Читать книгу A Memorable Murder - John Schlarbaum - Страница 11

As she drove one of the paper’s cars to Mantis Pharmaceuticals, a number of issues continued to entertain Jennifer’s thoughts:

Why was multi-millionaire Robert Barker standing outside The Nation Today’s studio and from whom was he hiding?

Who was the man in the grey Volvo parked on Elm Avenue? The getaway driver?

And where was the female shooter during this time?

These questions especially gnawed at her because if she’d kept working the crowd, she was certain she’d have learned more about the shooter’s actions—before and after the killing. As it was, she was simply assuming things from the few seconds of the show she’d watched in the company of her newspaper brethren. She was amazed she had witnessed it at all, as Good Morning America had a Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie interview scheduled for the same time. Unfortunately for Brangelina, she’d been outvoted by Levison and his political pals.

Pulling into a visitor parking spot, she took a deep breath and kept telling herself that this trip was more important than any old crime scene.

She walked through the giant glass doors of the main building and was greeted by a woman behind the reception desk.

“Good morning,” the woman said cheerfully. Her name tag read Kimberly.

“It is, isn’t it. How are you today?” Jennifer replied in an equally chipper tone.

“Very well, thank you. Do you have an appointment this morning?”

“Actually, I’m doing some research for a college course I’m taking at Shelton Academy. I’m looking into the manufacturing and testing of new medicines, drugs—that kind of thing.”

“And how can we help you?”

“Would there be anyone who could answer a few questions, so I can better understand how your industry works?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” Kimberly said hesitantly. “We usually don’t give out such sensitive information.”

“I think you’re getting me all wrong. I’m not doing an article on the industry—or even your company. I’m simply looking for someone to give me a very general overview how things are done. At no time would I ask specific questions about Mantis Pharmaceuticals. Because you see, between us, I think I’m way over my head in this course. I thought it would be easy to write, not realizing how technical everything is.”

Jennifer saw a look of sympathy come over Kimberly’s features.

“Just an overview, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Please have a seat.”

Soon a balding gentleman in his early 50s stepped off the elevator and strode confidently toward Jennifer.

“Jennifer? I’m Kenneth McIntyre from the public relations office.”

Jennifer stood and shook McIntyre’s hand, who continued to hold hers for a couple of beats longer than was necessary.

“Very nice to meet you,” she said, flashing him a winning smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

“No need to apologize. All that matters is you’re here now. Why don’t we go up to my office and I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”

If that’s the way you want to handle this, you dirty old man, then that’s the way it’ll be, Jennifer thought as she got in the elevator with Mr. PR.

For the following 45 minute period, Jennifer asked all the general pharmaceutical questions she could possibly think of. Unfortunately, her eager host filled in the other 40 minutes with what passed as extremely boring small talk about the industry. Knowing she had less than a half-hour before having to call Carson at the paper, she decided to turn on the charm and get down to business.

“What about new drugs? Does Mantis have any new and exciting drugs ready to hit the market?”

“Oh, we have a few on the back burner,” McIntyre said with pride, as he sat back in his chair.

“What’s the process for getting a new medication to the public?”

“It’s very complex.”

“Could you give me the basic steps involved?”

“Certainly,” he said smoothly. “The first step is to develop the drug. We have our own research and development program that is continuously testing new formulas.”

“Is it at this stage you test the drugs on mice or other animals?”

“After a time, yes.”

“When do you begin tests on humans?”

“This is where it gets complicated. You see, after initial testing proves successful, the next stage is often testing it on humans. To do so however, the company must first get approval from the federally run ethics committee.”

“The FDA?”

“No, the ethics committee is actually an offshoot of the Health and Welfare Committee.”

Federally run? The Health and Welfare Committee? What did these two things have in common? Jennifer asked herself.

Before this thought was fully formed, the answer came to her like a bolt of lightning.

Douglas Adams.

“Are you saying that before one of your new drugs gets approval, Mantis has to go before a committee headed by Senator Douglas Adams to get permission?”

McIntyre was taken aback by Jennifer’s sudden intensity and apparent knowledge of the Washington power structure.

Jennifer cursed herself for letting her reporter side become so aggressive.

“That’s correct,” McIntyre said reluctantly. “You’re from what university again?” he asked cautiously.

“It’s actually an academy—Shelton Academy, upstate.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s pretty small.”

She could tell this meeting, regardless of how interested McIntyre had appeared to be in her earlier, was rapidly deteriorating and drawing to a close.

“Do you have any more general questions about our industry?”

She smiled and tried to avoid eye contact as she looked for some way to continue the conversation, even though a connection between Barker and Adams had been made.

Throughout their conversation, she had been discreetly studying McIntyre’s affects. There was a large wall calendar to his right, and more interestingly, a date planner that lay open on his desk. After years of covering the police beat, and in some instances political affairs, she had become quite adept at reading documents upside down.

As a last-ditch effort, she focused on a strange word written in red ink. Figuring she had nothing left to lose, she attempted to turn on the girlish charm for one final kick at the can.

“What about Memoradium?” she asked casually, making direct eye contact with McIntyre.

“What was that?” McIntyre replied dumbfounded.

Jennifer knew she’d hit a raw nerve.

“Isn’t Memoradium scheduled for review in the near future?”

A combination of terror mixed with anger registered on McIntyre’s suddenly tired face.

He glanced at the planner in front of him and slammed it closed.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “And what do you know about Memoradium?”

“Only that it’s being hailed as the new wonder drug,” she bluffed, hoping she was on the right track.

“This is preposterous!” McIntyre exclaimed as he bolted from his chair.

He walked swiftly around the desk, in the process scaring the living daylights out of Jennifer. She jumped to her feet, not wanting to be seated submissively in the chair.

“Is it, Mr. McIntyre? It seems to me a lot of people are willing to go to great extremes to get this thing to the market as soon as possible.”

She continued to pray her instincts about this were not wrong.

Seeing McIntyre’s face redden, Jennifer produced her media identification card and stepped away from him.

“All I’m looking for is confirmation Memoradium exists and that it’s being prepped to go before Senator Adams’ committee.”

“Where did you get this information? This is top secret!”

“Either you tell me what I want to know or tomorrow’s Telegraph will be filled with innuendo about a secret drug, which may be connected to the threat against Senator Adams’ life on The Nation Today.”

“There was no attempt—” McIntyre began to argue, clearly appalled this reporter had information on the Memoradium project.

“That’s not the way my article will read, Mr. McIntyre.” Jennifer glanced at her watch: 10:20. “You’ve got 10 minutes before this thing goes into the stratosphere. I promise any information you tell me will remain between the two of us. I will not use the information unless there is a clear connection between what happened this morning and Senator Adams.”

“This is blackmail!” McIntyre cried out. “If I say nothing, you’ll write all about it. Yet if I do tell you about this project, you’ll have information that could severely harm this company if it becomes public.”

“Nine minutes, Mr. McIntyre.”

McIntyre paced the room trying to figure out his next move. Finally, he slumped into his chair, resigned to defeat, although nevertheless defiant.

“I will give you the bare essentials. Only a general overview.”

It’s a swing and it’s going, going, going. It’s out of here! Jennifer thought, a satisfied smile escaping her lips.

“Very well,” she said noncommittally. “I’m all ears.”

He finished with 30 seconds to spare.

“And no one else is currently testing this type of drug?”

McIntyre let out a sigh.

“There have been rumours—unsubstantiated thus far—that another company is developing a similar drug.”

“And that company would be?”

McIntyre hesitated and then looked at the steel determination in Jennifer’s eyes.

“Litchfield Industries,” he said with a sigh.

“Is it standard practice to develop the same drugs as a competitor? Isn’t it easier to make a knock-off after the original hits the market?”

“Not since the government imposed what is referred to as the Cloning Act. It states the company that develops any new drug has an automatic 10 year patent on it.”

“Meaning . . . if Mantis gets approval first, Litchfield would be left out in the cold.”

“That’s not the main reason in this case, however.”

“Then what—money?”

“I don’t think you realize the overall potential of Memoradium, Miss Malone. It is not another form of aspirin. This is a revolutionary drug that, from all indications, may reverse the effects of memory loss brought on by old age, Alzheimer’s, strokes, as well as certain brain damage caused in auto accidents or falls.”

The impact of the multiple uses of Memoradium began to flood Jennifer’s mind.

“This thing is going to be bigger than a cure for cancer, isn’t it?” she asked.

“When it comes to the brain and its capacity for memory, there are what is known as the three R’s: Registration, Retention and Recall,” McIntyre said. “With the advent of Memoradium, we are confident a fourth ‘R’ will be added—Reconfiguration.

“As I understand it, reasoning and intellectual ability depend upon pathways or routes among the cells of the brain. When a pathway becomes blocked, information from that cell cannot connect with other cells. So, for instance, you may be able to identify an object and explain its use, but aren’t able to come up with the object’s name,” McIntyre paused, then added, “This is because the name is contained in a cell assembly which for whatever reason, is functionally disconnected from other assemblies. In animal lab tests with Memoradium, we’ve been able to unblock those pathways that no longer send information to other cells.”

It took Jennifer several seconds for the drug’s ramifications to register.

“And if Memoradium works on humans, Mantis would presumably have a monopoly on the memory drug market forever.”

“And make billions of dollars of profit along the way.”

They sat and passively watched each other, no longer the adversaries they had been a short time ago.

“What are the odds of getting approval from Senator Adams’ ethics committee?” Jennifer inquired, breaking the silence.

“We assume our application will be rubber-stamped.”

“Don’t be too sure about that, Mr. McIntyre. The politics of pharmaceuticals became much more volatile this morning.”

“How so?” McIntyre asked intently.

After what he’d given up, Jennifer was tempted to tell McIntyre the boss was dead and his public relations job was about to become a lot more interesting. There would be no time to lounge around talking to pretty female students about the drug industry.

“I have a reporter’s instincts for these things, nothing more.” She could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second, yet gave him credit for not pursuing her statement further. “One final thing, Mr. McIntyre. Who owns this company?”

“Robert Barker. President and C.E.O. He’s the son of the founder and owns 90% of the stock.”

“And if he were to leave the company for some reason, who would take over control?”

“If you mean if he were to die today, I’m really not sure. I presume his wife might—Lynn Barker.”

“Does she own any stock?”

“I’m not sure. I’m guessing Robert would will his stocks to her. Again, I don’t know any specifics.”

A frown came over Jennifer’s face.

“Is there something wrong?” McIntyre asked nervously.

Jennifer ignored his question and glanced at her watch: 10:45.

“One last thing. Do you have a year-end company report I can take with me? You know—one the company hands out to the public.”

McIntyre hesitated.

“Why do you need one of those?”

“Reporter’s instincts. I just want to have a current copy that has factual figures in it. Nothing more, honest,” she lied again.

McIntyre reluctantly took a glossy report from the top drawer of a filing cabinet and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a brief smile.

Jennifer grabbed her coat off her chair, hoping against hope her recorder didn’t drop to the floor.

“I really do have to leave now, Mr. McIntyre.”

The look of foreboding manifested itself afresh on McIntyre’s face, as he grabbed Jennifer’s arm and turned her toward him. She could see perspiration beginning to form at his temples.

“You promise that the Memoradium project will not appear in any of your articles?” he implored.

“You have my word, Mr. McIntyre. I will hold this conversation in the strictest confidence,” Jennifer replied, gently pulling her arm out of his grip. “The only time you’ll see any mention of Memoradium is when it becomes public knowledge. However,” she added, “if I hear about it on the street and believe another news organization is going to print or televise some aspect of the project, I will go public with what I know. Does that sound fair?”

McIntyre still had a look of a man buying a used car from a shady salesman.

“I guess it will have to do, won’t it?”

Jennifer left McIntyre alone and made her way to the lobby where Kimberly met her warmly.

“Was Mr. McIntyre able to answer your questions?”

“All of them and then some,” Jennifer replied. “Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it.”

She exited the building and used her cell phone to call the paper.

“You’re late, Malone!” Mitch advised her.

“Have they ID’d the dead guy yet?”

“Not yet. Girard is running down a lead we picked off a police scanner. It seems there’s a lot of police activity on Whitecastle Boulevard in New Liston.”

“Get hold of him and say I’ll meet him there, okay?”

Jennifer terminated the connection as Carson excitedly asked, “What about your big lead?”

Driving to New Liston, Jennifer had a gut feeling that when the police arrived at Robert Barker’s house, Mrs. Barker wouldn’t be home. It was only a feeling but some days, especially days like this, instincts were all a reporter had to go on.

Then thinking of the implications of the wonder drug she’d just been told about, she mused to herself, “No matter what, this is going to be a memorable murder investigation,” and pressed the gas pedal down a bit further.