by John Dysart
After filling up the car with a couple of dozen bottles from a few more vineyards, we arrived, late in the afternoon, at a set of large wrought iron gates obviously leading into a sizeable property. Pierre turned into the driveway and drove up through a long avenue of trees to stop the car on the gravel in front of a large mansion.
It was three stories high, completely symmetrical, with large multi-paned windows. Steps – about a dozen - curved up on either side to an immense glass-panelled front door.
The noise of our car arriving and stopping on the gravel must have alerted the occupants because as soon as Pierre got out of the car the door opened and an exceedingly attractive woman came out onto the steps. A slim, elegant brunette, probably in her early fifties, she was dressed casually in jeans and a light coloured blouse flowing free over a mid-blue tee-shirt. A puzzled expression at first, and then, clearly recognizing Pierre, a brilliant smile came over her face and she started to trot down the steps towards him.
I was almost sure I saw a brief hand gesture from Pierre as I followed him out of the car because she definitely slowed down her élan as she saw me and the smile took on a more normal expression – still a smile but slightly less sparkling.
“Pierre, what a lovely surprise,” she said, as she approached him and gave him an embrace on each cheek, holding both hands out to be taken by him.
“Madeleine, you look, as always, magnificent. I hope you don’t mind us dropping in. I thought we’d give you a surprise.”
“Not at all. It’s very nice to see you.”
She turned to me, welcomingly, and held out her hand while Pierre introduced us. I was introduced as Bob, a friend from Scotland.
It was clearly no problem for us to arrive unexpectedly and there would be absolutely no problem for us to stay the night.
“I presume Antoine is at home?”
“Of course”, she replied.” He’s in the library. He’ll be very glad to see you. Come on. We’ll go in. You can get your bags later.”
Madeleine’s English was almost fluent with just a tinge of a very attractive accent. I followed them up the steps noting how they were obviously so much at ease with each other.
“Come on, Bob. I want you to meet a very good and very old friend of mine,” said Pierre over his shoulder.
Madeleine ushered us into the library. It was a large high-ceilinged room with immense windows looking out over the gardens behind the house. The walls were covered with bookshelves full of, what seemed to me, to be hundreds of old volumes, mostly bound in leather and the majority looking as if they were anything between fifty and a hundred and fifty years old – the library of several generations.
Over by the window sat an alert, handsome man who looked about the same age as we were. He was, however, sitting in a wheelchair. He swivelled round as Madeleine breezed in with us.
“Antoine, unexpected guests – Pierre, with a friend.” she announced. “Pierre,” he cried with evident pleasure. They exchanged a few sentences in French which went over my head but I gathered that Pierre was explaining the reason for our surprise visit and he obviously also told him of my lack of French because they immediately switched to English.
“Bob, come over and let me introduce you to my very dear friend Baron Antoine de Clermont.”
Antoine shook my hand with a broad smile. “I’ve heard about you – the recently discovered brother if I understand correctly. Pierre has told me the whole story. Welcome to our humble abode.”
I warmed to him immediately just as I had when I had first met Pierre. I told him that Pierre hadn’t warned me where we were going and this was all a total and very pleasant surprise.
“Well, take a seat and make yourself at home.”
Apart from Sophie, Antoine was the first of Pierre’s friends that I had met and I was intrigued by him. Neat, intelligent and not in the least bit bothered about whatever ailment he had which had him imprisoned in a wheelchair. I was curious but didn’t want to enquire. After half an hour or so Antoine announced that he would be off to shower and change and he would see us at dinner.
“Pierre, you can give Bob the bedroom at the back looking out over the garden and I’ll see you later.”
He thereupon neatly circumvented the furniture and cruised out the door.
Madeleine came in a few moments later to announce that dinner would be in about three quarters of an hour.
“Pierre, feel free to tell Bob what happened to Antoine. He doesn’t like talking about it himself, as you know, but he is conscious of the fact that it’s better all round if people know and then any awkwardness is avoided.”
After she had left Pierre explained the story.
They had met about twenty years before when Pierre had been working on a major IT project at the pharmaceutical company where Antoine had been the marketing director. Antoine was a few years younger than Pierre and they were both single. They had got on very well together and had socialised outside work.
Then Antoine met Madeleine and they had got married. On the honeymoon in the south of France they had been staying in a villa in the country which had been lent to them by a friend. One morning Antoine had driven down to the village for provisions when, round a sharp bend, he had smashed into a tractor which had slowed down to turn into a field. The car was written off and Antoine was left completely paralysed from the waist down and condemned to a wheelchair.
“Madeleine has devoted herself to looking after him ever since,” he concluded.
*
Over dinner I learned a bit more about Antoine and began to appreciate him more and more. He was quick and had a sparkling wit – something not often found in a Frenchman. The conversation ranged over politics, his previous business career, wine and many other topics. I was made to feel completely welcome. I had to tell a little of my history and Pierre and I recounted how we had met and the dramatic consequences that had ensued.
Antoine no longer worked. He had had to leave his job at a big pharmaceutical company called LyonPharma and he had exercised his stock options and they had done well over the last ten years. I also discovered that he had invested some money in a small start-up medical research company which was based in Scotland. It was apparently run by a young lady who had worked for him in a previous job and who had decided to go home to Scotland and try her luck on a research idea she had.
“You never know,” said Antoine. “Maybe she’ll succeed and I’ll make a big return.”
That was what made me suddenly think of my grandson, Liam. I had just recently had an email from my son, Callum, out in Australia. He wondered if I could help find Liam some gainful employment in the UK because he wanted to take a year out before carrying on his studies. As he planned to go into scientific research it occurred to me that this could possibly be an opening for him.
I asked Antoine where the company was based and told me that it was on the Innovation Park on the Stirling University campus I explained to Antoine about Liam and asked him if he might be able to give me an introduction to this lady. I wondered if there might be an opening for Liam. He was more than happy to help. He said he would phone her in the morning before we left.
He was as good as his word and gave me the name and address of the company. If Liam sent a CV he would have a reply in a few days. It so happened that she was looking for someone as their research was going rather well.
We made our farewells the next morning and set off back to Geneva. The car boot still had a little room so we stopped off at Chateau Langlois and filled it with a dozen bottles of red.
It was on the journey back that I learned a little more about the Pierre, Antoine and Madeleine friendship.
Cruising down the A6 towards Lyon, Pierre brought the topic up.
“Something for your ears only, Bob,” he said, “but I think it would be better if you know.”
I looked across at him but his eyes were firmly on the road.
“You’ve probably guessed
,” he said
“Guessed what? That there is something between you and Madeleine?”
He smiled. “Yes. When I disappear from time to time for a weekend it’s because I go to see her.”
Having observed them yesterday I had had my suspicions.
Pierre explained. “In fact, I’d rather you knew. Antoine and Madeleine are very much in love with each other but Antoine does realise that he can’t give her the type of life she deserves. She is utterly devoted to him and wouldn’t dream of leaving but she can only really live half a life.”
“So you and Madeleine have something going and Antoine turns a blind eye?”
“Exactly. We never talk about it. He never asks any questions. He knows how much she has to sacrifice for him and how her life could have been different. It has just sort of happened.
“Antoine spoke to me once – and once only – and made me understand that he could accept it as long as it was discreet. He understood that Madeleine needed more than he could offer and, if there had to be someone else from time to time to give her a break from the burden of looking after him, he would rather it was me than someone else he didn’t know. We never talk about it when the three of us are together. It’s a bit as if I’m Madeleine’s safety valve, which, as a couple, they need.
“As for me, it suits me perfectly. You know that I never married again after my wife died. It was business, business, business. It doesn’t mean to say I didn’t have the odd fling, but nothing serious. And I’ve got used to the freedom of being a free agent. I am also very fond of Madeleine and being able to see each other every couple of months or so suits us very well.”
“Well, I think she’s great and I hope it continues to work well. It sounds like a very healthy triangle to me.”
It also made me reflect on the burgeoning relationship I had with Maggie. My wife, Liz, had died three years before and I had been resigned to a quiet widowhood until, just after I had met Pierre, Maggie had entered my life under somewhat strange circumstances. It was an issue that was going to need to be resolved. Pierre’s solution seemed to be rather attractive at first sight but, in our case, there was no Antoine – and I admit that I wasn’t yet sure how I wanted things to develop. That discussion was still to be had.
Chapter 4
Liam and I parked outside the residence where he had been staying and I left him to proceed with the loading of his effects into the car. He hadn’t much and there would be just enough room.
I then left him, asking him to go down to the bar to try to find out from Will if there might be any clues as to where Rémy had gone. I’d meet him there later.
I walked over to the Innovation Park where I hoped that Helen Mackie would be prepared to receive me.
Her company, BioScope, occupied a small corner on the ground floor of one of the several blocks on the site.
She did agree to receive me – but coldly. No smile, no offer of coffee. I had never met her before because Liam’s hiring had all been done by email and telephone but she knew who I was. Trim, attractive, mid- thirties and an open intelligent face, she sat behind her desk waiting for what I had to say and looking as if she had other things to do.
“Mrs. Mackie, I’ve come over to help Liam to remove his belongings from his room and I wanted to drop by to see you to express how sorry I am about what has happened. Liam explained to me last night how he seems to have accidentally been the cause of a major problem for you.”
No reaction. I tried again.
“I understand from Liam that you were very angry when you heard that LyonPharma had lodged a patent application practically identical to the one you were preparing and he told me that you accused him of passing on to them the details of your discovery. He said you were so angry that he didn’t get a chance to explain. He was so completely astounded that he couldn’t think straight at the time. I just want you to know that he didn’t do anything of the kind. Now that he’s had time to think about it he is convinced that he was set up.”
“What do you mean ‘set up’?”
A reaction, at least. Perhaps we could now have a conversation.
“Well, he has explained to me what he thinks might have happened. While he has been here he became friends with a young man called Rémy – a Frenchman. The night after you had made your accidental discovery he was just so pleased to have been a part of it that he went out for a few drinks in the Atrium to celebrate. His friend Rémy asked him why he was so cheerful and all he said was that that it was because he had helped BioScope solve a problem thanks to ‘ultra-violet’ lighting. That’s all he said. He saw absolutely no harm in it because he knew that Rémy knew nothing about science. He couldn’t see how on earth that that could possibly be the cause any problem.
“Apparently this man Rémy has suddenly disappeared. If the leak was through Liam that is the only way it could have happened.”
She was still looking severe.
“Isn’t it possible that LyonPharma just accidentally discovered the effect of ultra-violet by accident, the same as you did?”
She shook her head vigorously. ”Impossible.”
“In that case,” I went on “Liam is absolutely certain that Rémy was the conduit of the information back to them. He himself has had absolutely no contact with them whatsoever.”
Helen Mackie lent forward in her chair.
“Mr. Bruce,” she said “I don’t really care what happened now. There is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
“A patent is only granted for a product that is new and unique and it’s ‘first come, first served’. LyonPharma has made their application. There is no point in us doing the same now. It wouldn’t be granted and, anyway, I can’t afford the expense of the eighteen months wait as nobody would continue to finance me now.
“As you can imagine I’m totally sick about the whole business. Fortunately we have two other projects of considerable potential and we are now concentrating our efforts on them. If what you and Liam say is true, then I’m sorry. He is a bright boy and perhaps this will teach him a lesson. In any case there is no way I’m taking him back if that’s what you were hoping.”
“No. That’s not why I came. In any case Liam feels so bad about it that that he feels he couldn’t come back anyway.”
“Well that’s all there is to it then, isn’t it?”
“Not quite,” I replied. “Would you bear with me for just a few more minutes and then I’ll leave you to your work?”
She looked across at me, glanced at her watch. “Two or three minutes,” she said reluctantly.
“Mrs. Mackie, I was a financial consultant. I’m not a scientist. So could you just confirm what Liam told me? He said that Bioscope was working on a new improved delivery system for two molecules which, if successful, would be a major breakthrough in the treatment of Alzheimer’s. The idea was to find a way of fusing together two existing molecule, whose properties are well known, hoping that the new compound would do the job you wanted it to do.”
“That’s more or less correct. It’s not a very scientific description of years of research but, yes, that’s right.”
“The properties of the individual molecules are in the public domain and the only problem was finding out how to fuse them together.”
She nodded her head.
“LyonPharma was working on the same project.”
“Correct.”
“And you both knew how far each of you had got?”
“We didn’t know precisely how far they had got but we had a pretty good idea. Research chemists meet each other at conferences and they get chatting. Everybody has a pretty good idea what the others are working on. The last I heard was that they were working in more or less the same direction as we had been before we made our accidental discovery.”
“That was the totally unexpected effect that ultra-violet light had on these molecules?”
“Yes. LyonPharma could never have worked their way to that. It wa
s so ‘off-piste’ that it’s impossible. As far as I know they were the only other company working on such a project. There must have been a leak through Liam whether we like it or not.”
I got up ready to go. “Thank you. Once again, I’m very sorry for what has happened but I’m absolutely convinced that Liam was a victim rather than the perpetrator and I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.”
“Well perhaps he was, but so what?” she said, shaking me by the hand. “There’s no way you’ll be able to prove it. There’s nothing that can be done. They’ve lodged their application for a patent. The authorities are not interested in how the company got their information. Nor would the police be. I know that Dugain – he’s the PDG of LyonPharma - has a reputation of, let’s say, being a rough businessman, but hearsay is no use to me. All I’m interested in is the success of my company. Fortunately we have, as I said, two other projects we’re working on. As far as I’m concerned if you want to try to find out exactly what happened then go ahead. That’s fine by me but it won’t change anything as far as I’m concerned.”
We were by now in the entrance hall.
“Before I go, may I just ask you one last thing?”
She waited.
“Can you tell me who your shareholders are?”
“Apart from myself and my partner there are two Venture Capital companies from Edinburgh and, as you know, Antoine de Clermont. Why?”
“What were their reactions when they heard?”
“They were all as upset as my partner and I.”
With that she escorted me to the door and bid me goodbye.
As I wandered back across the campus to my car I mused over our conversation and the fact that it seemed I had unconsciously come to the decision to get to the bottom of this whole story. Maybe get the gang back together again. Pierre, Mike and I had succeeded last time, why not again?