explained iPS USA to Vinnie, he’d gone into great detail about the unbelievable promise of stem cells and the regrettable entanglement that the promising science and fledgling industry had encountered with the highly emotional abortion issue. He then explained how induced stem cells skirted the issue. Aware of Vinnie’s innate intelligence, Michael had also explained the patent issues involving stem cells and how important it would be to control the big patents. It was Vinnie who finally broke the silence.
“And it’s this iPS cell patent that’s going to be the mother of all patents?”
“That’s what Ben Corey believes, and the guy’s a genius who wants to control regenerative medicine.”
“And we’ll be right there with him,” Vinnie proclaimed.
“Right there,” Michael agreed.
Vinnie picked up his glass of wine and held it out to the others. He had a wry smile on his face. “I never knew that it was health care where all the real money was. First hospitals and now biotech. I love it.”
They all clinked classes and drank.
Vinnie turned to Saboru. “I told you this guy was great,” he said, nodding toward Michael.
“Thank you!” Saboru said several times, nodding first toward Michael and then toward Vinnie.
“Now I want to bring up another subject,” Michael said, putting down his wineglass and moving forward on his seat as if he was about to tell a secret. “I met with Dr. Corey just this morning. With the new contract signed, the market value of the company will soar. There’s no telling what its value will be. On top of that, this morning he confided in me that there is a new company that controls a patent for a process that will speed up the production efficiency of making induced stem cells. He’s interested in either acquiring the company or, at the very least, exclusively licensing its intellectual property. The question is, do either of you want to acquire more equity before the IPO? If so, this would be the time.”
There were questions from both Vinnie and Saboru, which Michael fielded, cleverly honing his client’s interest so that if Ben wanted or needed more equity, it would be immediately available.
After an interruption with the waiter coming to take their lunch orders, Michael then broached the third, last, and most sensitive subject on his agenda—namely, Ben’s interest in distancing iPS USA from their respective organizations. When he finished and fell silent, he could sense a change in mood. Clearly both Vinnie and Saboru were not pleased, feeling blindsided by the issue’s even being broached.
“It’s rather late for Dr. Corey to feel he’s not interested in our help,” Saboru said. It was Saboru who’d engineered the theft of the lab books from Kyoto University and getting Satoshi and his family from Japan through Honolulu to New York City, the same route he used for drugs and child porn.
“I agree,” Vinnie said in that particularly calm voice that Michael feared and that all too often presaged a temper tantrum of one sort or another.
“There is no disrespect intended here,” Michael quickly added. “It is only something that Dr. Corey feels will be in the best interest of the company if and when the company goes public. If such association were to suggest itself during any due diligence, the company would probably have to cancel the IPO to avoid a full SEC investigation.”
“He knows that the Lucia holdings are held secure under a series of shell companies, does he not?” Vinnie questioned.
“Of course he does,” Michael added quickly to defuse the situation, “and he’s tremendously thankful for what you gentlemen have done for the company. He even mentioned that some significant additional equity would be involved to recognize your special contributions if it comes to that.”
At that point Michael felt as if he’d been saved, as several waiters burst from the kitchen with a wide variety of steaming pastas for the first course. Relieved, Michael sat back and took in a deep breath. From his perspective the downside of dealing with criminal organizations is that one always felt as if he was standing on the edge of a precipice.
9
MARCH 25, 2010
THURSDAY, 1:05 p.m.
Louie Barbera took the chair that had just been vacated at the very end of the visiting room at the Rikers Island visitors center. He’d been there about a half-dozen times over the years to visit Paulie Cerino, the capo he’d replaced when Paulie had been sent to prison more than a decade previously. Louie had visited mostly to ask specific questions about specific people or events, since it was difficult to take over someone else’s operation, especially when that person was expected to return. Like in all businesses, even illegal ones, consistency was important.
Louie’s visits to Paulie had grown less frequent over the years, as Louie became more familiar with Queens and its characters and specific challenges. But now Louie was at a loss. He had no idea what to do about the situation with Hideki Shimoda, and especially Vinnie Dominick, Paulie’s old archrival. It was like a balancing game over a cauldron of molten lava. One slip and everybody might fall in.
Louie used a tissue and some Purell to wipe off the telephone handset, which was still warm from the previous user. Paulie had yet to arrive. Louie’s plan was simple: give Paulie the details, get Paulie’s response, then get the hell out. Although Rikers Island was the biggest and busiest penal institution in the world, the place was also notorious for its run-down condition. Louie shivered at the thought of staying in the place overnight, much less for more than a decade.
Glancing to his right, Louie looked at the long line of other visitors, most of whom appeared to be women talking to husbands. Many appeared as if they were barely making ends meet, though some tried to dress up. There were guards on both sides of the glass with glazed eyes and bored expressions. Louie looked at his watch. It was after two, and he already wanted to leave. He promised himself he’d never come back to this place.
At that moment he caught sight of Paulie and started. The last time he’d seen him, Paulie had looked much the same as always, plus the scars he’d suffered after someone had thrown acid in his face a year or so before he had been imprisoned. He’d always been heavy and unconcerned about his appearance. Now he was comparatively skinny, and his prison outfit hung on him like an oversized shirt on a metal hanger.
As Paulie took his seat on the other side of the glass, Louie had to briefly look away. He’d forgotten about Paulie’s double corneal transplants, where the clear area of his eyes contrasted so sharply with the scarred area as to be startling.
Controlling himself, Louie picked up the telephone and raised his eyes to Paulie even though it was like looking down a couple of gun barrels. After a bit of chitchat, Louie said, “Paulie, you look different, like you lost some weight.”
“I am different,” Paulie agreed wistfully if not mystically. “I’ve found the Lord.”
The question took Louie by surprise. Maybe Paulie wasn’t quite as overwhelmed by his newfound Christianity. Maybe he could still offer some advice.
“Strange you should ask, because I was the problem with Vinnie Dominick and most of the others getting off, and it’s related to how they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar.”
“I don’t follow,” Paulie admitted with interest.
“I found out Vinnie had himself a yacht for all sorts of nasty work-related entertaining. I had my guys place a GPS on the boat. When I knew Vinnie and company were up to no good, I gave the password and user name to Lou Soldano so he could nab them, which he did.”
“Lou!” Paulie exclaimed. “How is the old bastard?”
“As much of a bastard as always. Why do you ask?”
