Alex Barclay - Blood Loss

And the combination pill they were so banking on clearly isn’t either.

‘It seems to me that Jonathan Meester hired Nolan Carr because he had managed to avoid any lawsuits with Cerxus, and had helped make billions of dollars for Lang,’ said Collier. ‘By getting hold of Cerxus, MeesterBrandt made billions more. Meester also got Nolan Carr in time for him to work his magic on Ellerol, especially as Meester knew there were issues with the drug’s claims.’

‘Jesus,’ said Ren.

‘This action group I was listening to is pushing for new legislation: that all clinical trial data, positive and negative, is available to the FDA and to the public, that more research is carried out on polypharmacy, that placebos are used in blind drug trials, etc., etc. And, with Mark Whaley’s evidence, MeesterBrandt would have been the poster child for all that was wrong in the industry. And there was no doubt it would have gone under.

‘I liked Mark Whaley a lot,’ said Collier. ‘He was a very modest man. He described himself to me as a “forty percenter” — it was an expression he and his family used: there are people out there who earn their degree or their post-grad by coming top of their class. But, you can still get a degree by scraping forty percent. So, if you’re in the hospital, for example, you want to hope that the doctor treating you isn’t a “forty percenter”.’

‘That’s a great expression,’ said Ren.

‘Mark Whaley told me he was a forty percenter. He told me that CFO was a great title, but ultimately, he wouldn’t describe himself as top of the class. It made him miss a few tricks over the years, but it also meant that Nolan Carr and Jonathan Meester underestimated him. He took a course in forensic accounting, on line. He used his wife’s home computer. He tracked down people who had worked for Lang in the past. This was a methodical project. He told me he treated it like a dissertation, and put more effort into it than anything he ever had done before. The wheels fell off when he got suspicious that they were on to him … you know the rest.’

‘Your party is not exactly known to shun big pharma dollars,’ said Ren. ‘Why the change of heart?’

‘Life,’ said Collier, ‘old age, a doctor trying to medicate my beautiful five-year-old grandson who lashed out because he was bullied for not being white …’ He paused. ‘My businesses are successful. But I don’t suffer from greed. That’s a disease I don’t have. From what I know, it appears to be an incurable one. I don’t need anyone’s money at this stage of my life. I need peace of mind.’

Ren walked back into the office. Colin, Robbie, and Cliff were huddled in a group in the middle of the floor. Cliff had a hand on Colin’s shoulder, and was leaning into him. They were laughing.

‘I’m telling Colin the rules of the game,’ said Cliff.

‘What game?’ said Ren.

Gary walked into the room. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘Laughter,’ said Ren.

‘Colin’s got some news,’ said Robbie.

Colin locked eyes with Ren as Cliff delivered the news: ‘Colin and Naomi are getting married.’

Oh. Wow. Way to hang on to your errant girlfriend.

Gary strode toward him. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, shaking Colin’s hand, patting him on the back.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. That’s all I’ve got. ‘When?’ And that’s an extra effort.

‘We haven’t set a date,’ said Colin.

‘How did you propose?’ That’s better.

‘Over dinner last night,’ said Colin.

‘Down on one knee?’ said Gary, smiling.

‘The whole nine,’ said Cliff.

‘Well, I’m happy for you both,’ said Gary. ‘She’s a good woman.’

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘Congratulations.’ She walked over to Colin, and gave him a brief hug. ‘She is a good woman.’

But a bad, bad girl.

Ren sat at her desk, and pulled her keyboard toward her. She wrote an email to Matt.

Subject: PsychoSis(ter)

Dear Matt

I, Orenda Bryce, solemnly ask you to solemnly swear, that if I ever have a psychotic episode, that you will allow the administration of antipsychotics only as a last resort, and if necessary, in the lowest dose possible, for the shortest time possible. Please find me a non-drugs-company-sponsored psychiatrist (I’m tentatively saying Dr Leonard Lone) who will treat my potential psychosis as a short-term blip in an otherwise flawless psychiatric history, and who will treat me with the proven group-therapy-style approach (see attached article). I hereby authorize you, the rest of the family/Gary/Janine/and Misty to take part.

Regards,

Orenda Bryce

Re: PsychoSis(ter)

Dear Ren

Who will I forward this to in case you murder me during aforementioned psychotic episode?

Re: PsychoSis(ter)

Dear Matt

No one. TRUST NO ONE.

Re: PsychoSis(ter)

Dear Ren

Then, say hi to Nurse Ratched …

I’ll be back to haunt you. She’ll never believe the visions are real.

Re: PsychoSis(ter)

Dear Matt

You are sick.

Re: PsychoSis(ter)

Your nephew is crying.

Re: PsychoSis(ter)

Because he misses me. Give him giant hugs. XXXX

Ren looked around. Cliff and Robbie had left for Gaffney’s. Colin had gone into the hallway to take a call. Gary had gone to his office to grab his coat. He stuck his head back in.

‘Are you joining us for the celebration, Ren?’

‘I don’t know …’ said Ren.

Gary walked over. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m good …’ said Ren. ‘Just … this case …’ She shook her head.

Colin walked back into the office while she was talking.

‘Cameron Temple may or may not have ended up being a rapist,’ said Ren. ‘We’ll never know. But that first drawing definitely shows that he saw, or he was told, that his only options were hospital or drugs. You should read the questions on the trial. How can anyone expect a teenage boy to know the difference between regular teenage angst or anger, whatever, and actual psychosis?’ said Ren. ‘His face will be everywhere, and all people will see is a rapist. He could have been a famous artist or sculptor, or … anything. We’ll never know.’

Gary nodded. He zipped up his jacket. ‘OK, Ren — time to give yourself a break. I’ll see you in Gaffney’s.’

‘Is that an order?’ said Ren.

‘I don’t think anyone needs to order you to a bar,’ said Gary.

Ren smiled.

Gary left.

Colin was shutting down his computer.

‘You’re obsessed with analyzing people, and relationships, and all kinds of other people’s business,’ said Colin.

Eh, hello? ‘So you keep saying,’ said Ren. ‘Probably because it makes you deeply uncomfortable on a personal level.’

‘I could care less,’ said Colin.

‘You think you could care less,’ said Ren.

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ said Colin.

Back away. Back away. Actually, no. Don’t back away. Do it. Now.

‘You’ve always been freaked out by me analyzing people’s personality or motives, or whatever. And now I know why.’

‘I’m not freaked out. I told you. I could care less.’

‘Yeah, I get it,’ said Ren. ‘I get it. But it’s not true.’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ said Colin.

Ren stared at him . I have spent three years giving you the benefit of the doubt. I’ve wasted time feeling sorry for you …

‘Not any more,’ said Ren.

‘What do you mean “not any more”?’ said Colin. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Nothing,’ said Ren. She got up, and grabbed her bag. ‘I’m going home.’