The RX Factor (28 page)

Ryan and Jordan spent the weekend holed up at
the cabin on the lake. Other than their pit stop at the Greyhound Station, they followed Crawford's orders and did not leave the property. They forgot about reality for the next forty-eight hours. It was the respite they both needed.

It was 8:15 on Monday morning and Ryan was staring out the bedroom window with the phone to his ear. A Hawthorn tree swayed in the cool wind as cottony clouds chased each other across a low sky. Jordan padded up behind him, stretching her arms. "Any luck?"

He looked over his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. "Maybe," he said as he covered the phone. "They're checking to see if Huggins is in. I—" He interrupted himself, holding up a finger as he returned his attention to the phone call. "Oh, I see. He'll be in later this afternoon? . . . Fine. . . . No, I'll just call him back then, thanks."

The interstate lay wide open before them after they escaped the morning rush hour. They picked up the blue-and-white highway signs and headed north to Richmond. As they crossed into Virginia, Ryan said, "I'm sure that the documents Eric stashed in the locker are in regards to the Tri-copatin clinical trial."

Jordan looked skeptical. "And you think this Huggins is going to let us waltz in and scour his records?"

"No, but I know a way to at least get us into the lab. It's normal for FDA field inspectors to arrive unannounced, hoping to catch the labs unprepared. We can pretend to be FDA inspectors."

"I suppose they're going to let us march right in without any credentials?"

"I've heard some funny stories about how the inspectors show up at the back door and, just by mentioning they're from the FDA, scare the shit out of the shipping clerks. The FDA can shut down a lab for almost any reason. Do you think some shipping clerk or lab tech wants to risk pissing off an inspector by asking for ID?"

"You're right," Jordan conceded. "I remember once an FDA inspector showed up at our clinic.

Before I even knew he was there, he had grilled several of my staff members. The little prick got enough penny-ante crap out of my nurses to just about trigger a full-blown audit."

"Intimidation is a powerful tool. The scared lab techs couldn't be more cooperative, running around and fetching the inspectors anything they ask for." For a brief moment, Ryan grinned. Their shared understanding of these things helped to make him feel even closer to her. The average person wouldn't have a clue about the intricacies of FDA rules and regulations. Even with this knowledge, Ryan knew his plan was risky, but at this point, it was their best option.

After a few more miles, Jordan looked up from the paperwork. "I've been scanning the list of names and phone numbers that Eric left for you. Although it's in a different format, the names are identical to the ones on the list we took from the NHCA clinic. I think it'd be a good idea to call back the families of the patients we contacted from the Mexico list and give them our new cell phone number in case any of them have been trying to reach us."

"Yeah," Ryan said, "good idea. It can't be a coincidence."

As Ryan drove, Jordan, reenacting her role as an attorney representing the families of deceived patients who had trusted NHCA, began making phone calls. She encountered the same frustrat ing results as before. By the time they entered the Richmond city limits, they concluded that further calls were a waste of time. Everyone on that list was dead.

They arrived at K-Dar at 1:00 p.m. and went straight to the back door. They identified themselves as FDA compliance officers to the first lab tech they came across and asked to be taken to the file room.

As Ryan had predicted, the wide-eyed tech led them, without question, to a large, cluttered room before setting off to fetch his supervisor. The room was occupied by four lab technicians, several empty desks, and several rows of file cabinets. Jordan and Ryan situated themselves at separate workstations and waited. Within a few minutes, a middle-aged woman with the stiff and proper bearing of a drill sergeant arrived.

With a forced smile, she extended her hand. "Good afternoon. My name's Jane Zilles. I'm the assistant general manager. What can I help you with?"

Ryan spoke up first. "Just a routine follow-up visit. We're in the process of closing out a number of clinical trials, and we're here to do a final audit of your records for the Tricopatin trial that you did for FSW five years ago."

"Oh my," Zilles responded with surprise. "That was before my time here. Why is the FDA interested in trial data from so long ago?"

The question caught Ryan off guard and rendered him speechless, but Jordan quickly intervened. "Another pharmaceutical company has submitted an NDA for a clinical trial for a new ovarian cancer drug. The Tricopatin trial resulted in some serious adverse effects, and we need to review the early data from it to establish a baseline for comparison."

"I see. Just a minute, while I try to figure out where to direct you." Zilles checked the computer to locate where the Tricopatin files were stored and then directed them to the appropriate section of the large file room. "Will there be anything else?"

Jordan said, "We'll also need access to your computer records."

Zilles logged her on at a nearby terminal and pulled up the Tricopatin database files. She then turned to the inspectors and asked, "Anything else? Coffee?"

Wanting this all to seem routine, Ryan smiled. "Coffee would be nice. Thank you."

Zilles took their order and left the room. Ryan turned to Jordan. "Let's start digging."

Back in her own office, Jane dispatched a clerk to get coffee and dialed the cell phone number of Oscar Huggins. "Oh dear," she muttered under her breath when he didn't answer. His outgoing message said that he would be in a meeting until three o'clock and would return his calls the next day. She left a message.

"Hello, Dr. Huggins, this is Jane. Sorry to bother you but there are a couple of FDA inspectors here auditing the Tricopatin trial that we did five years ago. That's before my time, and I'm not sure if I can answer their questions. Please call me as soon as you're free."

Craven jimmied the rear lower-level door of an opulent suburban home and slipped inside. Before creeping upstairs to wait for Oscar Huggins, he screwed a silencer onto the long barrel of his Colt .45. His senses went on full alert when he heard Huggins's car in the driveway. As he heard the garage door open, he slid into the study closet.

Huggins tossed his keys on the counter, grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the fridge, and then went to his home office. Sitting down at his desk and riffling through some papers, he dialed up his voice mail and put his cell on speakerphone while he went through his paperwork. Seconds before barging out of the closet and pulling the trigger, Craven heard the message from Jane Zilles playing in the background. Hearing the word "Tricopatin," Craven backed off the kill and began to plot his next move.

Huggins picked up the phone and dialed his underling. "Yes, Jane, I got your message____Yeah, that's strange. Tell them I'll be there in about an hour, maybe longer if traffic's bad. If they ask you anything you don't know, tell them to wait for me. I'm on my way."

As Huggins prepared to leave, Craven snuck from the home the same way he had entered and sprinted back to his car parked two blocks away.
Not time to put this player to sleep yet. Got to follow him and see what these damn FDA inspectors are up to. Can't that Wiley control his own people? They're gonna fuck this up yet.

Back at K-Dar Labs, Jordan and Ryan hadn't found anything to shed light on the mystery. They were both riffling through the Tricopatin files when the cell phone rang. Jordan answered on the second ring. To her surprise, it was Jessica Barrin-ger, one of the NHCA patients. Since there were K-Dar employees in the room, she took the call in an outside corridor. She was, after all, answering as a tort attorney.

Mrs. Barringer had a mouthful for her. "You snakes are all alike. If it wasn't for that clinic, I would be dead today. My cancer has been in complete remission for the past two years. And it's not just me. Several of my very close friends who I met in the clinic have been cured as well. As far as I'm concerned, it's the best money I ever spent."

Shocked, Jordan tried to calm her but was cut off.

"Look," Barringer said, "I want you to stop calling me. If you sue the clinic, I'll be their star witness."

Jordan was about to speak when the phone went dead in her ear.

She put the phone away and returned to the file room. In utter disbelief, Jordan whispered, "You aren't going to believe this. That was Jessica Barringer, an NHCA patient so satisfied with her treatment that she's willing to lead a cheering section for the owners of the clinic. They did it. They're actually curing people."

Ryan was dumbfounded. "You've got to be
fucking
kidding me! That's not possible. Unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"Unless Eric was telling the truth. I can't believe it. They successfully altered my formula."

Oscar Huggins arrived a few minutes past 5:00 p.m., just as most of the employees were leaving the building. He hurried to Jane Zilles's office. She looked up with relief.

"They've been here all afternoon, sir. They haven't asked me anything. That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"That's fine, Jane. I'll take care of things. Is there anyone else still working?"

"Everyone else has gone home for the evening. I'm the only one left."

"Okay. You can go home now. I appreciate you waiting around."

"Oh, no problem. Well, goodnight then Dr. Huggins."

Back in his office, Huggins hurried to his computer, brought up a file with a few keystrokes, and deleted it without hesitation. He smiled.
They haven't gotten to it yet.

In the file room, Ryan looked over to see Jordan perusing a file, her face a mask of concentration. "What? Find something?"

"I couldn't find anything in the Tricopatin documents, so I decided to cross-reference your wife in the computer file. It led me to another file for Cindy, who was under the care of a Dr. Albert Seymour."

Ryan's interest grew. "Yeah?"

Jordan looked up at him. "The file includes the test results sent to the doctor."

"But I've already seen those."

"There are two sets of test results, Ryan. And the original one shows Cindy's cancer in complete remission." The air seemed to leave the room. Ryan felt faint.

"If you read them you'll find that the copy of the original has been altered. Look Ryan, as of her last test, Cindy's cancer was gone. There was no trace of it in the blood tests."

Ryan jumped out of his seat and grabbed the file. As he leafed through the pages, his anger boiled over. "Those sons of bitches! Why would they change her results?" His face began to redden.

Jordan stood and looped an arm over his shoulder. "Calm down. You look as if you could fall over." She took his arm and guided him back to his chair. He plopped down, his eyes scanning the file.

"Cindy would have lived. Jake and Karly would have lived," he mumbled. "They would have never gotten on that plane to Exuma. There would have been no reason to go to Exuma."

Ryan became lost in the past, going back to that awful day when he got the phone call:
There's been an accident. The plane you chartered has gone down in the ocean and everyone on board has been killed. We are deeply sorry for your loss.
He remem bered the gut-wrenching feeling, the suffocating grief. How could he bear the unbearable? The only solution was the numbness he found in the bottle. His only solace was to avoid feeling anything at all. And he had remained numb, avoiding emotion for all these years. And he had never questioned anything.

"Ryan!" Jordan was looking into his eyes with concern, her hands on each side of his face.

"Somebody will pay for this," he muttered. "Somebody will
pay."

Oscar Huggins walked into the file room with a
confident smile on his face, prepared to dispense with the stuffed-shirt FDA inspectors. He introduced himself, holding out his hand.

Suddenly, he was set upon by an outraged agent, who grabbed him violently by his lapels and pushed him up against the wall.

"You son of a bitch!" Ryan spat. "You took a million-dollar payoff and altered my wife's test results!"

Sweat beading across his upper lip, Huggins blubbered, "Now hold on!"
Are these new FDA tactics?

"No, you hold on! Here's the ledger from FSW showing the payout to you. Here are the altered test results you submitted to Dr. Seymour, and here are the real test results." With one hand still locked on Huggins's lapel, Ryan smacked the papers, file folder and all, against the man's face. Huggins fell against the wall as the folder hit him.

"Sit down," Ryan roared. "Read it!"

While Ryan and Jordan waited, Huggins nervously picked up the papers. Consumed with fear—
these people are definitely not from the FDA—
Huggins was unable to focus on the paperwork. But he knew these documents well. When he thought he had reviewed the papers long enough to be convincing, he said, "I . . . I really don't know what to say. I . . ."

"How can you fuck with people's lives like that?"

Huggins ran his hand through his thinning hair. "I was just . . . I did what I was told. I'm not aware of anyone being hurt. The money. It was just—"

"Too good to pass up? And who 'told' you what to do? Have you done this more than once?"

Huggins dropped his face into his hands and looked as if he might faint. "Yes. I . . . I've done it several times for the big companies. But they told me it was just to get past the FDA bureaucracy."

Ryan was incredulous. "No, you just took the money," he shouted in disgust. "And now my wife is dead."

"I figured you'd crack, you weasel."

All eyes turned to the doorway. William Craven was holding a Colt .45 semiautomatic in his right hand, leveled at Ryan's chest.