David sat rigidly in his chair and read the letter a second time. You can take so many shocks and then you enter a catatonic state. He felt close to that
He leaned back in his seat and looked towards the ceiling.
'He surprised you?' Leapman queried.
'That's an understatement.'
'I urged him to speak to you, tell you his plans. He wouldn't have it Said something about having management thrust upon you. Thought you'd function best if it came without warning.'
David's eyes switched to Leapman. 'Do you mean he told you he was planning to kill himself?'
'No. Well, not in a way that I understood.' Leapman nervously fingered his tie.
'He told you about the cancer?'
'Yes.'
'And what exactly did he say he would do about it?'
Leapman examined his beer intently, as if the answer to David's question might rise to the surface.
'Go on,' David insisted. 'I want to know.'
'He, um-this is embarrassing-he said he was going to… step down.'
David's lips softened slowly into a grin and the grin turned to a laugh, the first breach in the gloom since he'd heard that Manny was dead. 'And he stepped down twenty-one floors. That's typical of Pop. A bad-taste joke about his own suicide. Come on, Michael, I don't mind if you laugh. Pop certainly wouldn't. You bet he enjoyed saying it.'
Leapman mustered a smile from somewhere. He'd never been in tune with Manny's humor.
David found it comical, the more so when he imagined his father's secret enjoyment in seeding the idea to his solemn sidekick. 'So did he also tell you he wanted me to step up. so to speak?'
Leapman nodded.
'Did you think he was out of his mind? Be honest'
'It was unexpected. But you can count on my total support,' Leapman added quickly.
'I'm going to need it' A declaration of intent from David. Suddenly, intuitively, but irreversibly, he'd made the greatest decision in his life. He would give the job his best shot, in spite of his contempt for the business world. The mission to Milan had boosted his estimate of his own ability as an executive. Manny had been wise, as well as witty. He was right about the high to be had from being in control. 'The shareholders have to be reassured,' he said as if the matter had been utmost in his mind for weeks. 'What's been happening to our stock price? I saw in the plane it fell sharply when the news broke.'
'Down another six points this morning. Someone is going to stage a raid unless we buck the trend.'
'A takeover, you mean?'
'That's the danger. The bastards know that there's value there. It's all about loss of confidence. We go into decline and they wait for the moment to strike.'
'And then they break us up.'
'It could happen very soon.'
'Unless we act.'
'Right.' Leapman ran his right forefinger slowly around die rim of his glass. 'To restore confidence you need something positive to tell the market. Thanks to your father, we have the reputation of being rock solid, or did, until the last couple of weeks. We have a good base of OTC products-'
'OTC?'
'Over the counter. Consumer brands. And Kaprofix is still one of the top prescription drugs for angina.'
'But could be overtaken soon?'
'Already has been. Adalat-Procardia has raced ahead of us.'
'Whose is that?'
'It's jointly produced by Bayer and Pfizer. And Marion-M Dow are making inroads with their drug.'
'We must have plenty of things under development.'
Leapman shook his head. 'Not for the angina market. And the patents of Kaprofix start expiring soon.'
'That means our competitors can market me-too imitations?'
'Right.'
There was a bleak period of silence.
David resumed, 'It's becoming screamingly obvious mat I need to bone up on our research and development program. You're closer to it than I am, Michael. Is there anything at a promising stage? My father implied in his letter that decisions had to be made soon.'
'That's a tough one,' Leapman hedged. 'Sure, I can run through the possibilities with you, only I'd rather do it in the office with some figures in front of me.'
'Good enough. Let's go.'
Leapman hesitated. 'Something I wanted to mention. There's a guy you really should meet. Professor Alaric Churchward, from Corydon University.'
'Corydon? Where in hell is that?'
'Indianapolis. They specialize in the biological sciences. I think they were established during the Kennedy Administration, or soon after, about the time when the potential of genetics began to be appreciated.'
'After the DNA code was broken?'
He nodded. 'Churchward joined them from Yale about 1981,1 believe. If you had to pick out a future Nobel laureate, he'd be the obvious choice.'
'And you think he would be useful to us?'
'He already is. We have strong links with Corydon, thanks to your father. We're funding a good proportion of the research that goes on there.'
'In genetic engineering, you mean?' David's voice was pitched on a note of unease.
'You don't have to sound so dubious,' Leapman gently chided him. 'Genetically engineered drugs are the future of our industry. The great advances in medical health from now on are going to be made by geneticists. They already provided us with safer and better insulin for diabetics. In the next twenty years, they're going to produce vaccines for every disease you care to name.' He paused and took more beer. 'But as it happens, the latest breakthrough owes nothing at all to biotechnology.'
'A breakthrough? You really mean that?'
Leapman actually summoned up a smile. 'From old- fashioned chemical compounds, David.'
'A drug?'
He nodded.
'What for-which disease?'
'The most prevalent killer of all.'
'Cancer?'
'Old age, David. Old age.'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Manny Flexner's funeral service took place in the ante-chapel of the Temple Emanu-El on Fifth Avenue, the world's largest synagogue. The attendance of over two hundred and fifty was a measure of his popularity; Jews, gentiles, a broad cross section of New York society. 'He was a much loved man,' the rabbi said in his address,
