“There’s no other lawyer ready to file a litigation claim against Veritas?” he asked.
She shook her head.“As I said, I’ve managed to dig up twelve other lawyers looking at Veritas, but none of them are willing to serve papers. And every one of those twelve firms is considerably larger than this one.”
“How did you find them?” Gordon asked.“The other deaths?”
“Sometimes lawyers file paperwork with their respective jurisdictions when they have a client who may have a litigation claim. It’s precautionary, that’s all. It doesn’t mean they have to proceed, but just filing gives them the option to pursue an action against the drug’s manufacturer at some point in the future.”
“Can I have the names?” Gordon asked.
Christine didn’t waver for a moment with her response. “The information is privileged, Gordon. It’s not in the public domain until they begin proceedings. These families would get pretty upset if someone showed up asking questions. Imagine how you’d feel.”
“If a stranger showed up on my door and told me someone they loved had died as a result of Triaxcion, it would give me hope. It would let me know I’m not alone.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do it, Gordon. I could get disbarred.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, then pulled a toothpick from his pocket and peeled off the protective cover. “Where do we go from here?”
“Wherever you want. But keep in mind that I’m strongly opposed to starting any legal action against these guys.”
“All right. Leave it with me. Let me think about it.” He stood up and offered his hand. “I’ll get back to you in two weeks, around the end of May.”
She nodded and walked him to the door. “This could consume you if you let it, Gordon,” she said, her voice softer now. Like a friend would tell another friend not to do something stupid.
“Yeah, I understand. It’s a big decision.”
The sun was just touching the tips of the trees on the westerly foothills as he exited the legal office. He slowly walked across the parking lot, fingering the keys to his car. Even with his wealth, he was powerless against this corporation. They were killing people and they knew it. But the dollar signs outweighed the rights of the poor bastards with A-positive blood who were losing their hair. What were thirteen dead when profits ran into the hundreds of millions? What did it matter if every one of those dead people had families who loved and cherished them? Who missed them?
He set his hand on the roof of his car and stared at the darkening sky. He had to decide which way to go. Indirectly, someone at Veritas had murdered his brother. Yet pursuing them would probably destroy him. For a split second he wished he’d never found the pill bottle; that the police had cleaned out
Billy’s medicine cabinet and thrown the damn thing in the garbage. But that hadn’t happened. He knew, and now he needed to decide. He felt sick to his stomach, because he knew one thing for certain.
He was facing a lose-lose situation.
11
BioTech Five was a busy place for a Friday, even busier than usual with the aftermath of Bruce Andrews’s press release the previous day. The reporters were gone, but the activity levels were exaggerated, employees moving briskly about with purpose, fueled by the positive quarterly report on earnings. The company was on a high, and everyone was looking to its CEO as the driving force behind the surge. It was an image Bruce Andrews did little to dispel.
He was in at six, and by nine had made rounds through four of the on-site labs, shaking hands and thanking his staff for their efforts. At nine-fifteen he was back in his office, checking e-mail and waiting for his nine-thirty appointment. He glanced at the lone file on his polished desk and opened it, although he already knew what was inside.
Jennifer Pearce, research scientist with impeccable educational credentials and a proven track record for team management. A Marcon star who, for some reason, had become disillusioned with the pharmaceutical giant and put herself on the market. Her attractive face stared back at him from the cover page, her eyes conveying intelligence and self-confidence. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders, streaked with differing tones of blond and well styled. Her face was lean and her slender, toned neck and shoulders indicated the gym was part of her regular regimen. He liked what he saw.
At precisely nine-thirty, there was a soft knock on his door and his executive assistant ushered Jennifer Pearce into his office. She moved across the expanse of carpet to his desk with confident strides and offered her hand, her eyes locked on his.
“Good morning, Dr. Pearce,” he said, accepting her hand. He was shocked at the strength in her grip but masked his reaction.
“Mr. Andrews,” she replied.
“That sounds pretty formal,” Andrews said, pointing to one of the wingback chairs facing his desk. “If first names are okay with you, I’m Bruce.”
“First names are fine, thank you,” she said, sitting and crossing her legs. She wore a sage-colored pantsuit with a finely knit crew-neck sweater. With the exception of two small diamond-stud earrings, she wore no jewelry.
“It’s a little crazy around here this morning,” he said.“We had a news conference and posted our quarterly profits yesterday. Things went very well.”
“I saw the highlights on the late business report,” she replied. “Veritas seems to be riding a wave right now.”
“One that we’ve worked for,” Andrews said with an easy smile. He glanced at her file, which sat open on his desk. “You spent eight years at Marcon, in their Alzheimer’s research division,” he said, getting right to business. She nodded. “Who did you report to?”
“Allan Connors, one of the regional vice presidents,” she replied. “Sometimes directly to Sheldon Zachery.”
“I know Allan,” Andrews said. “He’s a pretty good guy. Knows his stuff from a technical stance.”
“Very good with the research end of things,” she agreed.
They bandied a string of names back and forth for a few minutes, and Jennifer was impressed with Andrews’s knowledge of who was where and what they were working on. The man had his finger on the pulse of the pharmaceutical industry. She liked the man’s easy manner and quick smile; he was sincere and likable. His knowledge of Alzheimer’s research was impressive from both a technical and management viewpoint. And to Jennifer, that was a key factor. Where Marcon had failed was in their lack of vision. They professed to still be the industry benchmark for R amp;D, but the upper management was decimating the teams working in the research trenches. And ultimately, that had cost Marcon. She had left and taken a potentially huge idea with her.
“We would have you in our Alzheimer’s group, of course,” Andrews was saying. “In fact, what I had envisioned was a second team with you heading it up.”
Jennifer leaned forward slightly. Even with her credentials and experience, it was highly unlikely she would immediately land a team leader position with a new company. “What sort of resources would I have at my disposal?” she asked.
“Ten to twelve researchers with a minimum master’s degree and at least two doctorates in the group. Seven assistant researchers with undergrad degrees and proper maintenance staff for your equipment. Your admin lab would be here, on the second floor of BioTech Five, with an additional six thousand square feet at our facility in White Oak. Most of your time would be spent here.”
“What is White Oak?” she asked.
“The Virginia BioTechnology Research Park at White Oak is a satellite park to this one. There just isn’t enough space in downtown Richmond for all the new high-tech industry, so in 2001 Henrico County and Virginia’s Science Park struck an agreement to set aside over two thousand acres for development. Hewlett-Packard and White Oak Semiconductor are just two companies with major R amp;D facilities at White Oak, and with that sort of muscle going into the new facility, we saw the park as an ideal alternative to the high prices we pay for space here. So we purchased two hundred and eighty thousand square feet of space when it first opened. Turned out to be a great investment; we could sell it now for triple what we paid for it. The only downside is that it’s about forty minutes when traffic is moving. Considerably longer when I-64 is jammed up.”