The Veritas Conflict (24 page)

“Yes, he is.”

“Who is Mr. Pike?”

“The boss of the boss.”

“How can someone be the boss of the company president?”

The executive secretary lowered her voice. “Since you’re the receptionist on the executive floor, I suppose you do need to understand a little of what goes on. Do you know what a holding company is, dear?”

“No.”

“A holding company is a sort of superstructure that owns either partial or full interest in lots of different types of companies. Well, Helion Pharmaceuticals—as huge as it is—is actually a subsidiary of a holding company. And Mr. Pike is the president of that holding company. It’s all rather low-key, but that’s why when Mr. Pike says jump, they jump.”

The young woman’s eyes grew big. “So if we’re one subsidiary … are there others?”

“I’m sure there are.” The executive secretary turned back to her computer, but the young woman didn’t notice the tacit dismissal. She was gazing off toward the elevators Mr. Statton had used.

“You know, yesterday I forgot something on my desk when I was leaving. I tried to get off at the thirty-ninth floor to turn around and come back.” She looked at the older woman, a frown on her face. “It wouldn’t let me. This computer voice said ‘enter access key.’ I didn’t know what it was talking about. Isn’t thirty-nine one of the Helion floors also?”

The secretary didn’t look up. “Yes, but only a few staff members have access to it.”

“But today when I was going down to lunch, there were tons of people that got
on
at thirty-nine. Who works down there?”

“There’s no need to concern yourself with that, dear. All you need to know is, when they say jump, you jump.”

Two flights down, James Statton held the phone to his ear, taking notes.

“The final papers were filed with the Securities and Exchange Commission last week … Oh yes, Victor, we made sure of that, especially after that stupid blunder last week. The SEC would notice any irregularities in a heartbeat. We went over them with a fine-toothed comb, just to be sure.

“What was that, Anton?… No, the investment bank is working up the IPO figures now. And don’t worry; I made sure that one of our Fellows is the principal on the deal.” He nodded. “Yes. Brenda. She’s very good. And she assures me that her entire team—Murphy and the others—is trustworthy. We won’t encounter any further problems from that quarter.…

“Well, from a market standpoint, right after the award would be the best time, as long as no leaks hit the street. And with the way this class-action is going … I know, I know.” His voice dropped in frustration. “Look, gentlemen, lets bottom line this thing: We are almost certainly going to need the cash for the settlement by January. Obviously, it’s your call, but I see no way around it. We can’t afford to wait to do the IPO. We have to have the cash in-house within the next two months.”

He leaned back in his chair, his face grim. “You know as well as I do that if the IPO doesn’t net at least a half billion, we might have to start divesting some business lines. I know taking the company public totally goes against the Cardinal Mandate, but I don’t see any other way.”

He listened for a long moment, and his face grew thoughtful. “Well, if any of the other presidents have ideas, let me know. In the meantime, I’m doing what I can here to increase our shadow cash flow, but there’s no way I can get a big enough jump without tipping somebody off. It’s not just the government—there are too many eyes in too many distribution channels.”

His face cracked in a tight smile. “It’s disgustingly ironic. The Cardinal Mandate is working; the shadow companies are the most profitable they’ve ever been; but just when we most need the infusion we can’t risk it. Not until after the SEC and the market analysts put away their microscopes. And you can’t use family money without attracting even
more
attention.”

Statton paused and cleared his throat. “And that, gentlemen, brings me to my next problem. We have a liability in our team. I have waited to mention this until I was sure, but I received confirmation today. A young Fellow in my reporting line has let several things slip in the past year or so. And today she told one of our executives here—a man who’d just been fired—of the truth behind the lawsuit.”

He winced away from the receiver, and his eyes narrowed at the sharp recriminations from the other end of the line. “Don’t lay this at my feet, gentlemen. That is why I’m telling you now. The truth absolutely cannot get out, and neither can we overlook so serious a security breach. It is up to you to decide what—”

He listened for a second. “What? Oh Johanna Godfrey. She’s four or five years out—currently managing the … oh, really? Well, since you know who I’m talking about, that should help your decision.” He nodded sharply. “Let me know if you need anything from me. Believe me, Victor, I want to know how this could have happened as much as you do.”

“No, he hasn’t left yet. I’ll transfer you.” At her station on the executive floor, the young receptionist punched a few buttons.

A loud crash made her jump in her seat. A thirtysomething man in an elegant navy wool coat went down on his knees on the marble floor of the entryway, trying to scoop files, papers, and personal items back into a cardboard box. Another bulging box sat on the floor next to him.

“Hey,” she grabbed an empty plastic bag from a drawer and scooted around the desk. “That won’t work. The bottom fell out. Here.”

The man took the bag and began clumsily transferring the items.

“You need more hands.” She smiled and held the bag open.

“Thank you. That’s awfully nice of you. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re too nice to be working here.”

She laughed.

“I mean it. You just started, didn’t you? Well, trust me. You’d do better to leave. This isn’t the place for people with a conscience.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I was fired.” As her eyes widened in shock, the man bent again to the pile on the floor. “Look, whatever your name is …”

“Heather.”

“Okay, Heather. You look like a young, idealistic person. I hate to break it to you, but this is not the nicest company to work for. That’s why we’re losing the big lawsuit.”

“What?”

“Oh man, didn’t anybody tell you?” He lowered his voice slightly. “Helion developed this wonder drug that calmed down hyperactive kids and kids with ADD. I have an eight-year-old with ADD, and I thought this medicine was a miracle. I thought Helion deserved every penny of the hundreds of millions the drug earned. Turns out, though, that the company knew all along that it was dangerous, that it affected the genetics of any kid taking it, so that
their Kids
would be likely to have ADD. And then
they
would need the drug.”

The receptionist’s lips parted in astonishment.

“Several years ago some outside person—thank God—documented the side effects and warned the world. Of course, thousands of families joined a class-action lawsuit against Helion. The company has fought it in the courts for years, but we’re in the final stretch, and we’re almost certainly going to lose. When that happens, Helion is going to have to come up with a lot of money to pay the families of these kids.”

“Is that why you’re having to leave?” The receptionist looked around the empty entryway.

“No. I’m having to leave because they knew I couldn’t do this anymore.” He slapped several picture frames into the bag, and the receptionist heard one of them
crack. “I rose through the ranks, but I was never really in their little group. For a while I bought into the idea that this is just the way business is done, but I woke up when my son was affected. I tried to bring some standards, some sort of integrity, into this business, but I found out that was really not what they wanted.”

He finished loading his stuff into her bag. He picked up the box as well, and they stood in the entryway facing each other. His voice was quiet.

“Heather, look. Today I found out that company insiders
knew
about the drug’s genetic side effects during clinical testing but suppressed the information. They knew the medicine would make millions, perhaps billions. They knew that children like my son would be genetically altered, but
they didn’t care
. They were creating the next generation of customers to line their pockets!”

“How do you know that?”

He punched the down button for the elevator. “I can’t go into it, okay? And I know better than to tell anyone on the outside. I have a family.”

“Wait—uh—what’s your name?”

“Jason Dugan.” The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside.

“Wait! Jason!” She slapped her hand against the side of the elevator door. “What’s on the thirty-ninth floor?”

Jason’s eyes were gentle. With a wry smile, he lifted her hand off the elevator frame and the doors closed, carrying him downward.

James Statton’s eyes narrowed, listening. “You want my honest opinion? I think the Enemy has made inroads, and everyone had better come armed with more than just inspiration at the next Nantucket meeting. We’re going to need it.”

He hung up the phone and crashed his fist against the table. A curse burst from his lips. That class-action lawsuit couldn’t have come at a worse time. He sat still for a moment, then settled deeper into his executive leather chair, resting his arms on the thick armrests. He leaned his head against the back of the chair, and his eyes flickered and rolled back in his head before his eyelids slowly closed. The Master would pick his sacrifice.

The sidewalks were crowded as workers poured from revolving glass doorways. The Friday afternoon bustle at the end of the workweek.

They flew noisily into the building—it was their territory, after all—and perched atop the modern art sculpture in the lobby. Their otherworldly eyes peered through the walls as the elevators made their swift descent. They saw the navy wool coat crowded in with others. That one.

The lead demon began to move, then saw the eagerness on his lackeys face. His aide was due a little rejuvenation; he had been in that skirmish last week. The lead demon crooked a finger at him and pointed.

The lackey jumped and headed upward, arriving at the top of the skyscraper in the blink of an eye. A maintenance man was standing by the elevator drive shaft, waiting. The lackey melded into his body.

A smirk crossed the maintenance man’s face. He flipped a red emergency stop switch on the drive motor, made a few adjustments to the controls, then pulled out a power tool and went to work on the end of the main cable.

The lackey looked down. Through layer upon layer of floors, he could see the eager eyes of thousands of colleagues. They had all heard. They paused in the middle of their tasks—by the water coolers, in the computers, on the desks—looking upward, watching.

The sound of the power tool was loud. The cable snapped. The sounds of terror, shock, and sadness rolled over the building like a wave. “For the Master!” the lackey cried. And as the sacrifice was completed, the revitalized troops took it in with deep, refreshing breaths then returned to their tasks in a much better frame of mind.

TWENTY-TWO

T
HE FIRE CAST A WARM GLOW ON THE RUG
in front of the hearth. Johanna Godfrey stretched in relaxed contentment, enjoying the feel of it against her skin.

“Here you are.” Victor returned with another glass of wine, his body pale against the shadows of the den. She leaned on her side and accepted the glass, sipping with pleasure. Chateau Lafite Rothschild ’66. Her favorite.

Victor ran his hand lightly down her side. “And then, my dear, we’d better get ready. There’s a midnight meeting of all the Fellows.”

“Tonight?” Johanna’s sense of ease dampened slightly. “I didn’t hear about it at the session today.”

“Perhaps,” he kissed her on the forehead, “you were too busy thinking about other things.”

Johanna set down the glass and leaned toward Victor, her blue eyes smoky. She pressed into his embrace, and her voice was soft in his ear. “Perhaps.”

He ran his fingers down her cheek, her throat. “Time to go.”

Johanna descended the last few stairs and pushed open the door to the large ground-level conference hall. It was empty.

“What …?”

Victor brushed past her and headed to the glass doors at the side of the room. He slid them open, letting in the cool ocean breeze that rose from the dark bluffs beyond. He gestured her forward. “They’re outside.”

He ushered her through the door and into the blackness of the great lawn. It was too dark to see other than a few feet in front of her and Victor on her right side.

At the far end of the lawn, she could finally make out a mass of gray figures waiting, but there were still no lights. A flickering movement caught her attention. Distant black shapes rose against the midnight sky blotting out the stars. She sucked in her breath. What were those?

She slowed her step, but Victor’s grasp was firm on her arm. “Come on. It’s almost midnight.”

“What’s going on?” She tried to wrench her arm free.

Victor smiled down at her. “You’ll see, dear one.” He propelled her onward.

By the time they reached the edge of the crowd, she was shaking. The gray shapes resolved themselves into people: James, Murphy, Brenda … They reached out and welcomed her into the group, smiling.

She relaxed a little under the attention, still perplexed. It wasn’t her birthday … she’d already had her four-year anniversary induction.… Others clapped her on the back or patted her on the arm as she moved forward through the crowd grasping Victor’s arm.

They were smiling at her, saying things she couldn’t quite make out: “…  the knowing of the elders … the Fellows dedicate you … as you are advanced … may the masters be pleased …”

She returned the smiles and nods of her friends. Was she being promoted?

They reached the edge of the bluffs. Victor turned toward her and cupped her chin with his hand, tilting her fece upward for a soft kiss. She stepped back, surprised. He had said no one could know of their liaison.

He advanced and cupped her chin again. She looked up into his eyes with a questioning smile. His eyes were black. Pure black. And something else …