Old World Pharmaceuticals

by Brian Myrick

  “So, you’re a pretty smart guy, it looks like you have a few degrees,” Dan says. “How did you end up working at Old World?”

  “I applied, and they hired me,” Jacob says with a smug look on his face. “What’s this about?”

  Dan breaks away from the papers he is looking at to look up at Jacob and asks “So, do you like it there, Jacob?”

  “No, not really, it’s night shifts, and who wants to work night shifts?” Jacob says with a slight yawn. “So, again, what’s this about?”

  “We just think something may not be exactly right over there at Old World,” Dan says.

  “You mean, like working night shifts?” Jacob asks. “There is still no one there that will give me a straight answer on that, along with anything else I try and ask.”

  “So, you think there might be some problems, also?” Frank asks.

  “Yeah, I would say there are problems,” Jacob says. “I’m pretty sure they are going to fire me on Monday and that would be a problem for me!”

  Dan and Frank look at each other and grin. Dan’s finger rolling speeds up.

  “So, what would get you fired in only working a few weeks there?” Dan asks.

  “Look, I don’t want to get in trouble, but what they are doing over there doesn’t seem right to me,” Jacob says.

  “Okay, Jacob,” Dan says, “we are going to need you to not get fired just yet. There are a few things we are going to need you to get from inside Old World.”

  ***

  Chapter Seven

  The Year Is 1984

  T

  hrough the darkness of the early night, Azreal and Samuel walk up an oversized walkway that is lined with perfectly manicured shrubs and bushes. The walkway leads to the door of a large estate size two-story red brick house. Azreal reaches up and grabs the steel doorknocker that is bolted to one of the over-sized double doors on the front of the house. A minute after Azreal gives two hard knocks that rattle through the house, one of the doors opens to reveal a man in his early 60’s and slightly overweight, Senator Thatch.

  “Can I help you, gentleman?” Senator Thatch says.

  “I understand your wife is sick,” Azreal says.

  “How did you know that?” Senator Thatch snaps back at Azreal.

  “May we come in to talk more about a proposal we have for you?” Azreal asks.

  Some time has passed, and the group is sitting in the living room of Senator Thatch’s house. The living room is lined with what looks like very expensive art and beautiful vases sitting on a pillar. The light from a fireplace still burning bright is lighting the room, a chandelier helps fill the rest of the dark spots in the room. Azreal and Samuel are setting on a couch while the Senator sits across from them. Separating them is a long short table with several round stains from coffee and drinks that had been left on the table for too long during hours of discussion that had happened around the table for years. Sitting on the other side of the table is Senator Thatch in a very comfortable over-sized and ware out chair that looks like he has spent many hours in it by the fireplace.

  The story Azreal spins for the Senator stretches back a thousand years and is incomprehensible to a normal human. It’s a story that to the Senator sounds like a fairytale but is so intriguing that the Senator can’t help but listen to every word of it waiting for a fantastic ending like a good book.

  At the end of the story, Azreal and Samuel sit quietly looking at the Senator, who begins laughing out loud hysterically and slapping his knees as he doubles over from laughing. Then after a moment the Senator composes himself and sits back up to leans back in his big chair to address them. "So, you must admit, your story seems a little farfetched, right?” Senator Thatch says with a grin.

  “Yes, I agree it might seem that way to you, but I assure you all of it is true,” Azreal says.

  “While I have enjoyed this conversation with you gentlemen,” Senator Thatch says. “It’s getting late and I think I have heard enough tall tells for this evening.”

  Samuel reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out a small glass veil with red, almost black blood in it and holds it up in the flickering light from the fireplace for the Senator to see. The Senator leans forward in his chair looking at the glass veil intensely.

  “Senator, with a drop of the blood that is in this veil, you could have your wife back, feeling better than she has felt in twenty years,” Samuel says, “and with your help bypassing some government regulations, all of mankind can start a new path.”

  “I don’t know what you two are up to, but there is no way I believe any of this horseshit,” Senator Thatch says. “It’s time I saw you two out!”

  Azreal and Samuel look at each other, and then slowly back at Senator Thatch. Azreal leans forward to stare hard at Senator Thatch. “You will be a true believer in a minute,” Azreal says as he opens his mouth and long, sharp fangs snap out from Azreal’s teeth.

  Faster than light, Azreal leaps directly over the coffee table and is standing in front of Senator Thatch now looking down at him. Senator Thatch jerks back in his chair startled by the speed that Azreal was able to move in front of him. Samuel springs off the couch and in a flash, he is up the stairs standing at the entrance door to the master bedroom of the house.

  Thatch knows his wife is in the master bedroom and panic fills him from his toes to his head, as he sees Samuel standing at the door. With every bit of strength, he has he tries to stand to his feet, but it does him no good. He is no match for Azreal as he wraps his cold powerful hands around Thatch’s shoulders forcing him back down in his chair. The chair that was so comfortable just moments ago is now the same as a jail cell with no escape.

  “NO!” Senator Thatch shouts as he struggles in vain to free himself from Azreal’s powerful grip.

  The door to the master bedroom flies open, and Samuel enters the room.

  The Senator’s wife is sleeping peacefully in the comfort of her bed, she is old and skinny, the color in her face that she once had is all but gone now. The cancer she has fought for so long has made her fragile and weak. Samuel enters the room and shuts the door behind him as he walks over to the bed and kneels down to look at her. The Senator’s wife rolls over to see the strange man in her room in a weak and scared voice she says, “who are you?”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Samuel says in a gentle and soothing voice. “I’m going to help you. Would you like that?”

  The Senator’s Wife slowly nods in approval and gives a slight grunt from the pain caused by the motion of rolling over to face Samuel.

  Azreal looks up at the stairs, and then back at Senator Thatch before releasing him from his iron grip. Azreal takes a step backwards, allowing Senator Thatch to get up from the chair. Senator Thatch immediately runs for the stairs climbing them fumbling and stumbling, bouncing off the wall and back to the handrail trying to make it to the top as fast as he can.

  Senator Thatch burst into the master bedroom slamming the door open as hard as he can but then stops only a few feet into the room. Samuel is standing next to the bed, holding the Senators wife’s hand in his. The Senator’s Wife is now sitting up in bed smiling and looking at Samuel and then at back at Thatch. The color is coming back to her face. Azreal walks in the room behind Senator Thatch and places his hand softly on the Senator's shoulder.

  “Join your wife, Senator,” Samuel says. “We can talk when you are ready. We will be downstairs, waiting.”

  Samuel softy places the hand of the Senator’s wife down on the bed and walks past the senator to leave the room with Azreal. Tears roll down Senator Thatch’s face as he stares at his wife.

  ***

  Chapter Eight

  The Year Is 2018

  I

  t’s dark outside of the large county style home that Samuel and Emma live in. Rocking chairs sit on the porch that wraps around the house, gently moving with the cold breeze blowing by them. A much older looking Samuel and Emma are sitting s
nuggled together on a couch in their living room. Emma is sipping tea and wrapped in a blanket to keep warm. A fire is blazing at one end of the living room.

  “We have had a great life together, haven’t we?” Samuel asks.

  “Yes, we have my love,” Emma says.

  Samuel reaches over to put his hand on Emma’s leg and then turns to look into her eyes.

  “Do you have any regrets?” Emma asks.

  Emma sets her tea on a coffee table, and then turns to face Samuel, putting her hand on top of his.

  “No, my love,” Samuel says, “there is nothing I would change.”

  “You could have let me go and lived forever,” Emma says.

  Emma reaches out to touch Samuel’s cold face with both her hands.

  “My love, by helping you,” Samuel says. “I learned I could help millions of other people. It will never make up for the horrible things I have done to humans, but it gives me some measure of peace. I know Azreal and Haley feel the same way.”

  “And Gabriel?” Emma asks.

  Samuel puts his head down for a moment then gets up from the couch and walks over to the window with his back turned to Emma. For what seems like forever, he stares out the window at the darkness. “Gabriel will have to make his peace with who he is and the things he has done when he is ready,” Samuel says. “I truly don’t know what will become of him.”

  ***

  Dan, Frank, Troy, and Angela are sitting around the FDA conference table. Dan has a stack of papers in front of him again, neatly organized. As usual, he is slowly rolling his fingers on the table-index, ring, middle, and pinky, slow taps on the table, over and over.

  “So, just to get everyone up to speed, it looks like we have a confidential informant now inside Old World,” Dan says as he picks up a paper from the stack in front of him to read from it. “A Jacob Ellis. Frank and I paid him a visit, and he had some interesting stuff to say about Old World.”

  “Dan, does anyone outside of this room know you talked to this Jacob guy?” Angela asks. “Or what has been going on with your investigation?”

  “No, Angela,” Dan says. “I wouldn’t go over your head. This investigation has been by the book.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Dan,” Angela says. “If you haven’t talked to anyone then why did I get a call from D.C. this morning, from someone I didn’t even know was in my chain of command, asking a lot of questions about Old World?”

  “I have no idea why anyone from D.C. would be checking on this?” Dan asks. “Why would they care?”

  “Well, that might explain the stuff I got back from records,” Frank says as he scratches his head.

  “What are you talking about, fucking new guy?” Dan asks.

  “You asked me to pull the hard copies of Old World’s past submissions for new drugs,” Franks says. “I thought it would be harder to get that stuff because of the twenty-year shelf life on the patents before they expired, and the generic versions of those drugs started getting made.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Dan says. “So, did you get those submissions?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Frank opens the folder sitting in front of him and passes a handful of papers to Dan in a neat manner.

  Dan sets the papers down on the table and starts looking at them. The slow thuds from his finger rolling get faster and faster as he looks through the papers one by one.

  “You going to share this with us, Dan?” Angela asks and tries to get a better look at the papers, but Dan is shuffling through them too quick to see anything written on them.

  Dan keeps looking through the papers and then stops rolling his finger to scratch his head. Then, back to rolling his finger but now much harder than before.

  “This just doesn’t make sense,” Dan says. “Frank, this is all you got? Fuck, what is this?”

  “That’s it,” Franks says, “That’s all they had.”

  “Thirty years of making some of the world’s bestselling drugs and this shit is all you got?” Dan says.

  “Dan, give me those papers right now!” Angela yells as her patience runs out.

  Dan passes the papers back to Frank, who hands them to Angela. She has the same confused look on her face as she reads through them.

  “Redacted for security reasons?” Angela says. “National Security, Classified?”

  Angela keeps reading in disbelief as she scans over several pages full of classified marks. She puts the papers down and glances between the others at the table.

  “How is that even possible?” Frank asks. “I thought we were the ones that protected the public?”

  “What the fuck is that, Angela?” Dan asks, then stands up and begins to pace near the table.

  “This is clearly over both of our pay grades, Dan,” Angela says. “We are going to pull back on this case until I get more direction from D.C.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Dan stops pacing to protest and approaches the table. “Come on! We are too close to getting these fuckers!”

  “Dan, you heard me!” Angela says. “You are off this case! I know this would be too close to home for you!” Dan instantly starts rolling his fingers so hard and fast the table begins to vibrate.

  “What the fuck does that mean Angela?” Dan says, now becoming angry at Angela’s remark. “Too close to home?”

  Angela stands and walks to the door but turns to look at Dan, “You heard me, Dan. You’re done with this for now.” She walks out the door leaving Dan rolling his fingers.

  Frank nods to Dan with a somber look then stands up and leaves the room with Troy.

  ***

  Dan is now sitting at his desk sometime after the meeting, still upset with being told to stop investigating the Old World case by Angela. He picks up his office phone and types in a number then looks down at a piece of paper he is holding.

  “Mike, what’s going on with that wiretap I asked you to set up for this weekend?” Dan asks into the receiver, and he listens to the response. Then says back into the phone, “Of course, I have the warrant; it’s right here in my hand, everything is good to go. You going to get this done for me, or what?”

  Dan looks back down at the warrant in his hand. The space for a judge to sign the document is clearly blank. Dan pulls the phone base over to the middle of his desk, so the phone cord will reach as he slides his chair over and inserts the warrant into the paper shredder next to his desk.

  “What the fuck, buddy?” Dan says into the phone. “You think I would ask you to do this if the judge hadn’t signed off on it? Come on.” He waits a moment as Mike on the other line speaks. “Okay, great. I’ll check back with you next week when you have something. Thanks, buddy.” Dan hangs up the phone, then leans back in his chair slightly and breathes deep once, then again catching his breath.

  ***

  Chapter Nine

  The Year Is 2018

  S

  amantha is speeding down a moonlit road in a blacked out top of the line, two-door Mercedes. The road is bordered by a tall stone wall. She drives next to the wall for what seems like forever until she comes up to an enormous, steel-gated entryway. She slows down just enough to whip the Mercedes into the small driveway in front of the steel gates and slams the brakes on stopping exactly next to an intercom mounted in the stone wall. The blacked out window of the car slides down and she extends her hand to push a button on the intercom. “Open the gates,” Samantha says into the intercom.

  The intercom beeps and the massive gates start to open.

  Down the street from the gated entrance, hidden in the dark, sitting on the side of the road is Dan, in his car with binoculars, watching Samantha pull up through the gate. Dan Smiles under his binoculars, as he mumbles to himself “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  Samantha continues up the long driveway for a minute, far behind the walls and steel gates. The driveway is lined with giant trees and thick bushes, before reaching the massive estate home of Gabr
iel. Samantha parks her car and flings the door open. Out comes Samantha in red high hills and a small black dress, looking hot and ready to hit the town for a night out. She walks up to two large, double doors to the front of the house, black with steel security bars bolted on them. As she approaches, the doors open with the sounds of a bank vault unlocking. Gabriel is standing inside and motions for her to come in.

  Samantha enters the house, and the front door shuts behind her. Gabriel and Samantha walk down a hallway covered with beautifully framed pieces of art. They emerge from the hallway and into an oversized living room.

  In the living room is a long, red couch with a coffee table in front of it and end tables on each side, in front of the table is a floor-to-ceiling window. The window faces out at the back of the compound and during the daylight, one would be able to see a large thick forest of trees that stretch for miles, but at night black darkness is all that is visible through the window.

  “You made it here quick,” Gabriel says. “I would ask if you even went home first, but looking at you, I know you did. Very nice.”

  “Well, thank you,” Samantha says. “Why aren’t you ready? The night is wasting.”

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll be ready to go,” Gabriel walks away, down another long hallway in the house.

  Samantha walks over to the couch and leans against it looking out at the darkness. In a few seconds, Gabriel walks back in the room but is now wearing a sharp, black suit, no tie, and the top of his shirt unbuttoned. She turns to admire him. “You always clean up very well.”

  “You have seen me in a suit a million times,” Gabriel replies with a smirk.

  Samantha walks over to Gabriel and sensually rubs her hand up the front of his chest. “Yes, I have,” Samantha says, “and it always makes me feel the same way.”