Pushing Brilliance

by Tim Tigner

  “It certainly has cachet.”

  Vondreesen gestured toward the staircase. “Please join me in the library. It’s also rather special.”

  Chapter 63

  Duped

  VONDREESEN LED US up the left semicircular staircase, past St. George and the mammoth wrought-iron chandelier and through oversized double-doors into the grand library beyond, where polished hardwood floors and rich oriental rugs treated our eyes. Classic floor-to ceiling bookshelves surrounded us, complete with rolling oak ladders, but our eyes flew to the opposite wall and grew wide.

  A glass, semicircular wall bowed out into the room, running floor to ceiling and dancing with flames. The enormous ultra-modern fireplace reminded me of a commercial aquarium, but with flames rather than fish. It was a spectacular centerpiece, and made the library a memorable place to entertain Silicon Valley’s most distinguished. No doubt that was Vaughn’s intent. “There’s a natural gas field on the property,” he continued, in answer to an unstated question. “It’s not large enough to justify a commercial effort, but it is sufficient to keep the home fire burning for decades.”

  “Why are we hardly feeling any heat?” Katya asked, as we accepted seats around the central of the three coffee tables situated before it.

  “The glass wall is double-paned, with a vacuum in between, and the glass itself is coated with infrared film. I wouldn’t mind a bit more heat myself, but it wouldn’t be good for the books.” He plucked a smoldering stogie from the oddest looking ashtray I’d ever seen, and took a puff to keep it lit. Following my eye toward the softball sized hunk of pockmarked stone, he said, “It’s a moon rock.”

  “Never heard of them. Do they do something to the smoke?”

  Vondreesen smiled at my misunderstanding. “It’s literally a rock from the moon. A gift from … well, I shouldn’t say.”

  “And you use it as an ashtray?”

  “At first I just had it on the table for display purposes. Then a guest mistook it for an ashtray, and, well …”

  He picked up the mini-tablet that lay beside the moon rock and asked us, “Coffee? Espresso? Something stronger?” He swiped the screen as if planning to place our order electronically.

  I caught a glimpse of the display before his first stroke. It showed live images of the barbican from the dragon’s and frog’s points of view. Perhaps that explained why a man who lived in a castle and could order up drinks on a tablet would answer his own door. “Black coffee would be great. And I’m guessing Katya would appreciate some chamomile tea, if it’s no trouble.”

  She gave me a smile. “Please.”

  Vondreesen tapped his screen. “Melanie, two black coffees and some chamomile tea, please.”

  He set the tablet down with a reverent touch of pride. “Now, how can I help you?”

  This was the big moment.

  The moment for which I’d traveled halfway around the world and back.

  The moment that could change the course of my life, sending it either into the freedom of the open seas, or crashing onto the rocks. At the very least, Vondreesen’s reaction would be a barometer of my odds of avoiding jail. “As you may be aware, I’ve been granted bail in order to investigate my family’s death. In that context, I wanted to learn more about Vitalis Pharmaceuticals. Specifically, why it folded.”

  Vondreesen picked up his cigar, found it lacking, and rekindled it with a torch lighter. Turning to Katya he said, “No worries,” and motioned upward with his chin. “The ventilation system scrubs the air.”

  Turning back to me, he nodded solemnly, a grave expression on his charismatic face. Compassion and wisdom, with perhaps a hint of fear around the corners of his eyes. “You think Vitalis might somehow be connected to your tragedy?”

  “It’s a common denominator, shared by both my father and my brother. The police are looking at me due to economic motives, so naturally I’m looking into others.”

  “I see. Well, as you pointed out, Vitalis folded. It’s bankrupt. Its shares are virtually worthless.”

  “In the US. But what about abroad? We’ve learned that the clinical trial only wrapped up last week.”

  “Is that what this is about?” He leaned back and blew smoke for a couple of beats. “Megan told me you stopped by, which means you know my office is still working, even though I retired at the end of last year. I believe she explained the logic behind that decision to you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, the same goes for Vitalis. The clinical trial was prepaid, and the Russian Ministry of Health requires follow through, so we let it play out. No reason not to. Plenty of reason to let it run. It’s my fiduciary responsibility to recover whatever I can for my investors, and that includes the sale of assets. Clinical trial results fall into that category.”

  I kept a friendly expression, but put some bite in my tone. “I can see that. But you still haven’t answered my original question.” I didn’t repeat it. Vondreesen knew full well what it was, and of course he knew exactly why Vitalis folded.

  Just then a woman walked into the room through a large oak door to the right of the fire, carrying a silver tray with a matching teapot, a French press full of coffee, three bone china cups on platinum-rimmed saucers, and a silver bowl of coco-dusted chocolate truffles. Melanie looked like she might be Megan’s sister, and I wonder if Vaughn had collected the set. She unloaded the tray onto the coffee table, smiling at Katya while setting down the truffles. She poured the tea and coffee, then disappeared without a word.

  Glancing up from the table, Vondreesen seemed surprised to see us looking back at him. His eyes went back and forth between us as though he was searching for something. For a good five seconds, I watched him struggle mentally while his face turned from confused to panicked. Then all at once his eyes lit up and his normal expression returned. It was as though his mind had suddenly tuned back in to its previous channel.

  He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, cupping his right hand over his left so the cigar jutted out like a lance. Meeting my eye, he said, “Vitalis folded because I got duped.”

  Chapter 64

  Synthetic

  I LEFT MY COFFEE where it lay, and repeated Vondreesen’s words. “You got duped. My family was murdered, and you tell me ‘you got duped.’ What the hell does that even mean?”

  Two men appeared in the same doorway through which Melanie had disappeared, like guard dogs sensing a threatening change in tone. They weren’t wearing suit coats or wraparound shades, but otherwise they appeared to have come from the same store as our earlier acquaintances. It could be a coincidence. Google bodyguard and big, beefy, crewcut was the image you got, more often than not with a black suit and sunglasses.

  But I wasn’t a believer in coincidences.

  A part of me wanted them to intervene, giving me a chance to turn this discussion into an interrogation after working off some pent-up aggression. But Vondreesen held up a palm, and they backed off through the door. The scene reminded me of the way some guys will pull back their coat to reveal a concealed carry. Tactically, it was just as stupid a move.

  Vondreesen seemed to sense this and dove right into the answer to my question. “Brillyanc wasn’t my creation, you understand. It was brought to me. I’m a venture capitalist, not a biomedical researcher. An investor, not an inventor.”

  It was sad to see the great Vaughn Vondreesen making excuses. But I wasn’t going to let the sympathy card distract me. It did get me wondering, however, if the castle was the late-life crisis equivalent of the mid-life crisis Ferrari, or something else entirely. “Surely you performed due diligence? In-depth analysis before pouring in millions of OPM?”

  Katya recoiled at my words. “Hold on. I didn’t know Colin was working with narcotics. That adds a whole new dimension to things.”

  “Not opium,” Vondreesen said. “O.P.M. Other People’s Money. And Achilles, actually VC’s invest all the time without knowing if a compound is going to work. You can’t definitively
determine the efficacy of a new compound without performing clinical trials, and clinical trials are very expensive. That said, efficacy wasn’t the problem.”

  “It wasn’t?” Katya and I said in chorus.

  “No. Brillyanc works. Beautifully, in fact. The problem was its formulation.”

  It was my turn to recoil. “The formulation? You mean the list of ingredients? Surely you didn’t invest without knowing that?”

  “No, of course not. But as I said, I was duped. The formula we were given for due diligence wasn’t the same as the formulation used in the previous clinical trials — the preclinical studies, and the Phase I and II trials. It was almost the same, but a couple of amino acid side chains were different, and they make all the difference.”

  “You’re saying they disclosed actual clinical results, but shared the wrong formulation?”

  “Exactly. And furthermore, as part of the deal, we agreed to continue with their contract manufacturer — who used the original formulation without our knowledge. The result was that we didn’t detect the discrepancy until we were a year into it, and then only because Colin was at the top of his game.”

  “What does it matter? Once you found out, couldn’t you switch to the correct formulation?”

  “If only! But no. Two reasons. One was the patents, all of which were filed around the wrong compound. That was critical, but not necessarily lethal. The other, however, was vital.” Vondreesen, relaxing a little now that his story was flowing, took a few long puffs on his cigar before continuing. “Ask yourself why the inventors would do that? Why would they pull a switcheroo?”

  I was willing to play along for now. But I wouldn’t be leaving without the answers I’d come for. Barbicans and black suits didn’t frighten me. Life in jail did. “You implied that it wasn’t patents. So I’d guess that it was to get you to pay for the clinical trials, but not actually own anything of value in the end.” I felt I’d found a thread, so I shifted my gaze to the flames and kept pulling it. “They’d keep two sets of books, so to speak, and leave you holding the bad ones while they run off to the bank with the good ones.” I saw it now. I was getting excited. “My brother discovered this. He told my dad. The inventors found out and killed them to keep the se–” I cut myself off. My hopes dashed. “They killed them after Vitalis folded. There was no secret to keep at that point.”

  Vondreesen grew a ‘nice try’ smile.

  Katya threw her idea into the ring. “They knew you wouldn’t invest if you knew the real formulation.”

  “Correct.”

  “Because there’s something that would prevent you from marketing the real formulation. Something other than efficacy or intellectual property.”

  “Correct again.”

  Katya and I each stared into the flames, racking our brains. This wasn’t a twist I’d anticipated. After a minute we looked at each other. Neither of us had a clue. I started thinking aloud. “You said the product works, so we’ll assume there’s demand. Unless the actual formulation is too expensive?”

  Vondreesen shook his head. “The pricing is inelastic. There are enough buyers to support a healthy business at virtually any price point.”

  “Okay. Well, we also know they can manufacture it, so we’ll assume there’s supply. If it’s not supply or demand, what’s left?”

  “A regulatory issue,” Katya said.

  “It’s all of the above,” Vondreesen said. “The difference between the formulations was the difference between organic and synthetic. The formula they showed us was synthetic. The actual formula is organic, and it can’t be synthesized. At least not with current technology.”

  “So what? You told me that price doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s right. It’s not an issue of price. It’s an issue of source. Unlike, say insulin, which came from pigs and cattle before it was synthesized, one of Brillyanc's key ingredients comes from an endangered species. The gallbladder of a sun bear, to be precise. Sun bears are the small ones that look like Winnie the Pooh, by the way.” He spread his arms wide and rolled his eyes. “So out of the blue, we found ourselves with an insurmountable supply issue, a potential demand issue, and a killer regulatory issue.”

  “Three strikes and you’re out,” I muttered, as the implications began crashing down like the big stone blocks of castle walls.

  Chapter 65

  Vanishing Act

  VONDREESEN SHOWED SIGNS of relaxing after dropping his bomb. His complexion improved and his facial wrinkles faded. I suspected that my appearance had gone in the opposite direction.

  “Three strikes and you’re out,” Vondreesen repeated. “That’s exactly right.”

  “Four, now that I think about it,” I added. “In addition to a supply issue, a demand issue, and a regulatory issue, the public-opinion referees have you for ethics violations to boot.”

  “No choice but to fold,” Katya said. “Now I understand why Colin was so confident one day, and so despondent the next. There was nothing he could do about it.”

  “Was this why you retired?” I asked Vondreesen.

  Vondreesen blew out smoke and shook his head at the memory. “It was humiliating and it was discouraging. I let a lot of people down.”

  “That explains everything. Everything except the most important thing.” I turned in my chair to face Vondreesen full-on. “Why would they kill my family, if there was nothing to protect?”

  Vondreesen shrugged. “I asked myself that question six months ago, when it happened, and I asked myself that question six minutes ago, when you arrived. I got the same answer both times. They wouldn’t. I can only conclude that your family’s death was not related to Vitalis.”

  If that was true, I was screwed. I had no other leads.

  But I knew it wasn’t true.

  The murders of Dr. Tarasova and her husband made the connection clear. “Who are they?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  Vondreesen collapsed back into his chair, spreading his arms and exposing his chest with his hands extended well over the sides. “Anonymity was a big deal to them. Frankly, I don’t think they even needed the money. What they needed was an American face. They chose mine, and I agreed because the product was so spectacular.”

  “You mean you let greed override your better judgment?”

  Vondreesen met my verbal jab with a remorseful smile so genuine that it might have saved Nixon. What a politician. “You have to understand, that’s what VC’s do. We spend our lives looking for investments with the potential for phenomenal return. That’s our opium. Our bliss and our addiction. Brillyanc was the biggest deal I saw in thirty years.”

  “Who are they?” I repeated.

  “They’re Russian. That’s all I know. They did everything through an offshore corporation that no longer exists. The officers who signed the forms were straw men. Caribbean islanders paid for their time.”

  “Isn’t that suspicious?”

  “If you look at it as venture capital, it’s atypical. But if you look at it as a large financial transaction by a wealthy party, it’s commonplace. I wasn’t suspicious until Colin made his discovery. Then they disappeared, and we shut it down.”

  “What do you mean, they disappeared?”

  “Their phone number and email server went out of service. All contact was severed. Recourse became impossible.”

  “And all that happened before my family was murdered?”

  “Months before.”

  I had no idea where to take the discussion. This wasn’t what I was expecting — and apparently my Brillyanc had worn off. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about my decision to post bail.

  I looked over at Katya. She nodded back at me. We were done here. “Thank you for your time, Vaughn. Enjoy your castle.”

  Chapter 66

  Forgetfulness

  WE SAT QUIETLY as I backed away from the moat and headed down the winding drive, the gravel crunching benea
th the Tesla’s tires while Vondreesen’s words reverberated in our ears. The moment we touched pavement, however, Katya hit me with, “What did you think of Vondreesen’s story?”

  I replied in a tone that showed my frustration. “It explains everything, and it leaves us nowhere. I feel like a reporter who interviewed a presidential candidate. I know I’ve been fed a salad of truth and lies, but I’m struggling to separate the mix. What did you think?”

  Katya twisted in her seat so that she could face me, and drew her knees up toward her chest. “The use of endangered species in medicine rings true enough. I’m not familiar with sun bears, but in Russia we hear about endangered fish often enough, due to our love of caviar. Sun bear gallbladder sounds like an Asian thing to me — lots of traditional medicine there for sure. Anyway, it would certainly explain Colin's reaction and Vitalis’s sudden demise.”

  I concurred and watched picturesque vineyards roll by on the left and right. I was trying to remember something I knew I was forgetting. It wouldn’t come. The memory-palace technique I’d drilled in prison only applied to things I deliberately worked to memorize.

  The helpless frustration I was feeling made me think of Max, cut off from Brillyanc just shy of completing his dissertation. His words rang truer than ever: I would pay anything.

  God, what a nightmare Alzheimer’s must be.

  I was sorely tempted to stop at one of the beautiful wineries we were passing for a glass of pinot noir and a few minutes of reflection, but we didn’t have time. I’d have to hope the drive jogged my memory, and settle for whatever red they served on the plane.

  I decided to attempt tricking my mind into relaxing. “Sun bears are the smallest bears, but they have the longest tongues for eating honey.”

  “How in the world do you know that?” Katya asked. “Did you used to work at a zoo?”

  “No. I was into Winnie the Pooh as a kid. What did you think of the rest of Vondreesen’s story?”