leave. I was rooted to my chair; I couldn't even dash out of the cafe to a news-stand to get something else to read. Then I'd never know whether I'd missed her or not.
Another coffee, decaf this time. And an organic Danish. My stomach needed something for the coffee to bite into.
She wasn't coming, but I couldn't accept that. Everything I had done over the last month, the risks I had taken, the trouble I had caused, had all been with the intention of winning Lisa back. But what if she didn't want to be won back? Lisa was a strong-minded woman. What if I couldn't convince her? Even if I showed her that I hadn't killed her father, that she was right all along about BioOne, what if even then she didn't come back to me?
I couldn't accept that. I stayed put, as though remaining in that cafe was the only thing left I could do.
It started to rain. Big San Franciscan drops of water, that swiftly turned the street into a landscape of streams and lakes. Umbrellas rose outside, the windows fugged up, cars swished water at dancing pedestrians.
The cafe was beginning to fill with the lunch crowd. The waiters looked as if they were about to throw me out, so I ordered a grilled vegetable sandwich.
At two o'clock, I gave up. I barged out into the waterlogged street, raindrops cooling my overheated skin, and splattering my hair on my scalp. I didn't know where I was walking.
'Simon!' I almost didn't hear it, didn't believe it. 'Simon!'
I turned. It was Lisa running towards me, her bag swinging in the rain.
She stopped in front of me, panting. I tried a smile. She returned it quickly, nervously. Water dripped off her nose and chin.
'Thank God you waited. It's been hours. I thought you'd go back to Boston.'
I shrugged. I allowed myself to smile again.
Lisa glanced up at the rain. 'Let's go inside.' She looked back towards the cafe.
'I can't go back in there,' I said. I noticed a scruffy diner further down the street. 'How about that?'
She grimaced. 'OK. Actually, I'm starving.'
She ordered a hamburger; I was relieved to get away with nothing.
We sat in silence as we waited for the food. There was so much to say. So much could yet go wrong. For now I was just pleased to be with her.
'I read those files,' she said at last.
And?'
And I'm almost certain that neuroxil-5 causes strokes in some patients if used over a six month period or longer.'
At first I felt a wave of relief. Then I remembered the thousand or so patients who were taking the drug in the Phase Three trial. Including Aunt Zoe.
'Almost sure?'
'The statistics are difficult. I didn't have time to go through the data thoroughly, but my gut feeling is that when the analysis is done it'll show the drug is dangerous.'
'Why hasn't BioOne discovered that yet?'
'Good question,' she said. 'It's not that easy in an Alzheimer's trial. The patients are old, and a number of them will die anyway. It looks like the incidence of strokes doesn't increase until at least six months after the patients start to take the drug, possibly longer.'
Aunt Zoe had been taking it for seven months.'
Lisa nodded. 'Poor Aunt Zoe. I'll really miss her. She was a great woman. I just wish they'd listened to me.'
'I don't think Carl will ever forgive himself.'
'Is there no hope?'
I shook my head. 'Not according to Carl.'
We were both quiet for a few moments, thinking of Zoe.
'Didn't Enever pick any of this up?' I said.
'Nowhere does he mention the problem directly. But from his actions, I'd say he began to notice that the stroke adverse events were getting out of line. He might have thought this was just a blip. But he persuaded some clinicians to reclassify their patients as suffering from mini strokes rather than Alzheimer's, then removed the strokes from the statistics.'
'So he knowingly fiddled the figures?'
'I wouldn't say that, exactly. He may have genuinely believed the patients were misdiagnosed, or he may have convinced himself. I can't tell.'
'Hm. Anything from Catarro?'
'Yes. There were some e-mails about the two stroke deaths. Enever suggested the patients might have suffered from mini strokes. There's nothing from Catarro about the autopsies.'
'They must have spoken on the phone,' I said. 'But the autopsy records should be easy to get.'
Lisa's hamburger arrived, and she munched on it nervously.
'You were right,' I said.
'Yes,' she replied. She gave me a small smile. 'Thank you for proving it.'
'You read in my note how Dr Catarro spoke to your father just before he died,' I said quietly.
Lisa nodded and bit her lip.
'I didn't kill him,' I said.
She looked down. 'I didn't want to meet you here, Simon. But you were right. This neuroxil-5 stuff is important. What I don't want to do is talk about us, OK?'
I sighed. 'How have you been feeling since you came out here?'
'Better,' said Lisa. 'I mean, I still feel awful about Dad. And I'm angry about Boston Peptides, and about you, and…' she paused. 'Sorry. We weren't going to talk about us. But the world doesn't seem quite as black as it did. Out here, I can see a new life. Some days, I almost feel human. It was the right thing to do.'
'Don't you miss me?' I asked, and then immediately regretted it.
She bit her lip, and ignored the question.
'Sorry. Can I ask you something else?'
'Maybe,' she mumbled, eyes lowered.
'Has Kelly spoken to you about the BP 56 trials?'
Lisa shook her head, but I had caught her interest.
'They're going well apart from one thing. Apparently, the drug causes depression in some of the volunteers who are taking it. It can reduce the levels of serotonin in the brain.' Now I had all her attention. 'When did you start taking it?'
'You remember. About a week after Dad died. We had all the animal data in, but we couldn't start giving the drug to volunteers until it had all been processed. We just didn't have the time to wait that long, so I started taking it myself to get an early indication of any side-effects.'
'And when did you stop? When you came out here?'
'Yes. When I was fired from Boston Peptides there didn't seem much point any more.'
I wanted to ask her again why she had been so stupid as to take an untested drug herself. But I didn't. I stayed quiet.
She put her head in her hands. 'That explains a lot. No wonder I felt so bad. Why didn't I realize that was what was happening?'
'There was a lot else going on,' I said.
'I guess you're right,' Lisa was shaking her head. 'How stupid! I mean, I was keeping a diary of how I felt, recording the tiniest change in my bowel movements. And there was I, feeling more miserable than I've ever felt in my life, and I didn't even notice it.'
'You weren't exactly in a position to think clearly.'
'I guess I wasn't.'
And now you've stopped taking it. Maybe that's why you feel better now?'
She looked up thoughtfully. 'Maybe.'
'Now can I tell you why I didn't kill your father?' I said quietly.
'Simon, I said-'
