Arthur Hailey - Strong Medicine

Sam had asked, "Could it really be that long-a year?" "Easily, and more. Mace has only to ask for a repeat of-" Lord stopped as Sam waved him to silence, canceling an unnecessary question, remembering how Mace had delayed Staidpace for longer than a year. "There was a time," Sam reminded the research director, "when you talked of doing what you're proposing without involving me.”

"I know I did," Lord said, "but then you insisted on knowing where that two thousand dollars went, and after that I changed my

258 mind. I'll be taking a risk and I don't see why I should take it alone. I'll still handle the frontline attack, the confrontation with Mace. But I want you to know about it, and approve.”

"You're not suggesting we have anything in writing?" Lord shook his head negatively.”That's another chance I'll take. If it came to a showdown, you could deny this conversation ever happened.”

It was then Sam realized that what Vince really wanted was not to be lonely, not to be the only one to know what he was going to do. Sam understood that. Loneliness was something else you experienced at the cop, or near the top, and Vince was simply sharing his. "All right," Sam said.”Much as I dislike myself for it, I approve. Go ahead. Do what we have to.”

He added facetiously, "I assume you're not wired for sound.”

"If I were," Lord answered, "I'd incriminate myself as well as YOU.”

When the research director was on his way out, Sam called after him. "Vince!" Lord turned.”Yes?" "Thanks," Sam said.”Just thanks, that's all.”

So all that was necessary now, Sam reasoned, was to wait. Wait, just briefly, with confidence that FDA's approval of Montayne would come quickly, inevitably, soon.

Since their previous encounter, Vincent Lord was aware, some changes had occurred in Dr. Gideon Mace. The FDA official looked older, which he was, but also better than before, which was surprising. His face was less red, the nose veins seemed less prominent. He had shed the shabby suit and bought a new one, also new glasses, so he no longer squinted. His manner seemed easier and, while still not friendly, was certainly less brusque and not aggressive. Perhaps one reason for the changes-a reason Vincent Lord had learned about through his contacts at the agency-was that Mace had stopped drinking and joined Alcoholics Anonymous. Apart from Mace personally, other things were the same or worse. The FDA Washington headquarters was the same impersonal, shabby beehive. In the cupboard like office where Mace was seated at his desk there was more paper than ever; it was piled high everywhere, like a rising flood tide. Even crossing the floor one had to step around paper and files, put there for lack of any other space. Gesturing about him, Lord asked, "Is our Montayne NDA here somewhere?" "Parts of it," Mace said.”I haven't room for it all. Montayne is what you've come about, I suppose.”

"Yes," Lord acknowledged. He was seated, facing the doctor, and even now hoping there might be no need to use the photo static copies that were in a briefcase at his feet. "I'm genuinely worried about that Australian case.”

Again in contrast to the past, Mace's tone was reasonable.”You know the one I mean?" Lord nodded.”The woman in the Outback. Yes, the case went to court where it was thrown out, and there was also a government inquiry. Both times the accusations were checked out thoroughly, and Montayne absolved.”

"I've read all that stuff," Mace said, "but I want more details. I've written to Australia for them, and when they come I may have still more questions.”

Lord protested, "But that could take months!" "Even if it does, I'll be doing what I'm here for.”

Lord made one last try.”When you held up our NDA for Staidpace, I assured you it was a good drug, free from adverse side effects and so-despite the unnecessary delay-it was. Now I'm promising you, based on my reputation as a research scientist, exactly the same is true of Montayne.”

Mace said stolidly, "It's your opinion, not mine, that the Staidpace delay was unnecessary. In any case, that has nothing to do with Montayne.”

"In a way it has," Lord said, knowing he now had no alternative, glancing behind him to be sure the outer door was closed.”It has, because I think what you are doing, to us at Felding-Roth relates not to our latest NDA, but to your own state of mind. You have a lot of personal problems which are getting the better of you, creating unfair prejudices, clouding your judgment. Some of those personal problems have come to my company's attention.”

Mace bridled and his voice sharpened.”What the hell are you talking about?" "This," Lord said. He had the briefcase open and extracted papers.”These are brokerage transaction slips, canceled checks, bank statements, and other items which show you made over sixteen thousand dollars illegal profit, utilizing confidential FDA information concerning two generic drug companies, Binvus Products and Minto Labs.”

Lord added the dozen sheets or so to the paper clutter already on Mace's desk.

”I think you should look these over carefully. I'm aware you've seen them all before, but it may be news to you that someone else has copies. And by the way, these are copies of copies. Keeping or destroying them will do no good.”

It was obvious that Mace recognized instantly the top itern--one of the brokerage transaction slips. His hands were shaking as he picked it up, then followed with the other papers, inspecting, them one by one and clearly with equal recognition. As he progressed, his face went ashen and his mouth worked spasmodically. Lord wondered if Mace would have a stroke or heart attack on the spot. But instead, putting the papers down, Mace asked in a whisper, "Where did you get these?" "That isn't important," Lord answered briskly.”What matters is: we have them and are considering making them available to the Attorney General and probably the press. In that event, of course, there will be an inquiry, and if you've been involved in more incidents of the same kind, those will come out too.”

From Mace's increasingly frightened expression, Lord knew his last random shot had hit home. There were more incidents. Now each of them knew it. Lord remembered something he had once said to Sam Hawthorne in foreseeing what was happening now.”When the time comes, let me do the dirty work.” Then he had added silently, I might even enjoy it. Well, now that it was happening, Lord realized, he was enjoying it. It gave him pleasure to wield power over Mace, to behold an adversary so expert in dishing out humiliation now experiencing the same, and suffering and squirming. "You'll go to jail, of course," Lord pointed out, "and I imagine there'll be a big fine which should clean you out financially.”

Mace said desperately, "This is blackmail. You could be . , .”

His voice was nervous, thin and reedy. Lord roughly cut him off. "Forget that! There are plenty of ways of handling this so our company's involvement isn't known, and there are no witnesses here, just you and me.”

Lord reached over, gathered up the papers he had shown to Mace, and returned them to his briefcase. He had remembered, just in time, that his own fingerprints were on them; no sense in taking a chance on leaving evidence behind. Mace was a broken man. Lord saw with disgust there was spittle on the other man's lips which bubbled as he asked feebly, "What do you want?" "I think you know," Lord said.”I guess you could sum up what we would like as 'an attitude of reasonableness.' “A despairing whisper.”You want that drug approved. Montayne.”

Lord remained silent. "Listen," Mace pleaded, half sobbing now, "I meant it when I said there is a problem... that Australian case, the doubts about Montayne... I truly believe there may be something there... you ought to...”