Gerald Davis: A Murder Too Personal

“I kinda guessed that.”

“Well, anyway, I believe…no, I know that the trials were not valid and reliable. The study design was flawed and, to make matters worse, the data were doctored.”

“How do you know this?”

Up to this point, he hadn’t looked me in the eye once. But now he did. For the briefest split-second.

“Mr. Chisolm had all the technicians use just one kind of blue Bic ball-point pen. All the records were kept with this one specific kind of pen. And I personally witnessed Mr. Chisolm change the results on several occasions. I was familiar with the parameters of the study and the control group and I know for a fact that the data and the results are different. What I don’t know is whether the changes were material enough to get us the approval.”

“How significant are the changes?”

He brushed back his forelock with his hand and moved to the edge of his chair. “Well, you see, the clinicals are supposed to show that the drug is safe and efficacious. We have a problem in both areas. There have been unfortunate side effects and even three fatalities. Now, that’s still within acceptable limits but it appears that the fatalities were ascribed to other causes rather than to the drug.”

“Would that be enough to stop approval?” I asked.

“Not in and of itself. But it raises serious questions and would require additional testing. And that, of course, would cost more money.”

“Is that serious?”

He nodded. “You bet it is. We’re at the end of the line. Our venture capitalists have said they’re going to pull the plug. They told us they’ve sunk in too much money already and they weren’t going to invest any more. This was our last chance.”

“Would it be a problem if you didn’t get the approval now?”

He looked at me as if I’d asked, would it be a problem if the sun didn’t rise tomorrow.

“It would mean the end of the company and all the years we’d put into it.” He fidgeted in his seat and cast his eyes down.

I took my feet off the desk and sat up. “OK. What can I do?”

“I can’t in good conscience let a flawed drug onto the market without verifiable clinicals. Too many people’s lives are at risk.”

“Go on,” I said.

“Honestly I’m afraid to do anything myself. I’m not a brave person. But I believe in doing the correct thing. You can see I’m in a terrible dilemma. I want to blow the whistle but…”

I finished his sentence. “You’re scared? You want me to do it for you?”

He nodded wordlessly.

“OK,” I said. “Your fairy godmother just granted your wish. But first I’m going to ask you some questions. And I need some sharp answers.”

He sighed with relief. “I’ll tell you whatever I can.”

“Did you know a woman named Alicia Rogan?”

“Yes. She called me a few months ago. Early April, I think it was. Said she was doing some research on Insignia and could I assist her. At first, I thought this could be the answer. She would be the conduit for me to get the clinicals out to the proper authorities. I gave her copies of as much of the flawed documentation as I could. But that’s where it ended.”

This was starting to smell most foul. “What do you mean?” I asked.

Hobley spread his hands helplessly. “She didn’t do anything with the information.”

That’s what you think, buddy boy. This amateur was playing a game and he didn’t even know what game he was playing or how high the stakes were.

“I never could reach her after that. She never returned my calls. It was as if she used me and then discarded me. I was terribly discouraged after that.”

“Did you notice any changes in Chisolm after you gave Alicia the documents?”

He shook his head. “Nothing special that I could point to…except maybe…he became even more intense than before…more determined.”

“More determined to do what?”

“To get the FDA approval.”

I sat back. So Alicia had been a busy beaver. Jergens wasn’t the only one she’d been blackmailing.

“What do you think she did with the copies you gave her?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Beats me. As far as I know, she never wrote that research report.”

You bet your sweet ass, buddy boy. She was getting a lot more mileage out of those papers than just a fat Wall Street paycheck.

I took my feet off the desk and leaned forward in my chair. “Here’s what I want you to do,” I said. “Is there a back entrance to the place where you keep the clinicals?”

He looked at me again briefly. “Yes, there is. The files are kept in a room next to the lab.”

“Can you leave that door unlocked?”

“Yes.”

“Is there an alarm?” I said.

He nodded. “Yes, but I can turn it off.”

“Good. Now how do I get over the fence?”

He thought for a minute. “There’s a gate on the north side. No one ever uses it, though. I think I can leave it unlatched for you.”

I got up. “Outstanding, Eric. We’re going to be excellent partners in crime.”

Hobley was as good as his word. The north gate was left unlocked. I pushed on it and it swung open with a little effort and a loud squeak. The noise was almost as loud as the chorus of the crickets. Fortunately, their chirping would have drowned out any sound quieter than a freight train chugging up a forty-five degree grade.

Before I headed for the buildings I broke the catch of the lock with the butt of my gun to make it look like a forced entry. There was no use pointing an incriminating finger any more than necessary. Nobody could tell who was going to catch the flak for this unorthodox entry. Chisolm was going to be pissing in his pants when he learned about this surgical removal.

The lights were on in the two low-slung buildings, but otherwise the night was black as hell and twice as forbidding.

I dropped to a crouch and crossed twenty meters of lawn to the back of the nearest building. That was where the offices were. I flattened myself against the building with my back to the brick wall. In front of me, about fifteen meters away, at the edge of the parking lot was a white security van. The lettering on the side of the van was too indistinct to make out. Next to the van was Chisolm’s fool car, the Hummer. So Chisolm was working late. Either he was doing some honest productive work or he was doctoring up some more phony clinical trial results.

The windows behind me were above eye-level, so I couldn’t get a look inside the building. There was no way of telling if there was a batallion inside or just a lone security guard. Hobley had given me some intelligence, but his information might have been inaccurate or obsolete. I hated to go blind into a situation like this.

It was another twenty meters to the second building. I made my way over in a crouch. Both buildings were two stories. This one housed the labs. Hobley had described the emergency exit. I ran my hand along the brick wall until I found it, maybe five meters down on the far side. It was a solid steel door that opened outward. I put the heels of both hands against the door. It was cold to the touch in spite of the warm evening air.

I listened. There wasn’t a sound except the crickets. I couldn’t see a damn thing for the blackness and I didn’t want to use a flashlight unless I had to.

The door didn’t have anything to grab on to. I ran my hands over the entire surface. Then, halfway down on the left-hand side, a piece of cardboard stuck out an inch. That was where Hobley had taped over the lock. I pulled the piece of cardboard slowly until I could get a couple of fingers inside the door. This was the moment of truth when the alarm would go off.

Nothing.

I pulled the door open a crack until I could see the light inside.