When he had gained entry, he was disappointed to see the case did not contain any dirty pictures as he had hoped. It only had some scientific shit about drugs. He scanned through the material. He read it again several times more carefully, and he began to realize that he might have something here after all. It looked to him, and he was certainly no expert, that Court’s drug trial was not producing any results. This was not the explosive information he had been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. He would take it in to Maurie Cullen on Monday and see what his editor thought.
* * * *
Harper and Morgan had a leisurely pancake breakfast on Sunday morning, tidied up the house, and left in the early afternoon to drive back to the city. She was anxious to spend a night in her own bed and check on things at her house. She agreed to meet Morgan at his office on Monday morning. She needed time to think about how she felt about all that had happened in the last few weeks. A deep love for Morgan had crept into her heart even though she had tried to armor it against him. The man had a way of crashing through her defenses like a pillaging Viking. She had to be glad that he didn’t take no for an answer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morgan Court’s Office at Court Industries, New York City, Monday, November 25, 2013, 8:30 a.m.
Morgan had his secretary get John McGregor, the head of security, into his office at eight thirty sharp. He handed him the samples Harper had liberated from Eastern Shore Research Laboratory for testing.
“John, I want you to get these samples down to the lab to be run through the mass spectrometer, and also investigate the ownership of Eastern Shore, as well as all of their employees. Harper and I think that the best explanation for the lack of any results in the clinical trial is that the drugs being used are possibly all placebos. We can’t think of any other reason that there were no results at all, good or bad.”
“On it, boss. I wish I had thought of that myself. I’ll get these samples down to the lab immediately and tell Toshimi to put a rush on it. I’ll wait for the mass spec results and get back to you.”
By the time Morgan had finished with John, Harper had arrived at his office with a bag of donuts. She poured them each a cup of coffee and took a seat across from him. “Thank you for the wonderful weekend, Morgan. I had a great time.”
“No, thank you. If you hadn’t snagged those samples, we still wouldn’t have a lead on what’s going on. I’m waiting to hear from our lab.” He got up and shut his door then he turned to Harper and took her into his arms for a stunning good morning kiss. “I missed you last night. I’ve gotten used to having you in my arms.”
“And I’ve gotten used to being there.”
* * * *
Harmon Burke sat across from Maurie Cullen in the cramped and smelly office at the World Tipster that gave even him the creeps. He wondered what horrors lived under the messy piles of paper, old food wrappers, and empty coffee cups. He watched as Maurie read through the material a second time. “Where did you get this stuff, Burke?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Come to think about it, no. I suppose I don’t. Let’s just say it’s from a ‘confidential source’ and let it go at that. Let me run this by someone I know with a scientific background, and then maybe we can put something out on the AP wire, under your byline of course. I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, write up a story for release.” He had a shifty look on his face that Harmon didn’t particularly like. The thought of a story based on stolen material with his name on it gave him pause for thought, but this was what he had been waiting and working for—some national exposure.
“Thanks, Maurie. Let me know what you decide. In the meantime, I’ll put a story together. And I plan to keep on Court’s and Cameron’s butts. They seem to be joined at the hip lately anyway. I followed him into the office this morning and saw Cameron go in about a half hour later.” Shit. Wish I could be a fly on the wall. And he really did. He wished he knew what they made of the missing briefcase. The prompt visit of the village police cruiser Saturday night had really given him a scare. He had hoped they wouldn’t notice the briefcase was gone until at least this morning. Now, here comes a story about the drug trial not producing results with his name on it based on material from the stolen briefcase. It was going to look suspicious. Well, freedom of the press.
* * * *
Morgan looked up as John McGregor rushed into his office without knocking. McGregor was so excited he could hardly pause to breathe. “Boss, you guys were right. Toshimi says all the pills in the bottles we gave her to test are sugar pills. All placebos. Apparently none of the text subjects have been getting the actual Maxprotem.”
Morgan should not have been shocked, but he was nonetheless. Although he and Harper had thought that scenario made the most sense, he had not really thought the answer to the question of why the trials were not producing results could be so simple. Now that he thought about it, it was really not simple at all. Who was responsible for this act of industrial sabotage? If it hadn’t been discovered, the outcome could have been devastating, costing Court Industries millions and millions of dollars in just preliminary development and trial costs, not to mention years of work. He had to think this through before he did anything, and he needed Harper’s input.
“John, keep this quiet. Run background checks on the lab, all their employees, and ownership. Dig deep. The answer is not going to be lying on the surface. Get back to me as soon as you have anything.” Morgan looked over at Harper and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we are going to be surprised again when we finally figure out who is responsible for this. I can’t imagine that pharmaceutical companies routinely do this kind of thing. I’m wondering if it could be tied in any way to the antitrust problems you’ve been having.”
* * * *
Harper sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee. This information, especially when considered with the missing briefcase, was troubling. She opened her laptop and pulled up Pharma Magazine online. She did a quick scan for articles mentioning Court Industries but found nothing new. Next she brought up LexisNexis for legal news with the same result. She intended to keep monitoring the Internet for any new information popping up on Court Industries. She just had a bad feeling about this whole situation.
“Morgan, while you’re busy here, I think I’ll sneak into my office for a couple of hours. I need to see what’s going on there. Do you want to meet for lunch?”
“I think I need to stay here today, babe. Why don’t we have dinner at my place tonight and have a quiet night in. We can go out to dinner Wednesday night and maybe stop by the club for a session. I don’t want to let that slide.”
The thought of a scene with Morgan at Le Club Eastside made Harper nervous, and she was not unhappy to put it off a day or two. The ambiance at the club was definitely darker and more serious than anything they had encountered aboard the ship or on Sugarloaf Island. She wondered if she would be able to handle it. Well, the time to find out was now. She could see that Morgan saw her hesitation when he walked over to her chair, bent down, brushed her hair aside, and kissed her neck.
“It will be fine. Don’t look so worried. This is me, remember?”
“Okay,” she said tentatively. “Dinner at your place tonight sounds good. I could use a little down time, and we’ll plan on Wednesday at Le Club.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Morgan Court’s Co-Op Apartment, Fifth Avenue, New York, New York, Monday Evening, November 25, 2013
Harper had to grin to herself when Morgan opened the door for her at six thirty. He had obviously just showered. He was barefoot and wore a pair of soft old jeans and a black T-shirt that was molded to his body like a glove. What made her smile was the message emblazoned diagonally across his chest. It stated “Obey” in a bold white script.
“You are too much. You never miss an opportunity to plug your cause.” But inside she thought, fat chance.
“Branding is everythin
g.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She sank into it as his muscled arms enfolded her. He unbuttoned her heavy coat and helped her shed a few layers. “How about a glass of wine? I’ve got steaks ready to grill, and Mrs. J. left us a Caesar salad in the fridge.”
“That sounds great. A glass of cabernet would be wonderful.” She wandered into the state-of-the-art kitchen and sat on a stool at the granite island. “You have the best kitchens for a guy who says he doesn’t cook much.”
“Mrs. J. does most of the cooking around here and at the beach. As I said, I mostly nuke, grill, or order in.” He reached into the gleaming stainless steel subzero refrigerator for chilled glasses before opening the wine storage unit under the cabinet and pulling out a cold bottle of her favorite Cabernet, which he competently uncorked and poured.
“Ummm. Delicious. I’m starved. I ended up getting involved with stuff on my desk at the office and never did order lunch.”
“Me either. McGregor had some preliminary information on Eastern Shore but nothing startling yet. I think he’s going to have to go a lot deeper to get what we need.”
“I did some poking around the state and county websites for licensing information and corporate records. Of course, there are corporations and limited liability companies five layers deep forming the corporate veil. None of the names meant anything to me, but I think you should give them a glance in case something rings a bell with you.”
“Good idea. How is everything at your office? Any pressure to come back to work immediately?”
“No, I hit it lucky. The senior partners are at their annual retreat in Aruba, and I was able to skate in under the radar. I did speak briefly with the managing partner of the firm that’s trying to recruit me, but I haven’t decided on anything yet. I don’t want to jump from the frying pan into the fire, so to speak. Most of the big firms run the same way. Billable hours, billable hours, billable hours!”
“Why don’t you open your own firm? You have a large pharmaceutical client for starters, and I’m sure a few of your other clients will follow you. That’s probably one of the reasons that other firm is pursuing you.”
“It’s so nice of you to say so, but I don’t know about raiding the firm’s clients.”
“Business is business, as long as you don’t do anything underhanded. They should have made sure you were happy. It’s part of the cost of doing business.” Morgan dropped the steaks onto the hot grill in the granite island, and they immediately began to sizzle. He pulled the Caesar salads out of the refrigerator, mixed the dressing, and then returned to the grill to turn the steaks. After grilling the steaks to medium-rare perfection, he said, “Let’s eat in the library. I lit a fire in the fireplace, and I love to watch the city lights. That’s one thing about this apartment I’ve never gotten tired of.”
“Your view is definitely magnificent.” She grinned to herself as she picked up her plate and glass and followed him out of the room. This view is pretty magnificent, too. The man has a world-class ass, and you can take that to the bank.
After dinner, as they sipped their wine and watched the view over Central Park and the city, Morgan turned to her and said, “You’re going to have to leave a few things here, you know. It’s just more convenient. I missed you in my bed last night.”
“Morgan, I am not ready to move in here yet.” She put her glass down on the coffee table next to their plates.
“Who said anything about moving in? I’m just asking you to leave some of your personal stuff here for convenience.” He grinned his devastating dimpled grin, and she could plainly see the wheels turning in his head. He definitely had an agenda, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for his plans. He turned her into his arms and kissed her until she forgot what she had been worrying about in the first place.
* * * *
Morgan knew he had some work to do here if he was going to get what he wanted. And that was Harper—full time in his bed and in his life. She was an amazing woman, and he didn’t plan to let her be the one that got away. He stood up, took her hand, and led her up the stairs to the master bedroom on the second floor of the duplex. Tomorrow was another day to attack all the problems, both personal and professional, that faced him. Tonight was his to enjoy with Harper in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tuesday had passed without incident. On Wednesday morning Morgan was having breakfast in his apartment. Harper had left very early so she could stop by her brownstone to change and pick up clothes for their trip to the club that evening before meeting him at the office. He was on edge, waiting for something concrete on Eastern Shore, when he picked up a call from Harper.
“Well, the other shoe has dropped. The Associated Press has a story online this morning stating that Court Industries’ new diabetes drug is not only ineffectual, but dangerous to the Phase II trial participants. And guess whose byline is on the story.”
“What? That’s bullshit. While it’s true we haven’t had any results, and we both know why that is, there is no indication that the drug is dangerous. How could it be? They’re only getting sugar pills.”
“You’re getting sidetracked. The interesting thing is the byline—our old friend, Harmon Burke. I was expecting to see some fallout from the disappearance of your briefcase, but I was not expecting to see Burke’s name attached to the story.”
“That slimy little shit! I’m going to have John McGregor look into Burke. The Chinese delivery guy told me he had seen an old green Volvo parked in the dunes near the house on several occasions last weekend. I’m wondering what Burke drives.”
“You should definitely have McGregor look into his background and that rag he works for, but what do you think we should do about the article?”
“I think I’ll have to make some innocuous denial statement and do some damage control. I’ll possibly have to pull the plug on the trial for now, at least until we know who’s responsible for the sabotage. Joe Levine is going to be upset if I stop the trial.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Maybe you should make full disclosure. The trial participants have a right to know…”
“If I do that, we might not be able to find out who is responsible. They will know we’re looking for them and go underground, and that is unacceptable. Whoever it is might be able to slip away like a snake in the grass. Someone’s been fucking with me, and they’ve been doing it for a while. And I don’t like it. I’ll get my PR people working on a statement.”
“Maybe you should consider taking this to the FBI or the FDA.”
“Considering the problems we’ve had with the antitrust issue as well as other problems in the past, I’m not sure I want to involve the federal authorities just yet. I’d like to see what we can find out on our own first. I don’t think this is just a one-time problem, and it’s not going to go away on its own.”
* * * *
Harper was concerned. She understood Morgan’s desire to find out who had tampered with the Maxprotem trials, but she had other legal concerns. Basically she was worried about the huge potential for product liability actions here. As it stood, none of the trial participants had actually been receiving treatment for the disease, not just the participants who were to have been receiving the placebos. She could see a massive problem for Court Industries, and Morgan personally, if any of the participants suffered injury because of the company’s failure to disclose the problem in a timely fashion. She knew they were going to have to talk about this some more, and he probably wasn’t going to like what she had to say. Tonight they just might be having their first big argument, and she wasn’t looking forward to the experience.
* * * *
Harmon Burke was beside himself. And then some. Holy hot damn! He had finally gotten a national byline. So what if he couldn’t back some of his material up with hard facts, and the facts he had were stolen. It was true that the drug was ineffectual according to the report, but there was no evidence to back up his claim that it was dangerous. That worried him, but the article he h
ad written for Cullen had needed some extra punch. Maurie had been happy with it and had sent it out to AP without any comment. The story had already been picked up by several of the New York papers, as well as Pharma online.
Harmon knew he was on the trail of a bigger story. He could smell blood, and he wasn’t going to back down. He planned to pick up his surveillance of Court and Cameron that afternoon when they left the office.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Morgan helped Harper into the low silver Jaguar. They had come down to the parking garage in the building’s elevator. Both wore long overcoats over their club apparel. It wouldn’t do for the conservative board of directors of his building to catch a glimpse of them duded out in BDSM wear. Morgan was in his standard black leather pants and vest over a naked chest. He had his mask in his pocket. Harper was wearing a short, tight, black satin dress that laced up the front from the crotch to the low-cut neckline and knee-high high-heeled boots. Her long black hair was spread over her shoulders, and she was wearing the platinum collar with the pavé diamond-encrusted heart and key that he had given her on the cruise. He’d had to swallow the saliva that flooded his mouth when she had come out of the bathroom.
“Have I told you, subbie, that you look delicious?”
“That would be ‘Mistress’ to you, sir.”
“Dream on, sub. I’m the Master here, and you’re the sub. Let’s not confuse the issue.” He grinned at her, knowing that she would be stewing inside, and he did so love to push her buttons.
Michaels, Skye - Harper's Submission [Golden Dolphin 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 14