by Ian Brett
Whatever anyone else said, Patterson knew that Professor James Miller was a snob and a fool. His precious ‘scientific reputation’ together with his squeamish moral perspective was bound to bugger them. He would prevent the company from ever making it big. Still he shouldn’t be too hard on the man; that precious reputation was the lever that had allowed them to raise the cash in the first place. Anyway, forget him. He’s out of the equation as of tomorrow. One way or another.
Patterson thought of himself as an entrepreneur and pathfinder - a man who gets things done. In reality he had the con man’s inflated opinion of his own energy and intelligence - first he fooled himself, then he duped others. The indulged son a successful family, Tom had been allowed to coast through childhood. At school he’d cheated effectively enough for his father’s contacts to ease his way to a second class University. There he’d partied hard and studied little but just managed to scrape his third Of course Tom knew he should have got a first, but the University had a down on him because of that bloody girl. Still she was out of the way now.
Most of the time he was damn idle. But he knew how to tell the idiots what they wanted to hear. It was easier and brought them on side. Well, the right sort of people that is; those who could help - not waiters, shop assistants and other riff raff but real people. People who had the money and brains to listen to him.
Tom hoped that Miller could be led down his path, stage by stage until he was in too deep to get out. Flatter his ego… a new title, perhaps a bit more cash…Chairman sounds good. He’ll fall into line….he enjoys the research…..desperate for more success. …if not? Well there was a plan for that. Then the other problem. The Select Committee. That was in hand. But Miller had to be dealt with tonight, one last chance to see sense. Everything was ready, he just had to get on with it. He picked up his mobile and dialled the number.
“Hello Professor Miller.”
“James its Tom, can we meet? I’ve got something to tell you about the fundraising.”
“Good, how’s it going?”
“Complicated, but can I tell you when I see you, there’s a lot to go over.”
“OK when.”
“This evening say 7:00, at the pub…”
“Do you want to meet in the Eagle?”
“No let’s try something different, what about the Elm Tree, lots of different beers there.” More importantly fewer people you know.
“OK that’s fine, see you later.”
Everyone knew that Miller liked his pint, perhaps it was his one weakness; Tom didn’t care a damn about that. But where they met was important. The Eagle was owned by Miller’s old college Corpus Christi and he often met colleagues there. Whatever the outcome, Tom preferred not to be remembered by too many of them.
He managed to arrive early so was able to get a table in one of the darker corners. The pub, a real ale lover’s delight, was busy already and Tom ordered two pints to get things started. He poured most of his into the dregs on a nearby table and sat in the shadows waiting.
Miller burst in, late as usual and looked round the pub. Despite his slightly dishevelled appearance he radiated energy as he bustled over.
“Well, have you got the money?” No beating around the bush with Miller. He looked down and for a moment and was distracted by the waiting pint. “Ah my favourite, thanks.” He took a long gulp. “Great flavour and a decent strength…see I’m behind.”
Tom finished his drink as Miller took another slug.
“God I need that,” said Miller, “teaching first years today - damn boring.” He stood up finishing his pint. “Another of the same?”
“Oh… yes, that was good.”
Miller returned with two full pints. “So what’s the story?”
“Well we should be OK, I’ve drummed up a few of my old contacts and they may be willing to invest. I used the presentation you gave a few months ago about the other three molecules we’ve developed and they seemed interested.”
“But did you tell them about the Phase O trial?” Miller downed another half of his drink. “That’s the key part.”
“Well sort of I -”
“Oh come on, you either did or you didn’t.” said Miller sinking the rest of his pint.
“Don’t worry I’m coming to that.” Tom stood up and took a £50 note out of his wallet. “I need to go to the loo, can you get a couple more and I’ll fill you in when I get back.”
“Fine, shall we stick to the same?” Said Miller pointing to the glasses.
“Yes I’m enjoying that.”
When Tom got back Miller was part way through his third pint and had begun to relax. “There’s your change.” He pointed to a two £20 notes and some change. “The barman wasn’t happy with a £50 but he knows me so took it.” Tom looked blank, so Miller explained. “They’ve had a lot of forgeries so are not keen on £50s.”
“Not to worry, we’ll be here for a bit longer, he’ll get most of that lot back anyway.”
“Probably true, but tell me more.” The beer was beginning to have its affect Miller was feeling more relaxed.
“I told them that we had four molecules, that the lab testing of our primary candidates were good I…”
“But did you tell them the results.”
“Hang on I’m coming to that. I told them that you had insisted on parallel development of three other anti-cancer molecules in case the first failed in clinical trials and they were happy with that.” He held up his hand. To prevent Miller butting in. “Look we’ve almost finished these do you want to get another couple while I get the paperwork out.” Tom brought his briefcase to the table.
“OK but I’ll pay for these.”
“No you’ve done all the real work so far, I can put this lot down to expenses. Can you get us some peanuts or crisps or something when your there?
“Fine.” Miller took the proffered note and turned to the bar. When his back was turned Tom pored the rest of his pint into a flask in his briefcase and brought out some papers. By the time Miller returned the case was back on the floor.
“Here you are. We can probably get another £10 million out of this lot. With them on board another £50 to £60 mil will follow from other investors- people trust them. That should get us to the stage where we can interest one of the big boys, in buying us out and continuing the development.
Miller was silent for a moment then took another draft before trying again. “That’s all great, but did you tell them about the failure?”
“Well not in so many words, as I said I told them about your concerns about just having one development drug and about the others you found and that all seemed fine. Apparently most small companies float before they do phase O anyway.”
Miller looked disappointed, he needed another drink. This was going as badly as he should have expected. Worse in fact since Tom was obviously trying to accommodate his concerns. The problem was that all this fell into fraud - they had already done the trial.
Tom leaned across the table and put his hand on Miller’s arm. “Look James, I just don’t understand your objection, it was me who wanted to do the Phase O before we floated. If we’d followed your advice none of us would have known about this problem, so -”
Abruptly Miller stood up, scraped another £20 note off the table and went to the bar, returning a few moments later with another two pints. “As I keep saying, it’s too late now, we DO know the results are clear. I can’t accept hiding them and that’s final. No amount of rationalisation will make me change my mind. OK?”
Tom looked Miller steadily in the eyes. It was clear the man could never accept even the most reasonable compromise. He’d tried his best with Prof Miller but the man was adamant. “OK James, you win, I’ll tell them tomorrow first thing. There’s still a chance that my group will invest - they understand how these things go, but they’ll probably want a larger percentage of the company to cover the risk. Would that be OK with you and your conscience?”
Miller felt relief surge through his
body. Thank God he’d made Tom see sense. It was always worth sticking to your guns with these money guys. He knew he was right, any competent VC must understand the ups and downs of drug development. If Tom could keep his group happy it could still all work out. Miller’s bladder was suddenly bursting. “Shall we have a final pint and then go, I’m hungry but I need to go to the loo first.”
“OK, I’ll get the last two.”
“Great, you know where I live, five minutes round the corner, Number 15, I’ll drop in at the Indian on the way. Do you want a curry?”
“No, I’m meeting one of our backers here,” Tom looked at his watch, “in about ten minutes. Bearing in mind what I’ll have to tell him - the Phase O failure and so on, I think it’s best if I do that alone. I’ll buy him some food butter him up a bit.”
“Sounds fine.” Said Miller standing up. “Drop by when you’ve finished - let me know how it went.”
“OK, I should be less than an hour with him, then I’ll come back to your place. You can make your precious announcement tomorrow - with any luck you’ll also be able to say that we have a valuable new backer on board as we move forward.”
Miller looked apprehensive so Tom continued “Look James, now we’ve come to an agreement I promise to keep you up to date. Let’s go over your announcement later and work up an update for the rest of the investors.”
“Sure.”
Tom relaxed and went to the bar. “Another quick pint for my friend he needs to go home, he’s had a hard day.” He smiled knowingly and got an understanding smirk from the barman. “I need food and some coffee, Oh and a couple of packets of salt and vinegar crisps to start please.” He looked quickly at the bar menu and ordered a steak.
Tom was back first and no one saw him take a sip out of Miller’s pint then top it up from a small hip flask. They would probably have taken no notice anyway, these two guys were obviously seasoned drinkers who liked a chaser in their pints. Tom opened both packets of crisps and as Miller returned offered him one.
“Thanks I’m starving Miller emptied half his packet before turning to his pint. He did not notice that he was drinking alone but downed his pint quickly. “Right I’m off, see you in about an hour?”
“OK, I’ll phone when I’m on my way.”
***
As Tom had hoped the bar was filling up now and most of the tables were taken. He waited till another group came in then went to the bar. “I’ll eat at the bar if that’s easier, seems silly to block a table just for me.”
“Thanks.” The barman nodded at the door. “Your friend was downing them quickly tonight. We see him in here sometimes but I can’t remember his name.”
“That’s the famous Professor Miller from the University, we’re celebrating tonight, he’s got some great results on his latest project - probably make us both millions.”
The barman’s smile did not quite reach his eyes as he went off to get Tom’s food. Great another rich bastard. Why did nothing good ever happen to me? Perhaps he should ask this one for a few tips. A decent guy really. He seemed to want to talk anyway and that was always a good sign.
It was another hour before Tom left the pub; the barman was a good listener. Between serving pints and food, he absorbed some of Tom’s wisdom on high finance. After yet another coffee, he left the bar. “See you again and thanks for the chat.”
I must remember that guy, thought the barman. I may be able to get some money off him... The bank wouldn’t lend me a damn thing but he might.
Tom made sure to look up at the security camera as he checked his watch, then crossed the road to stand opposite the pub. There was a steady stream of taxis at that time of night and he was home within ten minutes. Half an hour later a figure left by the back gate into a service road. His high visibility cycling gear, and backpack marked him out as one of Cambridge’s many peddlers out for his evenings exercise. The helmet and night goggles rendered him anonymous.
Chapter 3 Max
Howard had been the commanding officer during my first posting in Bosnia. He’d left a year later to start the Consultancy and I joined him following the shame and disillusionment of my UN secondment. I’d vowed that never again would I be party to shabby orders that forced me to stand aside and do nothing to defend those who needed help… The result of that inactivity still haunts my dreams.
When I first left the army I marked time organising investigations for a chamber of human rights lawyers - but that was not for me so I resigned and took a year out. I volunteered for a charity teaching maths and physics to school kids in South Africa and loved it. Eventually a month or so after my return to London I bumped into Howard in a bar. I needed to pay some bills and he gave me a job. It worked well and I stayed on eventually becoming a full partner. The life suited me.
In our quieter and more reflective moments, I’d guess that many of us admit that there are elements to our characters that we don’t quite approve of. My problem is a primeval fear of inactivity and boredom. I’ve learned that it can be relieved by the high I get from putting my life on the line for a cause. Joining ‘The Consultancy’ has enabled me to employ my needs to society’s advantage.
This means I’m tolerated. I exploit my needs, perfectly legally, in my work. Perhaps ‘legally’ isn’t quite the right word. I suppose it may be more honest to say that currently, our work is considered convenient to the legitimate authorities.
Ostensibly we run an IT and logistics consultancy advising governments and multinationals. At first it was a profitable cover for our main activity, hostage recovery. Recently things have changed we’ve expanded. We aid the government with the regulation and management of organised crime and terrorism. You could call it Pest Control. Governments find it expedient for some of their more sensitive problems to be handled by an outside agency. They’re able to keep their hands clean and have total deniability. We’re keen to develop this side of the business so I was concerned that the political fallout from Charlie’s predicament could hit us now I had become involved. I needed to talk to Howard and quickly, so I went round to see him at home.
“I’m glad you told me, I knew something was bothering you.” We were sitting in his lounge with a coffee as I explained Charles’s problems and my involvement.
“I owe the guy, big time but I’m worried that this investigation could cause problems with our Government work.”
“Can’t see why it should, in fact I would guess that they probably know already.” Howard rested his feet up on the desk and sat back to listen. “But what have you got so far?”
“I’ve had a quick peek at Zanic. It strikes me that since someone is trying so hard to steer the Select Committee away I ought to have a closer look at them. They’ve grown rapidly and are listed as a hot investment. They got a couple of Government grants when they brought in Prof Miller. You may have read about the guy - he’s interested in aging and cancer, they brought him in as lead consultant to direct their research. Their full name is Zanic Bioscience and they’re backed by Valance a Venture Capital company which raised about £50 million to fund the first part of their research.
“Surely that won’t get them far in that sector.”
“No your right, but their web site states that their aim is to get to a “proof of principle” pre-clinical stage.”
“Not sure if I follow that.” Howard hand his hands behind his head and his eyes closed - in his favourite ‘tell me more’ posture.
“As you probably know it costs around $5 Billion to produce a successful approved drug. That’s partly because most developments fail at the clinical stage. Although drugs may show promise in lab work and animal testing, they fail for one reason or another when they start to be tested in humans - what they call the clinical stage. Amazingly it appears that there is a huge difference between the way rats respond to a drug and the way most humans do.”
I got a long-suffering look over the glasses for that one. “OK, so why are small companies so favoured at the moment - you would think
this was a job for the big boys with all their cash?”
“Start-ups are considered to be faster and more flexible - less red tape. They’re often run by workaholic scientists with a passion for a subject. Of course many of them go bust, but others spring up. There’s two stages when you can sell - one is just before phase O or phase 1 clinical trials the other is after. After is more profitable for the inventors.”
“More bullshit. What does all that mean?”
“Clinical trials start when they put an active drug into humans - a phase O trial for an anti-cancer drug like the one Zanic is developing is when they give it to volunteer patients at a very low dose just to see if the drug actually reaches the tumour. They look at how the drug acts on the body and if it has any effect on the tumour but there’s no chance that the patient will be helped because the dose is so low.”
“OK, so in simple English, it’s to see if the drug could work and isn’t dangerous.”
“Exactly and most drugs fail at this stage. It’s difficult to produce something that’s effective AND isn’t damaging. If this stage is successful they go on to Phase 1 where 100 or so healthy volunteers are given an active dose to check safety. If that is successful, and only then, do they continue on and give active levels to real patients. That’s called Phase 2.”
“So basically what you are saying is that as you go from lab work to clinical trials in humans the chances of failure get higher and higher.”
“Exactly.”
“And I assume the profits, if they are successful, grow exponentially?”
“You’ve got it, into the billions of dollars.”
“So which stage are Zanic at?”
“They’ve just finished the lab stage. I get a feeling that some insiders think they’ve started phase O but I’ve got no update on that.”
Howard, took his feet off his desk and leaned forward. “I think you should carry on with your investigation. We’ll fund the costs for now but you’d better tell Charles that if we come up with anything interesting we’ll need to have a chat with our government contact.” He held up his hand to prevent me butting in. “From what you say the sector is key to the British economy so I’m sure we can contrive to keep anything about him out of public notice - you’re sure this is a scam by the way?”