“Yes.”
“You’ve had run-ins with her?”
“We discussed security measures. She, like many others at PAT, didn’t understand my job. I tried to make her understand.”
“I’m sure you did,” Matt said.
“Where were you between the hours of nine and eleven on the night Lisa Gomez was killed?” asked Shelly.
“I was with a lady friend.”
“Does she have a name?” Matt asked.
“It’s Holly Day or Holiday or whatever. I’m not sure. She works at the Beaver Club in Oakland. I’m sure you’ll find her, and I guarantee,” he said straightening up and stroking his beard, “that she’ll remember me.”
Shelly felt nauseated. “Have there been any threats to PAT or its staff?”
“Not really. We had to let a few people go. They weren’t happy about that. And then we have the crazies opposed to genetic research; who knows what they might do.”
“Who monitors information coming and going from PAT?”
“Information?”
“Correspondence, phone calls, emails, stuff like that.”
“Our computer support group does that under my direction. What we do, and how we do it, is proprietary, I’m afraid. I won’t talk about it without a subpoena or direction from Kendall. I think you understand.”
“We certainly do,” Matt said.
“Do you carry a firearm?”
“Yes. I have a carry permit. Do you want to see it?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Shelly said. “Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill Lisa?”
“No. She was a quiet, dedicated scientist. Her untimely death is a loss to us all.”
“Thank you, Karl. We’ll get back to you with permission or a subpoena for that information we requested.”
“I’m happy to help.”
“One more question,” said Matt.
“What now,” Muller sneered.”
“It’s just that you’ve been so cooperative, that I…
“What is it?”
“You knew Raymond Fish?”
“I answered all those questions after he was assaulted.”
“You didn’t get along with him either,”Matt said.
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“You don’t play well with others, Karl,” Shelly said, “and it seems that bad things happen to them.”
“Did I love Ray Fish? Hell no, he was a goddamn commie and wanted nothing better but to screw us up at PAT. I don’t know what happened to him, and between you and me, I don’t give a damn.”
After Muller left, Matt turned to Shelly. “I’d sure like to nail that fucker.”
“He’s obnoxious for sure, but I don’t see a motive and he has an alibi.”
Matt stroked his chin with one hand. “I hate to say this, Shelly, but maybe we’re a bit myopic when it comes to Karl Muller.”
“How so. He’s so obvious.”
“Too obvious. Muller’s muscle for sure, but I can’t see him as a prime motivator in any complex conspiracy. Somebody else has to be calling the shots.”
“Who?”
Matt closed Muller’s folder. “Who has most to gain or lose in the research at PAT? That would be the company itself, the parent company, Kendall Pharmaceuticals, and David Birch.”
“Birch?”
“It’s difficult to believe that scientific disagreements could go beyond angry words and hurt feelings, but David and Lisa didn’t get along and she accused him of unethical practice in the research lab. I think we need to meet with him at least.”
“I’ll set it up for this afternoon.”
“Neither of us fully understands the pharmaceutical business, but Terri does. There are megabucks on the table for a company like Kendall. Who knows what they’d be willing to do to protect themselves.”
“I don’t know,” Shelly said. “Kendall has too much at stake to risk involvement in something as messy as murder.”
“You’ll track down Karl’s friend?”
“Do you want to do it?”
“If I’m going to a strip club, it’s better that I go with someone to prove that it was strictly business.”
“Is Terri that insecure?”
“No. It’s me. I don’t want to screw this one up. I think Terri is the one.”
“I’ll distribute the Kleenex tissues to your fan club.”
“Dr. Birch, this is Detective Shelly Kahn from the Berkeley Police. I’d like a word with you.”
“Of course, what can I do for you?”
“If you’re free, we’d like to see you this afternoon.”
“Can’t we do this on the phone? I’m quite busy, you see.”
“If you’d prefer to come to our downtown offices, I’ll arrange for a squad car to pick you up.”
Birch began to sweat. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll tell security to expect you at three.”
“See you then.”
What in hell is that all about? thought Birch.
Matt drove through bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-80, exiting at The Marina.
Matt breathed deeply. “I love the smell of the bay in this area.”
“Except at low tide.”
“If you like the sea, Shelly, you especially like the fulsome aroma of low tide.”
Shelly showed her badge to the PAT security guard who directed them to Birch’s office.
Shelly extended her hand. “I’m detective Kahn and this is Matt Hollis who’s assisting me in this investigation.”
“You mean Lisa Gomez’s death. That was horrible—tragic.” He moved behind his desk and indicated the two chairs. “How can I help you?”
“We’re trying to get more background on Ms. Gomez. How well did you know her?”
“Lisa worked for me. I was her immediate supervisor.”
“So you worked closely with her,” said Matt.
“We had a professional relationship. I hope you’re not implying anything improper.”
“Of course not,” Shelly said, smiling. “Would you say you were friendly?”
“Cordial. I would choose the word cordial.”
“Nevertheless, even in cordial professional relationships, conflict may exist from time to time,” Matt said.
“I don’t know what you mean by conflict,” David said touching his face.
Matt shook his head. “Oh please, Doctor, nobody’s talking about a physical confrontation—unless there’s something you’d like to tell us.”
“Who have you been talking to?” David said turning red. He turned to Shelly. “What’s he saying?”
“Please, Doctor. Take it easy,” Shelly said in a soft voice, “but, to tell the truth, you haven’t been exactly candid with us.”
“Perhaps I should consult my attorney.”
“That’s your right,” Shelly said, “but it intrigues me why you think you need one.”
“Are you accusing me of something?”
Matt stood. “Maybe we should take this downtown, doctor. We just want some straightforward answers.”
“That won’t be necessary. What do you want to know?”
“It’s common knowledge,” Matt said, “that you fought with Lisa Gomez. Are you denying it?”
“We didn’t fight. We had an academic disagreement. That’s part of the give and take of a research laboratory where people often have differing views.”
“She accused you of unethical practice,” Matt said. “That would sure piss me off.”
“Ridiculous? She was a young woman with limited experience in handling experimental data. I tried to straighten her out.”
“Where were you on the night Lisa Gomez was murdered?” Shelly asked.
“You can’t believe that I had anything to do with that.”
“Where were you?” Matt asked.
“I was at home reading.”
“Can anyone confirm that for us?” Shelly asked.
“No. I live alone.”
Matt stood and leaned across the desk. “Did your argument have anything to do with PAT’s research on the use of BCG? We have notes, emails, a video and the series of numbers and letters, 82A42J48. Does that mean anything to you?”
David stared at the number-letter sequence. “I have no idea what it means. As for our studies, I’m afraid that information’s proprietary. I’d need a release from PAT and its parent company, Kendall Pharmaceuticals before I can say anything.”
Matt smirked. “That’s convenient.”
David turned to Shelly. “Who is this man? I don’t like his attitude.”
“He’s just trying to do his job, Doctor,” Shelly said with a smile. “Sometimes, he gets on my nerves too.”
“Is there anything else?” David asked.
“You don’t mind if we get a sample of your DNA, do you?” Matt asked.
“I certainly do. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
Outside, Shelly smiled. “DNA—that was a good one. We don’t have anything to match.”
“That officious prick just pissed me off. I wanted to give him something to think about.”
“I don’t think Doctor Birch is capable of violence,” Shelly said. “Do you?”
“No, but he’s hiding something.”
Back in Birch’s lab, David jotted down the sequence: 82A42J48. What is that? Lisa, what have you done?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Terri drove Abbie to school in heavy traffic. When they arrived, Terri hugged her daughter. “You won’t forget what Matt and I told you, will you?”
“No mother,” she said reaching for the car door.
Terri held her arm. “Wait a sec. No talking with strangers. If someone says that I’ve been hurt in an accident or I sent them to pick you up...”
“You’re trying to frighten me.”
“A little.”
“If I don’t hear from you or Matt in person or by cell, I’m not going anywhere with anybody.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you too, Mommy.”
When Terri arrived at San Francisco General Hospital, Patty Herman, Terri’s assistant, pointed to the appointment book. “You have three interviews this morning.”
They were in the third month and had enrolled eight patients into a study that called for a maximum of sixteen.
Terri knew their heartbreaking stories by heart. Each was a variant of her own experience with Richie and his melanoma although none had progressed as quickly.
“Eight spots left,” Patty said. “When will we close enrollment?”
“We have twenty on the list. I think we’ll finish some time next week.”
“I can’t stand the thought of excluding patients. This study may offer them one final chance.”
“It’s a study, Patty. Not approved treatment. We must discover if it’s effective and safe. It’s good to be optimistic about what we’re doing, but we can’t lose our objectivity.”
The door to the office burst open and a small, bearded, middle-aged man entered. Terri flashed on the beard and had the image of Karl Muller, and then she recognized him. It was Hector Garcia. “Mr. Garcia, I have nothing further to say to you.” She turned to Patty. “Call security.”
“Like hell you will,” Hector said ripping the phone from Patty’s hands. “If you think I’m going to stand by and watch Anna die, you’re nuts.”
“Hector, please,” Terri said. “I told you that I’d do everything in my power to help her.”
“Put her in your study.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can. You’re the boss. It’s your study. You can do whatever you want.”
“Anna’s condition disqualifies her from the BCG study. We have strict admission criteria, and she fails to meet them.”
“That’s a load of shit,” he said as his eyes filled. “We’ve done everything. We’ve gone everywhere. She’s dying and you are her last chance.”
“Are you okay?” came the shout through the door. “This is security, Dr. Powell. Are you okay?”
Garcia returned to the door and locked it. He pulled a handgun from his pocket. “I’m armed. Don’t come in.”
“God, Hector, what are you doing?” Terri said.
While his attention was focused on Terri, Patty moved toward the door.
“Don’t,” Hector shouted. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will if you make me.”
“Put her in your clinical trial,” he said, pointing the gun at Terri.
“No.”
“Put her in,” he said moving closer and pointing the barrel at Terri’s head.
“I can’t and I won’t,” she said clenching her fists. “Anna’s positive test for tuberculosis and her recent use of cortisone means that the BCG vaccination can kill her.”
“What about compassionate usage. Maybe they’ll give it to her outside the study.”
Terri stepped close to Hector.
He raised the pistol toward her face.
Terri looked into the black bore of the semiautomatic 9 mm pistol and felt nothing but revulsion toward the vicious weapon. She felt Hector’s inconsolable misery, but his reckless rage, so stupid, so senseless inflamed her growing sense of powerlessness primed by last night’s phone call and the threat to everything she held dear.
I won’t be a victim, this time or ever, Terri thought.
Terri felt her muscles tighten...tension building...waiting for the explosion...waiting to strike.
“Put that fucking thing down while you can, Hector,” Terri screamed. “I won’t be responsible for what happens to you or to Anna if you do this thing. I’ll...”
Terri watched the freeze-frame movie—Hector’s arm descending, the pistol pointing to the floor, and its thud as it fell onto the plush carpet.
Patty rushed to the door and unlocked it.
Two uniformed security guards grabbed Hector, twisted his arms behind his back and cuffed him.
As Hector raised his pleading eyes toward Terri, she said, “I’ll do everything I can for Anna. Please Hector, trust me.”
Hector nodded once then walked away with a guard on each arm.
“That was awful,” Patty said.
“That was desperation. I know it. I’ve felt it. I’m doing everything to eliminate it.”
“If the public knew how well our patients were doing on the BCG vaccination, we’d have a riot on our hands.”
Terri shook her head. “They can’t know. Everything we’ve seen, as remarkable as it is, is too preliminary. Anything could happen including recurrence and late complications.”
“What about Samantha Fox?”
“If I went to grand rounds and showed her chest x-rays three months ago with nine quarter-sized tumor masses and compared them to today’s films showing clear lung fields, doctors wouldn’t believe it. It’s too dramatic.”
“That’s only part of what we’ve seen,” Patty said. “Our results have been spectacular. How long can we go on this way before we reveal our findings?”
“This isn’t a controlled double-blind study. We know what’s going on and so do our patients. If we continue to see such incredible results, we’ll have to release our results to the public.”
“What about FDA approval?” Patty asked. “Can’t they ‘Fast-track’ it?”
“Sure they can,” Terri said. “Every year they rush through a dozen or so medications that appear useful and safe. They’ve done that with many cancer medications especially, but under less than ethical scrutiny, they’ve also approved drugs like Vioxx that killed 55,000 users before they pulled it from the market.”
“When will PAT and Kendall receive our preliminary data?”
“I sent it out yesterday. They’re going to be overjoyed with the results and I’ll bet that their lobbyists will be camping on the FDA’s door by next week.”
“What about the mouse studies, especially the late complications?”
“I don’t know what to do, Pat
ty. First, those findings are from PAT, not from us. Second, we’ve seen nothing like that in our patients, and finally, do we want to be responsible for holding a treatment so promising from the market without a good reason?”
“That’s great soul-searching, Terri. What did you actually do?”
“I included a note for them to check with Evan Klack about these late findings.”
“I think we can live with that.”
“I hope our patients can, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Where’s Richard Kendall?” David Birch snapped at his secretary for the fifth time.
“His assistant says he’ll be back in the office by 10 a.m.”
“Try it again.”
She buzzed David. “He’s on line two.”
“Have you seen it?” David asked.
“Yes, it’s unbelievable. I’m used to looking at tables of data and statistical analysis, but we don’t need that here.”
“I’ve been doing clinical research for years,” David said, “and we’ve never seen anything like it except with the first introduction of Penicillin.”
“I’m looking at the x-rays and scans of patients treated with the BCG vaccine, patients with widespread malignant melanoma. The before and after pictures are amazing. Patients with tumors in the liver, lungs, and brain at the start of the study and afterward showing no further evidence of the disease.”
“We need to temper our enthusiasm, Richard. It’s a two-year study and we’re only four months into it. We still don’t know if the effects will last and what late complications may arise.”
“Let’s get real, David,” Richard said. “We’re dealing with terminal cancer patients. How long do you think we can keep these kinds of results away from the public? I don’t know if we should try. Don’t you think we have a moral obligation to make this treatment available as quickly as possible?”
“I’m no saint, but I’m paranoid enough to think ahead to the possibility that it won’t work long term, or patients will develop unacceptable complications. A four-month study isn’t enough.” He hesitated a moment then continued. “Kendall’s stock has increased substantially in the last year. This is in your ballpark, but what will the SEC do if on rumor, the stock climbs even further?”
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