Blood Brothers

by Rick Acker

  “Okay, here’s the chart showing the different liver enzymes we monitored in each of our Phase I participants,” she said as a slide appeared on the screen. It displayed a number of roughly flat lines bearing the abbreviations for various liver-related chemicals. “We won’t have a complete picture of Neurostim’s pharmacology and pharmacokinetics until at least the end of Phase II, but liver-performance tests give us a good early read on the potential for problems, because most drugs are metabolized in the liver. You’ll notice that the subjects’ liver enzymes and functions are all normal, both at the outset of Phase I and at the end. The numbers float around a little, but they’re all in the normal range. Two participants actually had their liver function improve, probably because we insisted that no one consume more than one ounce of alcohol per day during the trial.”

  “Blood pressure and cardiac function were both the same story,” said Dr. Chow. “Could you show the next slide, Tina?” She hit a key on her computer and a new chart appeared on the screen showing various measures of cardiac health. “See?” continued Dr. Chow. “No change in blood pressure, resting heart rate, or any other heart function we measured. That’s unusual, and positive, for a drug that has stimulant effects.”

  “So we’ve got a green light for Phase II?” asked Karl.

  “The green light will have to come from the FDA,” cautioned Dr. Chow, “but none of the data from Phase I give me any reason to think they won’t give it. The results have all been very positive. This looks like a safe drug, which is all they really care about, particularly at this stage.”

  “Good, good,” said Karl. “Did Phase I give us any idea about how well it will work in humans? I know the protocol was set up to look at maximum tolerated dose, but did we learn anything about efficacy?”

  “Most of the dosage levels we used in Phase I were pretty low,” said Dr. Corrigan. “They resulted in blood levels of the drug and its metabolites that were near the bottom of the levels at which we began to see effects in animals. Still, we did ask participants to report any positive effects they noticed, and the anecdotal evidence was encouraging.”

  “It’s nothing we can put in a press release,” added Dr. Chow, “but it is quite positive. In fact, it excited me enough that I asked Tina to put together a highly unscientific chart to show you.”

  Dr. Corrigan clicked her mouse and a new slide appeared on the screen. It showed three lines: red, yellow, and blue. The y-axis of the chart was titled “Dosage” and the x-axis was titled “Time.” The red and yellow lines remained essentially unchanged across the chart, while the blue line rose sharply, particularly toward the right side of the slide. “The red line represents overall heart function,” explained Dr. Corrigan. “The yellow line represents overall liver function. And the blue represents reports of positive effects from participants. We weren’t actively monitoring drug efficacy during Phase I, but we had asked participants to report any effects they noticed.”

  “But the participants all knew what Neurostim is supposed to do, right?” observed Karl. “Just as a psychological phenomenon, wouldn’t you expect them to start noticing and reporting positive effects as their dosage level went up, even if Neurostim didn’t work at all?”

  Drs. Chow and Corrigan both smiled.

  “Yes, we would,” said Dr. Chow. He nodded to Dr. Corrigan, who clicked her mouse again. A green line appeared on the chart. It rose from left to right, but at less than half the rate of the blue line. “The green line represents the reports of positive effects from members of the placebo group. As I said, the results are encouraging. Not scientifically reliable, but encouraging nonetheless.”

  “Yes,” agreed Karl. “Yes, they certainly are. You two and your staffs have done some really first-rate work—which I’ll let you get back to now. Thanks for stopping by to update me.”

  After the meeting, Karl walked back to his office, humming happily. Things were falling into place nicely. Now there was just one major loose end he needed to tie up before the trial started. After settling into his chair, he picked up the phone and dialed Alex Geist’s number.

  “Hello, Mr. Bjornsen,” said Geist’s colorless voice a few seconds later.

  “Hello, Alex. I have a project for you. I’d like a report on Cleverlad.ru. They’re an Internet drug site. I want the works—key employees, detailed finances, any legal or regulatory issues they may have, and so on. When can you have that for me?”

  “What are your intentions regarding that company?”

  Karl frowned. “Why do you ask? Are they a client of yours?”

  “No, but based on press reports, they appear to be a client of yours.”

  “So what?” Karl said. Geist’s attitude irritated him, as did being reminded of the fiasco in the courtroom. As Geist implied, the business papers had reported Karl’s awkward testimony about Cleverlad, which had created a PR headache for the company and had the potential to take some of the shine off of Karl’s previously sterling reputation.

  “Cleverlad is . . . of interest to us,” said Geist. “My associates and I are not on friendly terms with them. In light of your relationship to them, I will need to know the use to which you intend to put the information you are requesting.”

  “Confidentially speaking, I’d rather not do business with them,” replied Karl. “I’m hoping your report will help me cut our ties with Cleverlad.”

  “I see. Based on that representation, we are willing to provide you a dossier on both the company and its owner, Mr. George Kulish. I will also make you an offer: we will reduce our fees by fifty percent for this project if you will agree to share with us any information you independently obtain regarding Mr. Kulish or any entity related to him. We will keep any information you provide confidential and we will not resell it.”

  “What’s your interest in Kulish?”

  Geist didn’t speak for several seconds. “I will share with you a piece of confidential information that will not appear in the formal dossier, but which may prove important to you. Several years ago, we were retained to investigate an entity related to Mr. Kulish. One of our employees traveled to Russia as part of the investigation. He was killed in a plane crash. The Russian authorities determined that the cause of the crash was a flaw in the software that operated the plane’s hydraulic system. We subsequently determined that the flaw had been deliberately introduced shortly before our employee boarded the plane. There have been other, similar incidents in which individuals unfriendly to Mr. Kulish have suffered unfortunate circumstances.”

  “I see,” replied Karl. He wasn’t surprised to learn that George Kulish was a murderer, but it was unsettling to hear that he had managed to kill one of Geist’s people. “That’s good to know. One other thing: I need you to get records of every phone call made between our Norwegian facility and George Kulish, Cleverlad, or any of its affiliates. I also need the same information for each of our Norwegian employees.”

  “Have they signed waivers authorizing release of this information?” asked Geist.

  “Of course,” replied Karl. “It’s part of their standard employment packages. I’ll send you copies.”

  “Excellent. We will have the entire report ready for you two business days after I receive the waivers.”

  “And if you find that any of our people have been talking to Cleverlad, let me know what else you can find out about them quickly,” said Karl, crossing the penultimate item off his mental checklist.

  “Of course.”

  “One final thing: I remember you saying that you used to have very good connections at a number of intelligence and law-enforcement organizations, both on national and international levels. How current are those connections?”

  At seven o’clock the next morning, David Lee sat down at his computer, turned it on, and put on his headset. As he waited for the computer to boot up, he glanced over his notes one last time. He opened his Internet phone program, activated the privacy feature to make the call effectively untraceable, and dialed Bjornsen P
harmaceuticals’ main number. His heart raced as the phone rang. A woman’s voice answered, “Good morning. Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals.”

  “Good morning. Could you tell Dr. Reddy that Keya is on the phone for him?”

  A few seconds later, a male voice with an Indian accent said, “Hello, Keya.”

  “Hello, Dr. Reddy.”

  The line was silent for several seconds. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your conscience.”

  “Is this some kind of joke? Who is this?”

  “I know what you did last weekend, and I think I need to tell your wife.”

  The line was silent again, this time for nearly half a minute. David began to sweat and feared that he had overplayed his hand. He reached for his mouse and was about to cut the connection, but he heard a shaky breath in his ear and knew that all was well. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Now you’re lying too.”

  “What . . . what do you want from me?”

  “You’re working with a drug called Neurostim. Send one thousand ten-milligram doses to PO Box 4653 in Los Angeles, 90012.”

  “I can’t do that. That much would be missed.”

  “No, it won’t. Your company just issued a press release saying that they’re starting a major, nationwide clinical-testing program. They’ll be using a lot of the drug and shipping it to participating labs around the country. It will be easy for a box to get lost in the mail.”

  “I will lose my job and get deported if I am caught,” pleaded Dr. Reddy. “I might even go to jail. Can I just send you money? Maybe five thousand dollars?”

  “No. Listen to your conscience. Send me the pills or Keya finds out what you’ve been doing. If I don’t have them in one week, I’ll call her. And if there are any problems when I pick up the pills, someone else will call her if I can’t. Good-bye.”

  “Wait, I—” David clicked his mouse and Dr. Reddy’s frantic voice vanished. He wiped the sweat off his palms and smiled. He was well on the way to locking in his supply of Neurostim through at least the end of next school year and maybe longer. Problem solved.

  Gunnar sat in the Corbins’ office lobby, thinking pleasant thoughts. Ben had returned from Norway the day before and had called to suggest that they meet to discuss the agenda for the remaining three weeks before trial. Based on the reports Ben had e-mailed from Norway, that shouldn’t be too difficult. According to Ben, the meeting with Gunnar’s old friend Henrik Haugeland had gone well, and Noelle Corbin’s auditing project had borne the hoped-for fruit. They had a clear advantage over Karl now, so presumably the main pretrial task was to hold that advantage.

  The door opened and Ben walked into the lobby, exuding measured confidence. “Good morning, Gunnar. Let’s head back to the conference room.”

  “All right.” They walked down the hallway to the little conference room that Gunnar knew well after more than a dozen visits. He sat down in his usual chair, took a sip of the coffee proffered by the receptionist, and listened to Ben.

  “As I think you know, the trip to Norway paid off nicely. Henrik Haugeland should make a good witness, and the documents he helped us find will be useful. That’s the good news. The bad news is that Karl’s lawyers have been busy doing the same thing I have—filling sandbags and lining them up to drop on you at trial.

  “We don’t know what they’ve got, and they don’t know what we’ve got. But that will all change in six days when we have to exchange witness and exhibit lists. Anything or anyone that’s not on those lists can’t be brought in at trial.”

  Gunnar nodded and chuckled. “So they have to put all their cards on the table, and so do we. I wish I could be there to see Karl’s face when he finds out that Henrik is going to testify, and he sees all those bribery receipts on our exhibit list. He will go completely nuts.”

  “So will Bert Siwell,” replied Ben. “One of the things we—or really I—have to do between now and then is get ready for Siwell’s objections to our evidence. I did some research before we sent Noelle to Norway—enough to know we weren’t violating any rules by talking to Henrik and going through Norge’s documents—but there’s a lot that I still need to do on that front.

  “The second main agenda item is mostly on Sergei’s plate. In fact, I think he’s working on it right now. That item is doing background checks on all our key witnesses, particularly Mr. Haugeland.”

  “I can vouch for Henrik,” Gunnar assured Ben, resting a massive hand on his lawyer’s arm. “I’ve known him for over twenty years. If there were any skeletons in his closet, I’m sure I would know about them.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” replied Ben, “but I’m sure Siwell will have investigators digging into Henrik’s past five minutes after we send over our witness list. We need to know what they’ll find. There may be inaccurate information that we need to know about. I once had a client whose criminal record showed that he had been indicted and convicted in absentia in Canada for check forgery. It turned out that the real forger—who was never caught—had stolen my client’s identity and used it to open bank accounts to launder the money. Fortunately, we found this out before trial and we were able to get his record cleared before he took the stand. If we hadn’t discovered the problem until opposing counsel asked him about it in front of the jury, it would have been a disaster.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Gunnar. “That’s a good point. All right, what else do we have to do before trial?”

  “A million little things that will keep me busy, but that you don’t need to worry about. The one thing I’d like you to do is give some thought to what you want to do if you win.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ben took a deep breath and looked his client in the eye. “Gunnar, you talked to Professor Sørensen about what he found in that cave, right?”

  “Yes, he told me all about it. He said they found some magnificent artifacts. Once we win this lawsuit and I’m back in charge of the company, I’ll have to see if we can arrange another exhibition at the Field Museum and include those.”

  “Did he also mention that he thinks the plant the hiker found in the cave was used by the berserkers?”

  “Yes, he mentioned that. It’s an interesting historical footnote. Once Karl finds out, I’ll bet he comes up with some way to use it in a marketing campaign.”

  Ben stared at him for a moment with a look of surprise on his face. “Well, it’s more than an interesting footnote, isn’t it? It sounded like these berserkers turned into homicidal maniacs after eating the plant and doing whatever rituals they did. Is it a good idea for a company to sell a drug that might turn thousands of people into berserkers? And what about all the soldiers who will be taking the drug; what happens if someone goes berserk while they’re flying a bomber or commanding a tank?”

  Gunnar digested the news slowly. “That’s . . . interesting, very interesting. Finn and I didn’t discuss the berserkers in depth, and I confess that I don’t know much about them beyond the fact that they were legendary warriors. But if the drug turns people into ‘homicidal maniacs,’ as you put it, I’m sure that will come out in the preclinical and clinical studies. The FDA will insist that they be designed to catch preliminary signs of behavioral problems long before the dosage levels are high enough for the subjects to become dangerous. That’s what clinical trials are for, after all.”

  Six hours later, Gunnar sat in an armchair in his den reading a dusty volume of Aschehougs Konversasjons Leksikon, a Norwegian encyclopedia he had bought over forty years ago but rarely used. Its entry on berserkers was, like everything else he had found on the subject, short on useful data and long on speculation. It simply confirmed that the berserkers would work themselves into a rage during secret ceremonies, and that they were unstoppable in battle. The closest it got to hard facts on berserkers was the following: “In battle, they were enraged, biting their shields, howling like dogs. Weapons could not touch them; they ate coals and walked through fire. Some have tried to ex
plain their rage, ‘berserkergang,’ as the result of eating psychoactive mushrooms, but this is unknown from ancient sources.”

  That was hardly the level of certainty and detail he needed. Still, it was encouraging. XD-463 wasn’t made from mushrooms, and it didn’t appear to cause the kind of psychosis mentioned in Aschehougs. Both he and the company had invested a lot in XD-463. Much as he hated the idea of Karl running the company, he hated the idea of XD-463 failing even more. This drug was supposed to be their passage to greatness, to transforming Bjornsen Pharmaceuticals from a regional, middle-market player into a top-five company. It would also transform both of the Bjornsen brothers from millionaires into billionaires, based on their large holdings of the company’s stock.

  His mind turned to the monkey incident Dr. Chatterton had told him about. He had remembered it during his conversation with Ben but hadn’t mentioned it; he wanted to think about it more before saying anything. It did sound uncomfortably like the berserker behavior Aschehougs described—and it was unlike anything he had ever heard about monkeys. He shut the book and put it back in its place on the shelf. Then he began to pace back and forth across the den.

  Should he take this to the FDA? If so, he would need something better than “If people taking the drug are provoked, they might howl and bite things.” He needed to be able to point to hard evidence that XD-463 was dangerous and that human trials should be halted. Without that, he’d look like little more than a disgruntled former executive who was trying to embarrass his successor. He also risked humiliating and damaging his company over nothing.

  Or should he simply pass his worries along to Karl? Gunnar doubted that his brother would intentionally sell a highly dangerous drug, even if billions of dollars were on the line. Instead, Karl would find a way to convince himself and his inner circle that the drug wasn’t actually dangerous. Then he would sell it. He was fond of saying that “a good salesman always sells himself first,” and he was a very good salesman.