future of Vector, of Beacon-Kagan, the lives we save every day and will continue to save. You'd let one woman bring down the whole enterprise?'
'If she was right. Yes.'
'Then why didn't you? You were in a position to know, Dolan. But you didn't want to. Instead you slurped at the teat all these years.'
'Not anymore.'
'Please. You may be naive, but you're not a fool. You're not going to walk away from Vector, from your work. You're emotional right now, sure. But you'll calm down, see the road ahead. We'll work this out.'
Dolan summoned a reserve of strength he never knew he had. 'No, sir, we won't. I'm leaving. Now.'
'You'll be killed.' Dean's eyes pulled to the guard who had reappeared at the door, and Dolan felt a coldness run through his veins. His father might have been talking about Walker Jameson, but then again he might not have. Keeping his eyes on Dean, Dolan backed up into the hall. Immediately another guard appeared, flanking him. He tried to turn toward the foyer but was blocked, the men filling the breadth of the hall.
'Get the hell out of my way!'
But they remained, maddeningly mute, eyes downturned in a meretricious display of deference. Dolan moved back toward his room, and they permitted him, matching him when he jogged, safeguarding wrong turns, guiding him, a rat through a rigged labyrinth. He burst into the game room and slammed the door behind him, locking it.
He doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing deeply to stave off a panic attack. Finally he straightened. He picked up the telephone, pressed the receiver to his ear until the dial tone started bleating. What would he say? He had no proof, no hard data.
Setting the phone down, he pushed open the door to Chase's room. On the desk the termini of numerous computer cables shaped the blank space where the laptop had been. Dean must have had it removed in the past hour while Dolan was with the deputies. Under the circumstances the computer's absence struck Dolan as vaguely grotesque, an organ ripped free of its connective tissue. Dean had been at this game too long; he could think five moves ahead. Dolan didn't stand a chance.
He stared at the faint indentation in Chase's pillow, a remnant of his brother's final night of sleep. He tried to personalize his sense of loss, but it had little to do with Chaisson. It was more a diffuse sadness that his life and their brotherhood had amounted to nothing more than this.
A series of chirps came from the closet, disrupting Dolan's thoughts. He crossed and opened the door but was greeted with silence. After about thirty seconds, the sound repeated. He sourced it to a cell phone weighing down the pocket of Chase's favored leather jacket along with a set of keys. Dolan listened to the waiting message, but it was from a woman (screechy, loquacious, inebriated) berating Chase for not calling her.
He sat on the bed, clicking through the saved numbers. A lot of initials, in case Chase's fiancee got ahold of it. He came upon an unnamed entry-22498352. A string of random digits, clearly not a phone number.
Vector's computer log-in security codes were eight digits long.
Dolan stared at the numbers, feeling his heartbeat grow louder until he sensed it pulsing at his eardrums. With renewed purpose he rose, sliding on Chase's jacket and stuffing the phone in his pocket. On his way out, he tapped the pillow, disintegrating the hollow where Chase's head last rested.
He jogged around the pool table, undid the various locks on the bulletproof window overlooking the backyard, and climbed out into the night. A guard stirred at his station near the rear gate and scanned the dark house. Dolan flattened against the second-story lattice until the guard turned back to the street. He'd require a more elaborate exit than the down-and-out he'd planned on. Honeysuckle scraping his face, he struggled his way to the next room.
The bathroom window was cracked. He clung to the lattice beside it, his body starting to shake from exertion. Supporting himself by two tenuous toeholds and one aching arm, he slid the pane open. He pulled himself through and slipped out into the hall. Timing his dodges through the halls so as to miss the patrolling security guards, he eased out one of the service entrances. Chase's G-Wagen was parked outside the garages where he'd last left it.
Dolan flew through the remote-operated rear gate, offering a middle finger to the surprised security guard.
Chapter 75
Freed fussed at a contraption that looked like something out of a science-fiction movie; finally it clanked and spit out a dribble of espresso.
'Okay,' Tim said, 'walk us through the rationale.'
Freed worked the knobs of the machine. 'To my thinking, Lentidra's a contingency plan. No, a Plan B. They didn't back-burner it-it's ready to go. It's a holdback, a hostage drug for when the whistle blows or the pressure comes or whatever. If no nosy parent or probing journalist sniffs out its true effectiveness, it languishes in the vault. But if the heat of inquiry rises or a competitor puts a model in the pipeline that competes with Xedral, Vector has Lentidra poised to roll out. They claim they fixed it and unveil it as the new and improved lifesaver. The report indicates as much-they'll release it when it's in their financial interest to do so. That way they maximize profits on both products.'
'So this isn't about undisclosed risks,' Bear said. 'It's not Xedral that's the problem.'
'Right. It's not like Xedral kills anyone. It just doesn't save them as well. They would've died anyway. It's about Xedral's numbers versus Lentidra's. Get a jury of American dipshits to understand that bookkeeping wrinkle.'
'So why would Tess drop Sam from the Xedral trial?' Bear asked. 'I mean, unless she had Lentidra in hand?'
'If it was your kid, would you want him to have an eighty-six percent chance of living-or ninety-five?'
'But it's not like she knew she could get him Lentidra in any kind of time frame,' Tim said. 'For all she knew, Xedral was her only bet. Her decision doesn't make sense.'
Freed shrugged. 'I don't have an answer for you.' He filled four petite mugs, double shots all the way around. One he carried back to the bedroom, Bear almost falling over to see through the opened door.
When Freed returned, Tim gestured at the report pages, still spread across the table like a feast. 'This was enough to get Tess killed?'
'This in combination with her testimony, Sam's face on the news, former company mascot, all that stuff. It would've been enough to put a major crimp in the Kagan boys' plans on the eve of an IPO.'
Tim finally popped the million-dollar question: 'Is there anything here we can take to the U.S. Attorney's?'
'If you want to get laughed at. To prosecute Big Pharma, you need not just a smoking gun but footage of the gun being fired.'
'If we got that footage, would the prosecution go federal or state?'
Freed wrinkled his mouth thoughtfully. 'A big multinational corporation like this, I'd say the AUSA would probably team up with the SEC and hook it federal, like with Enron. Could be a career maker for someone. Plus, Vector was started with seed money Dolan acquired from NIH-not much, but if a nickel comes out of that pot, it carries with it a whole legal rubric of terms and conditions available for violation. If they buried a more effective drug that could've saved tens of thousands of lives, they're tangled up in all sorts of illegalities.' He sipped his espresso. 'But without hard data backing your case, all you have are contingency scenarios'-he gestured with his cup to the table-'and companies run those all the time. Dean Kagan's army of attorneys-and lobbyists-will have this respun before the AUSA returns our call.'
'So where would the hard data be?'
'Well, you said Dean Kagan had a paper shredder working overtime at the house. Let's assume he followed similar protocol at the office and threw all key printed evidence in the circular file. What remains-for future corporate number crunching-are probably digital files hidden behind ten firewalls. But you know what a bitch it is getting warrants for corporate computers and getting to those computers before they've been processed in-house.
