admittedly something of a cliche in funeral orations, but in this case it was true on several counts, most obviously the high count of attractive women in the congregation.
Later the same afternoon, while most of the family were still crowded into the house on the Upper East Side eating sandwiches and trading stories about Manny's escapades in love and business, an Emergency Board Meeting was held at the Manflex headquarters. David Flexner was proposed as the new Chairman and elected unopposed. Michael Leapman, his proposer, made it clear that this had been Manny's wish. The seven executive and two nonexecutive members applauded politely and a bottle of champagne was opened. The price of Manflex stock, which had been falling all week, picked up a few points by the close of trading.
'Better news, then,' David remarked, then Leapman told him.
'Sorry, but it isn't The price rose on a rumor that someone is buying shares in significant numbers. The market senses a takeover bid.'
'So soon?'
'Sharks are fast movers. We've taken a hard knock and they smell blood.'
Vehemently, by his easygoing standard, David said, 'They can go to hell, Michael. No asset stripper is going to tear Manflex apart. It was my father's life. Thousands of other lives are staked on it. I have a responsibility to the workforce.'
Leapman rested a hand on his shoulder. 'Don't let it get to you, David. This is the way the market works, unfortunately.'
'It's all about confidence, right?' said David. 'We have to demonstrate that Manflex has a future under my management.'
'Sure-and if we play it right-'
'I know what you're going to say, but it seems incredible to me that the survival of a great pharmaceuticals group like ours can hang on one blockbuster. Damn it, we sell hundreds of products.'
'So do our competitors. But where would Glaxo be without Zantac, or SmithKline Beecham without Tagamet? In reality what you need is a steady flow of new products, but that requires an incredible outlay on research. Have you any idea how many drugs are patented and tested for every one mat is successful? Five thousand, David. Five thousand to one. Those are the odds in this business. We're not equipped to compete on that scale, not anymore.'
'Okay, I get the point. I must meet with Professor Churchward just as soon as possible. Does that mean a trip to Indianapolis?'
Leapman nodded. 'How soon do you want to go?'
'The next available flight, I guess. Really I should be back at the house with the family right now. They'll have to make allowances.'
'Can't you tell them it's important business?'
'You know what they'll say? 'Isn't he just like his father?''
They took the plane that evening and spent the night at the Hilton-at-the-Circle in Indianapolis. After breakfast, they took a taxi out to Corydon University, some fifteen minutes' drive west along Washington Street and beyond the airport. Leapman filled in some background on the man they were about to meet. 'He didn't discover PDM3, but he was the first to see its potential. He's been working on a treatment for Alzheimer's disease for at least ten years, originally for his Ph.D., I believe. About five years ago he started testing a compound that seemed to have some potential in combating the memory loss associated with Alzheimer's. We called it Prodermolate, or PDM3. The first results were promising, no more, but lately-and I mean just in the past few weeks- he's come up with some results that can only be described as sensational, David. They have implications not just for Alzheimer's, but for the mental capacities of the population at large.'
'You said my father knew about this project?' David inquired.
'Sure, Manny knew. He met Professor Churchward several times.'
'So what was his assessment?'
'Of Churchward?'
'Of PDM3.'
'He gave it his backing.'
'You mean he was willing to stake the future of Manflex on it?'
Leapman shook his head. 'He didn't have the information we have.'
'But it's only just over a week since he died. Has it all taken off since then?'
Leapman put his hand to his face and said as if heralding a sensitive matter. 'Well, David, Manny was a terrific guy and we all loved him-'
'But?'
'But towards the end he had his mind on other things. I don't blame him for that. When he told me about his terminal illness, I saw problems for the business, so I did what anyone in my position would do-discreetly took the pulse of the company. I asked for an update on all the research that we were undertaking, right across the world. That was how I learned that Churchward was almost ready to publish these fantastic results with PDM3.'
'You didn't discuss it with Pop?'
'I left it too late.'
Corydon University campus was compact and unfussy. Not an ivy leaf in sight. Solid sixties prestructured building with some computer age additions. Security cameras at the entrance. A black-uniformed receptionist flanked by video screens and with a console in front of him. He keyed in their names and they watched them appear on one of the monitors. Then they had to go through the ritual of being photographed for identity tags. Finally, Professor Churchward's secretary arrived-a demure young woman with a tag mat read
They stepped out into a low-ceilinged laboratory bristling with equipment, huge transparent cylinders on stands and metal structures festooned with white tubing and electric cord. Buff-colored notices were prominent everywhere warning of biohazards such as mouth pipetting. The steady hum of computers from the far end drew their attention to a series of keyboards and screens ranged along a bench. Something very like a submarine periscope was mounted there. It was being used by a slight, dark-haired man in a white coat.
Bridget Walkswell announced them.
'One moment,' the professor said without moving from the eyepiece. He touched an adjustment control. Beside him on a video display there was a small movement in a pattern looking like a Chinese ideogram which David recognized as a configuration of DNA, the genetic blueprint. The professor continued with what he was doing for another half minute or so. When he eventually drew back, he still didn't give his visitors a glance. His chair was on wheels and he glided to his right and tapped something into the nearest computer.
Without exactly apologizing for her boss, Ms. Walkswell spread her hands in what amounted to a gesture of helplessness and then brought out two stools from under the bench. David and Leapman sat and waited.
Finally Professor Churchward swiveled around and said, 'So are we in business, gentleman?'-at the same time snapping his fingers and gesturing towards the door. Ms. Walk-swell left the room.
Obviously the great man had more interesting things to do with his time than talk to a couple of business execs from New York. However, he offered them coffee, gesturing to a beaker of water simmering over a Bunsen burner. Beside it were some chipped mugs and unwashed spoons. Speaking almost in unison, they said they'd only just finished breakfast.
Churchward looked like a marathon runner, without an ounce of spare flesh, but his metabolism didn't require athletics to keep him in shape. He was one of the type who burn up energy without getting out of a chair. His intense blue eyes, lodged in a small, bony face, flicked over David's casual attire, missing nothing. There was no clue as to what he thought. He wore a plain brown tie and his own hair was as short as a marine's.
'David took over as Chairman of Manflex yesterday,' Michael Leapman explained.
Churchward nodded as if he already knew. No words of regret about Manny's passing. 'And you want an update from me on Prodermolate. You know the background?'
'Let's assume I know nothing,' said David, who knew not very much.
'As you wish. The compound that we call PDM3 was discovered as long ago as 1975 by a team at Cornell. They
