down his pen, rubbed his thumb in the inkpad, and then pressed it hard on the agreement. That was it.

“Here’s your money, take it and get in line.” Luca shoved the rupees into his hand.

The man happily accepted it, then shouted loudly to the back of the line, and soon several women with children rushed over in a large group.

They surrounded the man, laughing and shouting, patting his shoulders and back affectionately. An old man kept stroking the man's head, praising him for being sensible and capable.

The man gave the money to his family, and the women, children, and elderly were very satisfied, as was the man himself.

They didn't look at the agreement on the table at all; they couldn't understand it. The paper full of English was like a foreign language to them.

They didn't care; their large family of eight or nine people only cared about five hundred rupees.

Ron frowned, his eyes filled with worry.

This is cannibalism!

Who is being eaten, and who is the one eating people?
His gaze swept over the Merck representative, Dr. Hamid, Luca, and the man's family, and he remained silent.

When someone received the money, the people queuing in the courtyard erupted in cheers.

They were eager to try, their eyes full of anticipation.

They wait to be eaten, willingly being eaten.

"He can't talk?" Luca's strange cry drew Ron's attention.

“But he is in good health, sir.”

Two men stood in front of Hamid's table; they appeared to be brothers.

One of them had a blank expression, was drooling, and was muttering something to himself. The other person supporting him was trying his best to explain.

“He’s mentally challenged!” Luca frowned.

“But the doctor put a green wristband on him.” The person speaking grabbed his brother’s stiff, uncontrollable arm, trying to prove it.

Does he know what he's going to do next?

"No problem, he completely agrees."

“But…” Luca was a little troubled. He turned to look at the representative of Merck, who was expressionless.

He then looked at Dr. Hamid at the table, who was examining the "patient's" body and paying no attention to anything else.

In the end, Luca could only look to Ron, hoping that "Dr. Sue" could offer some advice.

"Forget it," Ron said, unable to bear it any longer. "We..."

“No problem, the doctor said it’s acceptable, so let’s accept it.” Anand suddenly walked over.

“Yes, yes! No problem, my brother is healthy.” The man pressed his brother’s arm down and pressed his fingerprint on the agreement.

“Hmm?” Ron frowned and looked at Anand.

“Ron, please be kind enough to accept him,” he explained in a low voice.

"Wait, kind of you?"

"Yes, look how badly that younger brother has been tortured. He must often go hungry."

Following the direction Anand was pointing, Ron finally realized that something was wrong with the two brothers.

The older brother was strong and had smooth, shiny skin. The younger brother, however, was as thin as a stick, with scars of various sizes on his arms and face.

“We’ll take him in now, and since he can make money, his brother will definitely stop torturing him. Maybe he can live a little longer.”

Ron fell silent for a moment. Clinical trials aren't just about giving someone an injection; they require long-term follow-up by medical staff.

If they agree to let this mentally disabled person become a drug recipient, then his brother will no longer beat or scold him, nor will he disappear without a trace after reaching a certain age.

Should we take him in as a medicine patient, or reject this mentally challenged person who lacks cognitive abilities and let him fend for himself?

No matter what choice Ron makes, it will be a torment to his conscience.

He remained silent and did not answer.

Anand waved his hand, and the older brother happily pulled his younger brother aside to wait. They would be sent to Merck's laboratory today.

Ron wondered what it was like for local generic drug manufacturers in India.

A child's crying interrupted his reverie.

"What is it now?" he asked.

“This woman wants her child to come.” Luca was also stunned.

"what?"

“She failed the test,” Luca said, pointing to the woman in front of him. “She says her child is fine.”

“Sir, my daughter is really okay, she’s very healthy,” the thin woman pleaded. “We haven’t eaten for days, we have no money, we’ll die.”

Ron took a deep breath. "Give her a hundred rupees and let her go."

“Anand, you stay here and watch.”

After giving his instructions, Ron left the yard without looking back.

He couldn't stand staying in this godforsaken place.

(End of this chapter)