About Face (13 page)

“I'd like to hear more about that,” I said, “and the mechanics of this deal. I know that Eternaderm takes up the slack, so to speak, in a patient's skin by renovating elastin. It sounds like a form of gene therapy.”

“It's similar,” she said, “but safer.” Our food had arrived and Ellen dug into a chili relleno. “In gene therapy, you insert new genetic material to modify the patient's DNA. Eternaderm won't alter your skin's genetic code; the consequences of that sort of thing are hard to control. Instead, it remodels elastin by promoting the turnover process. Normally, your skin's elastin production drops off after puberty and eventually stops altogether. We found a regulator protein that modifies the expression of elastase, which breaks down old fibers, and at the same time upregulates fibroblast synthesis of new elastin fibers. The process is reversible by withdrawing the drug.”

“And elastin is a connective tissue?”

“Right. Both collagen and elastin are connective tissues made up of proteins. You find elastin in various parts of the body, including arteries. Once Eternaderm is launched, I want to look into whether it can be used for wound healing and to prevent atherosclerosis.”

“Healthier elastin means skin that's more supple and relilient. I gather this is essentially a cosmetic therapy.”

Ellen made a face. “A
cosmetic
is a compound that is supposed to have no biologic action. Skin is porous, but it's also our armor: Its job is to keep the outside world out. Cosmetics, in general, don't do a lot more than polish the armor and make it
look and feel better for a while. You want to know what the number-one wrinkle-prevention treatment is? Using sunblock or staying out of the sun altogether. Sun does more damage than aging. Most cosmetics are remixtures of a palette of known ingredients, with new textures and smells and marketing campaigns. Don't get me wrong, it's a real art. The companies like to call their products ‘bioactive,' which sidesteps the issue. Something like tretinoin, on the other hand, is an actual therapeutic, although they're still trying to understand how it works. It has a similar effect on collagen as Eternaderm does on elastin, though it's not as powerful. One problem it has is that it might cause skin to burn more easily by flattening the stratum corneum. Alpha hydroxy acids seem to improve the skin, too, but they haven't been studied rigorously. The thing is, arriving at a scientific understanding of what a particular molecule does is a long and expensive process. From a business angle, it's unclear whether clinical trials are worth the trouble. If you know how to play around with the language, you can market a cream that makes more grandiose claims and costs far less to develop.”

“But that's not an option with Eternaderm.”

“Eternaderm goes to the genetic level without altering genes. We've developed artificial transcription factors that target the binding domains on chromosome 7 and set the turnover process in motion. This has distinct biologic action on the skin.”

“So it's definitely a medicine, not a cosmetic,” I said. “But the company is still aiming for—what would you call it—an
elective
market.”

“That's right.” She looked down her nose. “These patients will receive treatment primarily for their vanity. I thought we were going in a more therapeutic direction, treating real problems. Ronald promises that once we build up the company with these elective treatments, we can get the big money we'll need to find
out what Eternaderm can do for arteries and wound healing. We'll see what it can do for other skin diseases, too, but a lot of them are so rare, there's little money to be made in them. You do it to help people.”

“I remember hearing you're also developing other treatments that work on collagen and on melanin.”

Ellen nodded. “Right. I'm hoping Rod's technology will help us tweak Eternaderm so it works just as well to remodel collagen. That'll put us in the wrinkle-prevention business, which needless to say is huge. And if we can regulate melanin, we can regulate pigmentation. We're identifying control sequences and binding domains, and developing transcription factors. Every gene complex has a set of control sequences that initiate or inhibit the transcription of the genes. This is where Rod's tools come in. His software will run simulations and scenarios and tell us which ones to pursue.”

“It sounds pretty magical.”

“Oh, it is. He was an algorithmic wizard. Rod gave me confidence they'll work, and your video helped the suits get the picture. I heard them talking afterward about how it had branded Rod for them.”

Branding
was a word people used when I was making films for them. The branding mania had extended to groups within a company finding ways to get themselves noticed. “What are the chances of the deal holding together, now that Rod is gone?”

“I certainly hope it does,” Ellen said, sitting back. I sat back, too, having polished off a couple of enchiladas. “I suppose you couldn't blame Sylvain for getting shaky in the knees, but the truth is we need Algoplex's technology. In fact, I'm glad you mentioned it. I'm going to talk to Sylvain about this.”

“Did anyone have doubts about the deal?”

“I can't think of anyone who wasn't enthusiastic.”

I remembered how the Sylvain guys had acceded so quickly to Rod's demand to have me at dinner. “What about Connie?” I said. She'd been the only exception. “What do you think of her?”

“Well,” Ellen answered slowly, “I think Connie is on board. And Ronald is a dear, in his self-absorbed way. As for Connie, personally—well, I wouldn't want to be indiscreet.”

A little twinkle in her eye told me she was dying to be. “Oh, go ahead.”

“It's nothing really. Sometimes she just seems like a character out of a fairy tale. The evil stepmother.” Ellen burst out with a little laugh. “I'm sorry, I just had to say it. But the truth is, she knows what she's doing. She keeps everyone, especially Ronald, in line. So to be honest, although we're not best friends, I do admire her.” Ellen stopped and finished off her soda. “You've probably already asked yourself if Plush made up his name. No, it's real, and so is Connie's epidermis. She doesn't waste time on vanity treatments.”

“I figured from the minute the doctor was born he knew he was either going into dermatology or carpets. These other programs will be equally big in the cosmetic market, if they pan out, won't they?”

“Oh, yes. I didn't exactly sign up for the cosmetic business, but the work is too exciting to drop now. I hope Ronald is serious about therapeutics, because personally I am not itching to tend exclusively to the wrinkle anxieties of the overfed or underfed rich of Silicon Valley.”

“Who are the only ones who'll be able to afford Eternaderm.”

“It'll be exceedingly expensive until we ramp up production and perfect the delivery system. These people will expect creamy perfection. We'll need to analyze their skin chemistry before devising the individual treatment regimen. It's a tricky balancing act.”

She looked at her watch. I thought about what else I needed to ask her. “Did you happen to know Wendy Bevins?” I said.

Ellen squinted. “No, the name's not familiar.”

“Dr. Plush knows her, and so does Connie. I sure would like to talk to them.”

“You want to meet with Connie? I don't see why not.”

“Connie doesn't like me.”

“Connie has strange taste in men. You might have noticed that.”

I smiled. “Well, last time I tried to get in, I couldn't get past the front desk.”

“No problem. I'll take you back to her office right now.”

» » » » »

Ellen was one of the few people at Plush Biologics who was not intimidated by Connie Plush. She was a very good scientist and the company would still be groping for ways to make Eternaderm work without her, and she knew it. She breezed me past the lines of administrative deterrence that protected the suite in which Mrs. Plush, as they called her, held court. Worried glances followed us.

Connie, on the phone, gave Ellen a sharp glance as we entered. Ellen said, “Please take a minute to talk to this gentleman.”

The long, rectangular suite had two glass walls, one of which faced outdoors. Most of the panels were shuttered except for one looking back into the office and one facing out to a small patio attended by Japanese maples. Ellen proceeded to a sitting area at the far end of the suite. Connie's gaze followed. I seated myself in a wingback chair before she could kick me out.

We waited while Mrs. Plush finished her business on the phone. Ellen's leg began to wag; she was not a person who liked sitting still. After a few minutes she abandoned me to Connie.
When her call was done, Connie sat opposite me. She was wearing a long black skirt and a pink shirt with a button collar. A pair of reading glasses dangled from a sterling silver necklace.

I glanced at the chaise lounges on the patio and attempted a joke about skin and sun damage. Connie looked at the patio and said, “I don't use it.”

So much for small talk. I waited. She folded her legs, folded her hands on top of them, and said, “We were terribly sorry to hear about Rod.” Her tone was earnest, even respectful. “It's a terrible loss for all of us. Is there any word on what exactly happened?”

I limited my answer to the police's burglar theory. She tutted about the condition of society and the unfairness of such a talented man being taken. It was boilerplate, but she acted like she meant it.

“Will this make completion of work on Eternaderm difficult?” I asked.

She focused her hard gray eyes on me. They matched her hair and its sensible cut. A trace of elegance showed in the way her hands moved, but she suppressed it in favor of efficiency. “Let's not speak of business. The man is dead, we ought to honor him properly. Are you so concerned that you went to all this trouble to barge in and ask me that?”

I drew back a little. Nothing in her appearance was specifically censorious, it was more the iron spirit animating the face. Still, I appreciated the invitation to get to the point. “I'd be very grateful if you could tell me what you know about Wendy Bevins and where to find her.”

“Wendy?” She drew herself up.

“The woman with Rod at dinner Monday night. I'm sure you met her.”

“Alissa? What about her?”

“You know that's not her name. Your husband winked at her.”

“Ronald's liable to wink at anyone,” she said.

“So you're completely clueless about what was going on?”

She looked away with a mild cluck of the tongue, as if pausing to deliver a lesson. “There's something known as discretion, Bill.”

“You don't know who it was, do you?” I goaded.

“Of course I do. I know them both.”

“They did some promotional work for you, right? Showing off their excellent skin. What exactly was the job?”

“That's confidential.”

“Well, I need to be in touch with Wendy. There are matters of the estate concerning both her and her daughter.”

Connie sighed as if I'd badgered her into doing me a favor. “Don't push that angle, Bill. Her benefit is no concern of mine. And don't get the mother and daughter mixed up like you did the other night.”

“All the more reason I should speak to Wendy. Can you tell me how to reach her?”

“I'm sorry. Her address changes frequently.”

“Perhaps I could talk to Dr. Plush, then.”

“Ronald's not in today. He's a busy man.”

“Yes, but he seemed to have a special connection with Wendy.”

She smothered her anger under an indulgent smile. “He can't help you, Bill. Leave him be. He lives in his own world.” Her tone made me picture Connie picking up after him as the doctor went distractedly about the house dropping skin samples behind him like socks. It also managed to put me in the position of a youngster bothering Daddy, who was busy. I had to hand it to Connie. She was good.

I had one more card to play, and I marked higher than it was. “Wendy lured Rod to a club the night of his death. The police are hunting for her. They'll also be looking for anyone who knows anything about her.”

“I'm right here. Take one of my cards on your way out. Give it to them.”

So far I was 0 for 2 on the threats of police investigation. I was sure Gary had been bluffing on Rupert's behalf, but less sure about Connie. Yes, she was good. I should have just accepted it. Instead, I took a moment to inspect her face. A looseness was visible in the skin. As Ellen had told me, she'd made no effort to hide the channels on her forehead or the rills inscribed near her eyes and mouth.

“Do your husband's treatments actually work?” I asked.

I should never have stooped to the implication. When she caught me at it, her victory was complete.

“I know exactly who and what I am, Bill,” she said, then stood and walked me to the door.

Wes had left a message
with news that was both good and bad while I was in Connie Plush's office. The bad news was the date with the SG associates was postponed until tomorrow night. The good part was that meant I was free to spy on Rupert's dinner tonight with Sylvain Partners.

I punched my speed-dial button for Wes as I drove from Plush down to Algoplex. “Can you believe this?” Wes complained. “They're playing a game on us, Bill.”

“At least it's mutual. Erika probably got a last-minute call from a more important client. We're at the bottom of her list.”

“Let's see if she still feels that way
after
the date.”

I had to laugh. “Impossible as it seems, she may be immune to your charms.”

“Want to put some money on that?”

“Let me remind you of the purpose of this date, Wes. First we need to gain their confidence. Then we need to get Erika and the other associate to talk about Alissa.”