Richard Mabry - Lethal Remedy

In the faculty parking garage,John Ramsey beeped his car unlocked and was about to climb in when he heard someone call, "John, wait up." "Mark? Where are you?" Mark Wilcox's head appeared over the roof of a nearby vehicle. "Glad I caught you. I think we need to talk." "You're right," John said. "I got so wound up in this Jandramycin thing, I almost forgot that I was being sued." "Then it's a good thing you have a lawyer to protect your interest." Mark gestured to John's Toyota. "I'm parked down in the visitors' lot. Can we climb in here and talk for a bit?" Once they were settled, John reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. "Here it is. I didn't understand all the legal language, but it was pretty clear that I was being sued, along with just about everybody else in this zip code." Mark scanned the first few pages and nodded. "I'll go over this in detail tomorrow, but as I see it, there are several strategies we can employ." "You mean, other than telling these people they're idiots for bringing this suit in the first place?

All I did was offer a helping hand to a woman who was in distress. For goodness' sake, I was just being a good Samaritan." "Interestingly enough, that's one of the strategies I was going to mention. We could base your defense on the Good Samaritan Law." "Would what I did qualify?" "Probably, but I need to research it more. Why don't you try to put this out of your mind for now?" John grimaced. "Oh, it probably doesn't matter anyway. If they win a judgment, they can just take it out of the proceeds of my life insurance." "That's not funny. There's absolutely nothing here that's worth considering taking your own life." "I don't have to do that. Some druggie who dropped a dirty syringe into the trash can in one of our treatment rooms will probably do it for me." He reached into his pocket, held up two prescription bottles, and shook them to rattle the pills inside. "Remember when I excused myself from the meeting to take my medicine?" "Yes."

"Antiretrovirals. I'm on post-exposure prophylaxis for HIV. And the way things have gone lately, I don't think there's a way in the world I can avoid it."

Bob Wolfe looked around Patel's empty office and tried to relax, but his gut continued to churn. He wiped his palms on the handkerchief balled in his hand. Don't let them see you sweat, they say. Well, that wasn't so easy right now. The secretary's call had been terse: "Dr.

Patel wants to see you in his office. He'll expect you in five minutes." There'd been no explanation of the summons then, and none when he showed up. Just "Go in, and close the door behind you." Now Wolfe squirmed in one of the leather visitor's chairs. This must be how a prisoner on death row feels, waiting for the footsteps of the warden. Stop worrying. This is probably nothing. But deep down, Wolfe knew what this was about. It was about Jandramycin. Specifically, it was probably about that nosy doctor who'd called with her ridiculous stories about late complications. He thought he'd stonewalled her pretty well, but maybe Patel had gotten wind of that call. And if he did, there were going to be questions asked. And the answers had better be the right ones. "Bob, thanks for coming." Wolfe jumped to his feet and turned to see his boss stride into the office, followed by Steve Lindberg and a man who looked vaguely familiar, but whose name danced at the edge of his memory. "Of course," Wolfe said. Patel gestured Wolfe back into his chair. Lindberg repeated the move Wolfe had seen before, pulling a visitor's chair to the side of Patel's desk and settling in as though he were an impartial observer in any conflict that might take place. "I'm Max Berman, chief counsel for Jandra Pharma. " The third man shook Wolfe's hand, three quick pumps and release, a politician's handshake. Thousand-dollar suit, hundred-dollar haircut, soft hands with manicured nails. Now Wolfe remembered he'd met Berman once before. He hadn't liked him then, and had a feeling that wasn't going to change. Unlike Lindberg, Max took the chair beside Wolfe. Did that mean he was an ally? No, more likely it was simply a matter of being in position to watch more closely.

Well, watch away, Counselor. I'm ready for you. "I understand you had a call from a Dr. Sara Miles," Patel said. He leaned forward, his hands flat on his desk. "Why don't you tell us about it?" "How did you know about that?" Wolfe asked. "Two reasons. After she talked with you, she tried to get through to me. Fortunately, my administrative assistant is well trained and very capable of fending offunwanted phone calls. It seems that I'm out of the country on company business, and my return date is uncertain at this time." Wolfe knew Patel wanted him to ask what the second reason was, but he sat in silence. We'll see who blinks first. After a moment, Patel did. "As for the other reason, I knew about the phone call while you were still talking with her." He waited like a child eager to explain the magic trick he'd learned. Wolfe raised his eyebrows, and that was enough for Patel to continue: "I know everything that goes on in this company. Outside calls are monitored and if the content is something that should come to my attention, I learn about it immediately." Berman spoke for the first time, and now it was fairly obvious why the man was a participant in this meeting. "In case you're wondering, this is all perfectly legal. Like most people, you didn't read your employment agreement carefully. If you had, you'd know that monitoring is carried out on a day-to-day basis. When you signed, you gave the CEO and his designees the authority to monitor telephone, e-mail, and written communications as necessary to protect the company." "No problem. If you or one of your 'designees'… " Wolfe set the word offwith air quotes. "If they monitored my conversation, you know that Dr. Miles got nothing from me." "Probably true," Patel said. "But the very fact that she called raises a question. She voiced the concern that treatment with Jandramycin may lead to late complications. Is there any truth in that?" The group remained silent. Patel leaned forward and gripped the edge of his desk hard enough to blanch his knuckles.

"Our NDA is moving forward as we speak, and I might add, at great cost to this company. We've put pressure on some of our friends on Capitol Hill, called in every possible favor, and… Well, I won't go into detail." He relaxed back into his chair and began to swivel back and forth. "Jandramycin must be brought to market ASAP. We can't have any snags now." Wolfe decided that there was no question there, so he gave a quick nod and waited for Patel to make his point. This meeting was for a reason, and Patel just now seemed to be getting there. "David, you know we're all on the same page here." Lindberg's comment was unnecessary, but apparently the man couldn't sit through a meeting for longer than five minutes without saying something. Patel raked the two men sitting nearest him with a gaze that could cut glass. "I've asked Max to meet with us for a very specific reason. Max?" Berman rose and cleared his throat. Wolfe and Lindberg turned slightly in their chairs. The attorney addressed them both: "Let me explain. Dr. Miles brought up a scenario that could be very problematic for Jandra Pharmaceuticals. If such side effects exist, it's imperative that we know of them. And if they do not exist, it's equally important that we are firm and forthright in our denial of any such charges. So the question everyone in this room needs to answer is this: Are you prepared to state that you are unaware of any side effects from Jandramycin such as the ones mentioned by Dr. Miles?" Lindberg almost leaped to his feet. "Absolutely. I'm unaware of any such side effects as Dr. Miles mentioned." "Nor do you have knowledge of any, and will so state should the occasion arise?" Berman said. "Correct," Lindberg said. Berman looked pointedly at Wolfe. Wolfe nodded, but that wasn't enough for Berman. "Please answer aloud." He smothered a smile.