“I told you: I’m working in research now. I don’t even do anything with regulations. Nothing.”
“But you’ll still talk with people there. You’ll still hear things.”
“Even if I do, I’m not going to jeopardize my job.” The fork slipped from his hand as it clenched into a fist. He shook his head.
Audrey wrapped her fingers around his hand and gave him a small, reassuring squeeze. “Everything will be anonymous. Nobody will be the wiser.”
“I don’t want to risk it, Audrey. I’m not going to lose my job.” Matthew took his hand from hers and leaned back, away from her, folding his arms across his chest.
“I don’t want to lose mine, either. This is absolutely vital to me. It’s the only way I’ll stay ahead.”
Matthew glared at her.
“I already have sources at LyfeGen,” Audrey said, desperate. “You didn’t know that and neither does anyone else working there. See? But they aren’t near regulations; they aren’t doing what you are. I hoped you’d be supportive of my work.”
Matthew gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. The shadows created by the dancing candlelight accentuated the creases in his face, making him appear menacing. “You already have sources? At my company? And you want me to play along with them? How is that supposed to make me feel?”
The band had quieted between sets, almost as if in reaction to their argument.
“I don’t know,” Audrey said. She put her face in a hand, rubbing her palm against her cheek. “You knew what you were getting into when you married me. This is my job. Is it really a surprise?”
Neither of them talked as the waiter boxed up their desserts. The taxi ride home was wrought in tense silence. Audrey looked out the window and ignored Matthew’s permanent grimace.
Doug wagged his tail when they got home and licked at their hands, but looked confused as they both strode past him moodily.
Audrey undid her dress and hung it in the closet as Matthew went to the bathroom. The shower faucet squeaked and the pattering of water echoed out from under the bathroom door. She lay on the bed and rolled over to face the empty space where Matthew always slept. On his nightstand, his comm card sat where he had placed it before entering the shower.
She turned away and curled up under the covers.
If only he could help her, she was sure she could protect him and herself. She knew she could. If only he wasn’t so stubborn.
She sat up and looked back at the comm card. That card stored the connections to every project Matthew had or would be working on. Every contact within the company. Every message between coworkers. Every instruction, every secret he kept from her.
Respect for his privacy struggled against curiosity and, ultimately, her anger at him won out. She reached across the bed and quickly scanned his comm card, going through recent messages, skimming them for some insight that might help her with her investigation into the effects of Joel Cobb’s death. Her heart raced and her ears were glued to the rhythm of water against their tiled shower floor.
One message from Jonathan Grieves piqued her interest:
“Matthew,
Here’s a quick run-through of what I want you to be doing and how I want it prioritized, just to recap. First, make sure to run through the package product with Jacqueline. That’s your primary responsibility until we hear of an official investigation. At that point, we’ll run full regulation mode, research coming secondary. In that case, see the attached document so you can start preparing for an audit situation. That’s a checklist of everything you should be preparing now. Remember to pay special attention to doctors’ reports.”
The squeak of the shower faucet brought her eyes up from the card. She placed it back on Matthew’s nightstand and sank into the covers, squeezing her eyes shut as her mind raced. Matthew would be furious if he knew what she had done.
When he lay down, his back to hers, she couldn’t help wondering what he actually did know about Cobb’s death and the expected fallout. From the tone of the message, it appeared that there might be a heightened sense of worry at LyfeGen; maybe they were expecting an investigation, just as Stanley had told her. But what did doctors’ reports have to do with that?
Still, none of that appeared to lead to the most important questions. She knew there were no other deaths associated with diseases or conditions preventable by the Sustain. Those thoughts boiled in her mind, keeping her awake. Despite everything she knew about LyfeGen, she had never come across a significant regulatory concern. Over the years LyfeGen had gobbled up a number of smaller companies, all of which contributed to their product line with nary a problem. FDA records indicated virtually perfect rates of success with the Sustain organ over the past decade.
What did she actually know about Joel Cobb?
The dead entrepreneur had been notorious for attending enough public events to keep people interested, but not enough for anyone to truly get to know him. He had refused to talk to reporters one on one and reverted to rote public-release information when pressed. So how had Amy Park been so quick to report his death? How had she known?
The significance of the inventor of the god organ, the very god himself, dying despite his own life-saving device was not lost on Audrey.
While everyone focused on the FDA audit, the falling stock prices, and the possibility of a devastating device recall, Audrey wondered if there were other questions that should be asked. Had Joel Cobb died because the Sustain had failed him, or had someone wanted him dead?
Chapter 10
Preston Carter
October 19, 2063
“What’s the word around the office?” Preston absentmindedly traced the patterns in the wood grain of the desk’s surface with a finger.
Anil lowered himself into a chair. “People are still worried about an audit, despite everything you’ve said. Meredith still seems peeved that you’re CEO and not her. Our new pet research projects are starting. Grieves told me he’s put the right people in place in case of an audit, too.”
“Good on Grieves. Meredith still bothers me. She’s perfectly amiable when we meet, but I’m afraid of the trouble she might cause behind my back. Have you heard of anything else?”
Preston couldn’t push Beth Childs’s allegations from his mind. He’d obstinately dealt with homophobia throughout his life. While social progress meant he could live his life openly, marry, adopt children, and pay the resulting taxes just like any heterosexual individual, there were still pockets of people unwilling to accept the reality of homosexuality. It sickened him that people might be suggesting his business ethics were compromised by his sexuality. He didn’t want people to think he had succeeded where they had not because he had provided Joel Cobb with some wild sexual experience. Furthermore, Preston didn’t want to be known as the gay CEO. He was just a CEO who happened to be gay.
Anil shook his head, a wide smile plastered across his face. “Nothing else that I’m aware of.”
“Are you sure?”
Anil shrugged. “Nothing of particular interest to you, I’m certain.”
“I trust you’ll tell me if anything changes.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve got a meeting with the Board, so I’m going to have to kick you out.”
Anil emitted a shrill chuckle and Preston cringed slightly. “All right. Don’t let them beat you up too badly. Anyway, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for you.” He winked and closed the door behind him.
Promptly at 2:00 p.m., Shaw, Gifford, and Crane appeared as holograms around the conference table in the office suite. The Board members glowed with a ghostly blue hue in the dimmed light. Shaw began to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth. Preston stabbed at the projection screen with a finger to turn on the sound of the conference table speaker.
“—mess. We’re looking at a ten-point drop in the past day, twenty since the beginning of the week. Share prices aren’t stabilizing, either. At this rate,
we can expect a marathon sell-off. We’ll be brought to our knees if more negative streams hit investors.”
“I know,” Preston said. “This isn’t easy for us. I’ve set up proactive measures—”
“Proactive? It’s too late for that. I want real action, right now.”
“I understand. Let me rephrase that: I’ve restructured the research and regulations departments slightly, with the help of Anil, and we’re looking at several projects that will hopefully curb bullish outlooks on us.”
“I don’t like the use of the term hopefully.” Shaw scowled.
Preston collected his thoughts before speaking again. “I’m optimistic that it’ll make a difference. A positive impact. I have one group finishing up a project on expedited package updates for the Sustain that’ll encompass a broad spectrum of diseases and genetic conditions, alleviating the lengthy and expensive process of tailoring the Sustain for individual patients. Of course, we can still charge a premium if someone wants custom updates, but I think there’s a distinct advantage offered in making the process cheaper for us and perhaps more attainable by more potential patients. Second, I’ve ensured that we’re already putting together all the necessary paperwork, lab notebooks, research papers, data, and so on, so in the case of an inspection or audit, everything is absolutely prepared and we can get the FDA in and out in no time. We won’t have to shut down production for long.”
“We shouldn’t have to shut it down at all.” Shaw’s white eyebrows pressed together.
“I still think we should put more effort into determining whether whatever happened to Cobb could happen to any other of our patients. You may be interested in our financials, but I also have to be concerned about those people with our Sustains.”
Crane shook his head, his face scrunched and wrinkled like a hound dog’s. “They aren’t our patients. They’re the doctors’ patients, who happen to be our customers.”
“Despite what you call them, their lives could be at risk,” Preston said.
“Could is too loose a word.” Shaw whirled a finger in the air. “I need more certainty than that.”
“Then let me release Cobb’s autopsy reports to a research team. Let them scour them, see if there are any signs that the doctors missed that might link his death to the Sustain or to something else entirely.”
“Doing that would invite too many questions, and the company is leaky enough as it is. We don’t need the news streams telling the whole world we aren’t sure about what happened to Cobb.”
“We aren’t sure, though.” Preston arched his eyebrows.
Shaw slammed a fist on the table, though no thud resounded from his holo projection. “The FDA doesn’t know that yet, and neither does the public. Let’s wait until we’re absolutely certain before we make any rash decisions.”
Preston didn’t understand how Joel had gotten along with these men. He had been idealistic, at times eccentric. His personality and theirs must surely have clashed. “Well, like I said last time, if the FDA suspects, like we do, that Cobb’s death had anything at all to do with the Sustain, we have to prepare for the worst.”
“You’ll make sure that they won’t think that, though.” Crane wagged his crooked pointer finger.
“I think it best that we prepare for the worst,” Preston said. “Look, I know your primary interest is in the financial state of the company and your investments. But you know as well as I do that this is a long-term investment. We aren’t talking about venture capital thousand-percent returns in two years. We’re a big company, going through a big problem. I’m confident that we can come through this, minimizing the short-term losses incurred by Cobb’s death. I’m also confident that my refocusing on new research projects will push us forward in the long term. I don’t say this as a matter of ego, but you three are all businessmen and I’m a researcher first and foremost. I know how to do research and I know how to direct it. And that’s exactly what will propel this company forward after we get through this mess. But you have to trust me. You appointed me and I need your confidence now, for the sake of our employees and for the public.”
Shaw frowned, but nodded. “That’s all fine enough. But I want you to know that the choice between you and Meredith was extremely difficult to make. We aren’t too proud to admit when we’ve made a mistake and have to correct it.” Shaw signed out, his ethereal hologram flickering out.
Crane nodded a taciturn goodbye and disappeared.
“We’re putting our money on you,” Gifford said. “Just make sure we picked the right horse for this race.”
After Gifford had vanished, Preston used a command on his comm card to raise the clarity of the windows. Sunlight flooded the office. For a second, the light blinded him. He sat at his desk, lost in thought, playing with a three-masted model ship that levitated above a display with magnets. He flicked it. The ship spun around the base but remained suspended.
Anil knocked on the door. Without waiting for confirmation from Preston, he peeked in. The ship still spun and Preston stopped it with his hand.
“Jonathan Grieves, Allison McCoy, and Ken Sur are here to see you.”
Preston waved his hand and Anil held the door open as the three filed in. He knew Jonathan Grieves from many meetings with the regulations department manager and had worked closely with Allison McCoy in research management. Ken Sur, the Sustain production representative, appeared familiar, but he failed to recall meeting the man.
“Nice to see you all. Please, have a seat.”
He motioned to the round conference table that had been occupied moments before by ephemeral holograms. After the three were seated, he joined them, much more at ease meeting with three individuals of real flesh and blood.
“Allison, Jonathan, and I have worked together before.” Preston looked toward Ken. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ve had that same opportunity, since I’ve primarily only worked in research in the past.”
“I’ve only just been promoted. So that’s perfectly understandable. Nice to meet you.” Ken held out a hand and Preston shook it.
“Well, congratulations. Was this—was this approved by Joel, then?”
Ken appeared confused. “Uh, no. It was you who signed the official approval yesterday, after I submitted the application.”
“Right, right.” Preston didn’t remember approving any new promotions or positions for any upper-management roles. This was of interest to him, despite what Anil had said that morning. Still, he didn’t want to appear ignorant and incapable. “Sorry. It’s been a long week, as you can imagine.”
Ken smiled and nodded. “I don’t envy your position.”
“Let’s get started here, shall we?” Preston scrolled through his comm card and made a selection, and a task list appeared in front of the group. He turned to Jonathan. “How’s the universal Sustain update program going?”
Jonathan nodded. “I’ve already appointed two engineers to work on the package update project. I’ve got one guy from my department working with a woman who has a joint position in research and has worked with Allison. The kid, Matthew Pierce, is good. And the lead engineer, Jacqueline, was the driving force behind research at ProlifiTEC before we acquired that company.”
“Ah, yes, the viral vector delivery company that specialized in enzyme and protein replacement vessels.” Preston’s head bobbed. “Great idea to get her in on this.”
“She’s been key in regulating the specific vectors used for individual patients when we do updates,” Allison said. Her wavy black hair bounced with her emphatic words. “She’s responsible for overseeing that each vector perfectly matches the patient’s DNA and immune system, which has worked out great so far.”
“Great,” Preston said. “Are they both aware of their primary roles should we need them purely in regulations?”
“Yes, they’re both still functioning in organizing regulations data and lab results,” Jonathan said.
Allison frowned. “I still have a concern with that. How are they
supposed to get their research done if they’ve got to do regulations work too? Those responsibilities don’t seem related to me at all.”
“Of course they aren’t,” Preston said. “But we need to keep the research interests somewhat hidden. Let everyone think they’re still working solely on regulations work. It’s less interesting than a brand-new research project.”
“What’s the purpose of that?” Allison asked.
“The press.” Preston pursed his lips. “Lately, LyfeGen’s been kind of a leaky ship when it comes to keeping out the reporters. I want to ensure this project is kept under wraps for as long as possible. That serves a couple of purposes. First, we can hype it up once it hits a later stage of development, piquing interest in the product so the press doesn’t get bored with it too early. Second, should we deal with too much negative publicity, it gives us a wild card we might be able to use to deflect that attention and demonstrate our more progressive and protective research.”
Allison’s eyes were narrowed, but she nodded. “I can accept that. Though from a research standpoint, I don’t think that’s the best way to get it done. We’re a business, after all.”
Preston nodded. Shaw’s sentiments still haunted him. “That we are.”
“Speaking of which,” Jonathan said, “I think we can refute most of our current negative attention. See, I got this idea: it could be the doctor’s fault. Now, we all see the elephant in the room; we know that something seems amiss with the Sustain in Joel’s case, right? Well, when a celebrity dies, people get outraged, and they look for a scapegoat. The rumors are out there, the speculation’s there, too. Like you said, we’re a business and we’re taking a beating with this one. What if, just maybe, Joel’s doctor flubbed his procedure with the last Sustain update, leading to that stroke? You know, he could’ve made an elementary error like injecting an air bubble into Joel’s bloodstream.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Preston said. “I’ve worked with Dr. Hassan far too long to suspect that kind of error. He’s not only Joel’s primary, but mine and my family’s as well. I’d have a hard time believing that.”
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