“I will not settle when we did nothing wrong.”
“According to these women, that’s not true. And Praecursoria’s advice hit them at the heart of their womanhood. That is not something they’ll easily walk away from.” Caroline glanced at the draft again. “We may be able to shift part of the liability to Genetics for You, because they sent the notification letter, but I drove by its registered office this week, and nothing is there.” She turned to Samson. “You’re listed as part of the group that bought the company. Who’s running it now? Maybe we can negotiate with them to bear part of the responsibility.”
The man paled as he stared at the copied letter. “Why would they have sent out that letter?”
“I don’t know, but they did. And that’s what kicked off the letter we have to respond to.” She waited until he looked up. “This could turn into a class action. I won’t know until I learn how many people received similar letters. Until then, defusing this situation is important. If any of you know anything, now’s a good time to let me know.”
Samson stuttered, “There’s nothing here.”
Hannah cleared her throat. “If what they say is true, Caroline’s right—we have to deal with it fast.”
Quentin’s expression hardened. “Next topic. Trial CAR T 463 in Mexico.”
Caroline froze. “What do you mean, Mexico?”
Quentin looked to Hannah and Samson. “Where do we stand?”
Caroline felt like she was racing to catch up. “Stand on what?”
“Launching more trials in Mexico.”
“We can’t do that.” She looked among the three at the table and realized this decision had been made long before and without her. “Wait, Quentin. You said that was always a last resort.”
Samson graced her with an expansive smile. “You’re such a smart woman it’s easy to forget you don’t understand our world.” He placed his hands on top of the table, and a ring on his pinky flashed in the light.
She felt a ripple of unease at the way he said understand our world. “What do you mean?”
“We’d conducted baseline animal studies before you started working here. That’s why we could move to Phase 1 with humans so quickly.” Samson’s light accent made the words musical, even as she sensed a willingness to push the process. “What happened with Patrick is almost miraculous, and we can’t wait to clear all the red tape before we have this therapy tested in other kids. Waiting for them to find us won’t be enough. We have to find them.”
“But there is a trial. Bethany Anderson is part of it. And almost thirty others.”
Hannah frowned. “The sick girl at Inova?”
“Yes. It’s not working. She was getting much worse the last time I talked to Anna.”
“That was a week ago.” Samson’s voice was modulated like he hoped it would calm her, but it didn’t.
“How can you be so passive about her life? You’re the one who lost a child to this terrible disease.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m pushing to expand the study so we can get better results faster. There are good facilities south of the border where we can accelerate our data collection. Unfortunately, in our line of work, we can’t save everyone, but if we do our job right, we’ll be able to save many through what we learn from kids like Bethany and Patrick.”
Quentin rubbed his hands together. “All right. Samson, get the next round of negotiations started with your contact in Mexico. A lot will depend on what he needs from us. Let’s not lose sight of what we’re trying to do here. Learn from those who are participating now and keep communicating about what’s not working and what could or should be changed.”
Caroline shook her head. “You can’t have conversations like this without me unless you want more potential lawsuits like the one we were just discussing.” She tried to understand what she’d heard, a conversation at least some in the room didn’t want her to be part of. “You will need a completely different consent form to test kids not governed by US laws.”
“Don’t worry,” Quentin said. “We have a good boilerplate.”
“So now you’re drafting legal documents without my input?”
Samson shrugged. “These parents are desperate enough to agree to anything, but we walk them through all the possibilities.”
Quentin turned to Samson. “How quickly can we get a facility up and running in Mexico?”
“To test the process?” The man waited for Quentin’s nod. “To do it right, two months.”
“Why so long?”
“To get good results that support what we’re doing here, everything must be perfect.”
Hannah’s smile looked forced. “We’ve got the facility. The same one we used before. You handle the science. I’ve got the rest. We can have it up and staffed in three weeks.”
Quentin nodded and leaned back with his hands across his stomach. “I like the sound of that. We need a place people can go while waiting for the FDA to give us the nod for Phase 2.” Quentin unbuttoned and rolled up his right sleeve, then his left. “Don’t forget, we can press hard if we prove that our therapy and treatment won’t do more harm that what is currently on the market.” He said the words with a quiet authority as he met Caroline’s gaze.
She rose to his challenge. “Then why rush to a clinic in Mexico?”
Hannah shook her head. “This is exactly why bringing in an outsider at this time was a terrible idea. I tried to warn you.”
Quentin held up a hand. “We need her to make sure we do this right.”
She shook her head before focusing on Caroline. “This isn’t rushed. In fact, it’s been in the works since we got the first hint that this new CAR T-cell therapy could work. Patrick’s recovery just put an exclamation mark on its importance.”
“Why are you willing to put so much on Patrick? The fantastic recovery of one patient doesn’t justify anything.” Caroline considered the papers she had seen Lori spill in the hallway. What was the connection? She tried to take enough mental notes that the others wouldn’t realize she was absorbing every word. “How are we going to manage the hiring from here?”
“We won’t. I’ll send a list of what we’re looking for in the clinical staff to an employment agency there and let them do the work.”
“Will the key staff come here to be trained?”
“It’s complicated with the immigration laws, so we’ll send a few of our best there for that.”
“That sounds risky.”
“We aren’t the first to do it that way.”
She knew it was true, because she’d read the citations on the FDA’s website warning consumers against using unregulated stem-cell therapies and clinics. “So we can learn from their mistakes.”
“What would those be?” Samson’s voice had an oh-you-sweet-thing tone to it.
“Not having a sterile environment. Overpromising what we can achieve.”
Samson’s grin didn’t waver, but his eyes hardened. “We’re following the law.”
She took a moment to meet each of their gazes. “I’m here as a line of defense. Think of it as finding and maintaining the guardrails.” She’d keep using that analogy until it finally stuck. She held up her hand as Hannah opened her mouth. “Let me finish. It is indisputable you know the science. Each of you understands it better than I do. But I know the law and regulations better. That’s my trained expertise. So I’ll ask questions. And I’ll expect answers because that’s what you pay me to do. Otherwise I wouldn’t be doing my job.”
When she left Quentin’s office a few minutes later, her legs felt like jelly.
Samson followed her into the hall and caught up with her in a couple of steps. She kept walking until he reached out and grabbed her upper arm. She looked at his hand and then at his face. “What are you doing?”
“Watch your step.” There was a mix of concern and hardness in his gaze. “You are on the edge of something you don’t understand.”
“Is that what happened to Sarah?”
Con
fusion flashed across his face. “What do you mean?”
“Did she land in something she didn’t understand?”
Someone opened a door down the hallway, and he dropped her arm. “I have no idea what happened to her other than what the police have said. I like you, but you need to be careful. No one is irreplaceable, including you.”
“Is that a threat?” She planted her feet and met him head-on.
“Take it as friendly advice. We don’t make threats here.” He pulled his shirt cuffs from under his blazer. “We don’t need to.”
The words thudded between them.
He took a step away before pausing and looking back at her. “I’d consider that carefully if I were you.”
She stayed frozen in place after he continued down the hall.
The words reverberated through her with truth and heft.
Who else had he threatened?
Chapter 33
After leaving the hospital, Brandon headed into Arlington for lunch with Reid. He needed the encouragement and comfort of down-home southern cooking after an excruciating week made even harder by Anna’s death. When Brandon arrived at the small restaurant, Reid was already seated at a small table with a Coke in front of him. “I ordered you a tea.”
Brandon wrinkled his nose. “I’m still trying to like those.”
“Without sugar.”
“That’s better.” He eased into the chair, hoping it could support his size. Some restaurants favored furniture built for hobbits. Then he yawned and leaned back, wishing he still drank caffeine-infused energy drinks. He needed something after the too-short night.
“You okay, Brandon?” Reid eyed him carefully.
“Got woken up this morning. My cousin died, so I helped my aunt through some of the early decisions. Then I went to check on Bethany. She doesn’t look good. I’m concerned about how she’ll pull through without Anna fighting for her.”
“Man, I’m sorry. That’s a lot.”
“Yeah.” Brandon cleared his throat, and Reid shifted them to small talk until they ordered. Then Brandon leaned forward, ready to change the subject. “Caroline and I were talking last night, and she said something curious.” He’d skip over the part where he was an idiot and broke things off.
“What’s that?”
“She asked how much I invested in Praecursoria.”
“Did you tell her nearly everything you had left?”
“Maybe.”
Reid carefully placed his napkin across his lap. “Why did she ask?”
“I’m not sure.” He sighed as he balled up his own napkin. “She was upset about the fact I had invested.”
“You invested a year before she started.”
“You and I know that, but I don’t think the timing makes a difference to Caroline. I asked if I should sell, and she didn’t say a word. If anything that made her even more jumpy. To the point we broke up last night.” Okay, so he would mention it.
“Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
“Me either. It’s been a heck of a twenty-four hours.”
“What can I do?”
“Help me diversify. I figure if I sell my Praecursoria shares, I’ll remove that barrier between us.”
“It’s going to cost you. I don’t know what kind of buyer I’ll find.”
“It’s okay. She’s more important than any possible payoff in the future. None of it matters without her. And with the new direction Almost Home is taking, I need something lower risk.” He huffed. “I shouldn’t have gone that direction in the first place. I let fear play in my mind.” He unballed his napkin. “Think you can sell it, even at a loss?”
“Yes. Between my boss and me, we’re always talking to people who are looking for tech ventures. It won’t happen today though.”
“It’s okay. I’ll know it’s in process and that’s what matters. You’d do this for Emilie, wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely. When you find the right person, she’s worth the cost. By the way, I might have someone interested in the Porsche.”
“Yeah?” Brandon considered it a moment. He didn’t need the car. Rarely drove it anyway. It was time to let it go. “They can have it.”
“Are you sure? I still remember when you bought it.”
“It’s only a thing. Besides, it sits unused most days.” Brandon tried to ignore the pinch in his gut. “It might have been my dream car, but it’s ridiculous to pay all that insurance and maintenance on a car I don’t even drive. I’ll replace it with something more practical.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
The waiter returned to their table with two steaming plates. Reid’s held some sort of seared scallops, while Brandon’s was heaped with ribs. The waiter set the plates down, then pulled a stack of wet wipes from his apron. “You’ll need these.”
He grabbed Brandon’s tea glass and took off for a refill before Brandon could say thanks. Still, Brandon was grateful for the reprieve. After a few bites from the ribs, he tore open a wipe and cleaned his hands. “How bad is it for us if something happens to that company?”
Reid shrugged. “I can review the company’s financials and let you know if I see anything concerning. We can sell since she hasn’t said anything specific, but it could look coincidental.”
“Understood.” Brandon took another bite of the spicy ribs that set his mouth on fire.
Reid pulled out his phone and made a few notes. “I’ll double-check your portfolio when I get back to the office and make recommendations. Start-ups are high risk and high reward.” He stopped tapping and looked at Brandon. “I haven’t seen anything in the press that makes me nervous, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
“Don’t dig. I don’t want to get anywhere near the insider trading line. My goal is to remove this barrier between Caroline and me.” He licked his fingers, then sighed. “The rent agreements with my house parents will work, but a cushion would help keep Almost Home solvent if I’m wrong.” The waiter returned with his drink, and he guzzled half of it. “It’s supposed to be easier than this.”
“What is?”
“Providing a home for my kids. It’s a good thing, so why one hardship after another?”
“That’s the way it often is for the things worth doing.”
Brandon shook his head. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be a downer.”
“This is real life. It’s what friends do. We weren’t made to walk life alone.”
“You’re right.” But it was still a lesson Brandon was embracing. “How’s Kinley?”
“Better all the time. She’s really bonded to Emilie.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Being a family—it’s already better than I expected. You ought to try it sometime.”
Brandon pointedly picked up another rib and started gnawing on it.
Reid laughed as he waved down the waiter for the bill. “All you need to do is decide what you want from life.”
* * *
When Caroline reached the small cafeteria, Lori and her colleague Tod were already there. Neither seemed curious about why she’d asked to meet with them. Lori had the look of someone who spent her days in an office, with the slight plumpness of someone who occupied a desk. Tod was her opposite, looking more like a scarecrow than a lion, with thick owlish glasses and a bit of absentminded professor thrown in for good measure.
“Did y’all know Justin well?”
Lori paused and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “As well as anyone who worked with him. Why?”
“I was sorry to hear about his accident Wednesday.”
Lori paled and inhaled sharply. “I told him to stop asking questions.”
“Why?”
“Because he was poking at Samson’s special project. That’s never a good idea.”
Tod nodded. “When he has a scientific insight, no one better get in his way.” Tod glanced around, then leaned closer. “The man thinks he’s a genius.”
Lori too
k another spoonful of her soup. “Too bad his ideas don’t work half the time. But I guess Einstein’s didn’t either. The two of them are working on something intense.”
“Two of who?” Caroline tried to piece together what they were saying with what they weren’t.
Tod put his napkin on top of his plate and stood. “Samson and Silver. The two S’s. We”—he gestured between himself and Lori—“have learned to steer clear, but Justin decided to get in the middle of it.” He leaned close. “Hope that didn’t cause the accident, if you know what I mean.” He glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. “It’s all connected. It has to be. Sarah runs a trial and then dies as she’s getting good results? Now Justin? How was he helping you?”
“What?” Caroline straightened.
“We all knew he was working with you.”
“No, he was helping me understand the science.”
“Sure.” He gave her a small salute. “I’m out of here for the day. Let things simmer down over the weekend. Stay safe.”
“What does he mean?” Caroline tried to still her hands that were clenching and unclenching in her lap. “Stay safe?”
Lori watched him leave, then turned to Caroline. “Be careful. Sarah was working on the research, and then she died.”
“Her death was an accident.” Wasn’t it? Or were the rumors right that it was suicide?
“Is that what you’ve been told? If you ask me, there’ve been a lot of accidents surrounding my lab.” Lori rolled her napkin into a straw shape. “Sarah was as determined as any other scientist to find the world’s next HeLa cells.”
“But the world already has HeLa cells. We’ve had them for sixty years. Why would a new discovery matter?”
Lethal Intent Page 24