Vaccine Nation (5 page)

What the hell was with this contractor? Who was he? Some ex-Navy seal? Special Forces? Or just a scumbag who’d been trained how to kill? Why couldn’t he respect Madsen’s wishes as the client, put together the stuff that Madsen always got for his corporate deals.

How would he go about it if he was working on a deal? He’d use Steve Stiles, his main man. He dialed the phone, and Stiles was in Madsen’s office within five minutes. Stiles looked like hell when he walked in: breathless, his face flushed, his unflappable CFO’s calm undone. “I just got a call from Morgan in Human Resources,” Stiles said. “One of our researchers was murdered in New York City this morning.” Stiles plunked down hard in a chair in front of Madsen’s desk. “One of our own.”

“I know,” Madsen said, pursing his lips for effect. He stood up and walked over to close his office door, milking it for drama. “I know all about it. Not only that, I think someone in the industry had him murdered.”

He got the reaction he wanted, Stiles exhaling, then distractedly fingering his bowtie.

“Maguire was working on vaccines, some under development in joint ventures with other industry players. Maguire’s friend, McCloskey, was the whistleblower on KellerDorne’s Myriad painkiller. Bolton in R&D noticed Maguire was acting
increasingly withdrawn, even strange. So this morning, we think he had something in his hot little hand that seemed like dynamite he was ready to pass off to a girl who just won the award at the Tribeca Film Festival for best documentary, some shit about the impact of pharmaceutical drugs on our children. The same girl who interviewed McCloskey, the Myriad whistleblower.”

Stiles’ eyes regained some of his accountant composure, like he was scrutinizing a balance sheet Madsen had handed him to review. “How’d you find this out?”

“I told you. Bolton in R&D.”

Stiles didn’t look convinced. He now examined Madsen like he was a column of numbers. That blank-eyed stare was back. It looked to Madsen like he was about to ask, “How the hell’d
he
find all this out?” but he said, “Sounds like Maguire had something that was damaging to the industry.”

“We don’t know what he had, if he had anything at all, whether it was bogus, rigged, or for real. But it looks like somebody thought it was real and had him killed because of it. And now it seems this girl may have the data.”

“I think I know where this is going.”

“You got it. I need you to set up a war room. A full team of the appropriate experts, in this case heavy on the investigative guys you use for due diligence on deals. We’ll need a lot of feet pounding the pavement. And coordination with the NYPD, and whatever other police forces are involved.”

Stiles was shaking his head. “This is crazy. We aren’t cops. And what do we need to find her for? Where is she?”

“We don’t know. But the police think she killed a cop at her apartment who went there to pick up something from her a few hours after Maguire was killed. The police can’t find her and think she’s on the run.”

“So let the cops find her.”

“And what happens to Maguire’s data if they do? Or what happens to her, and that data, if whoever killed Maguire finds her first and kills her, too? Or if the cops do whatever they do to cop-killers.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Stiles said. “But if somebody from the industry killed Maguire to keep the data from getting out, and they kill her, too, then they’ll destroy the data.”

“But how do we know who killed Maguire? Maybe it wasn’t somebody from the industry. I’m just speculating. I don’t know any more than you do. And maybe it was to
get
the data and make sure it got publicized. But one thing I do know is the Senate hearings on vaccines next week could be the tipping point for the pharmaceutical industry. All the noise about revoking the immunity Congress gave us from lawsuits about damaged kids from the national vaccination program? And some data, bogus or not, with bad facts for the industry getting plopped down in the middle of that? Congress strips our immunity and the plaintiff’s bar gets ahold of whatever this information is, and we could get hit with lawsuits that will make the tobacco industry’s seem like routine slip-and-fall cases.”

Stiles didn’t answer for a moment, then said, “Something stinks. One of our people, one of our own people gets murdered today. And we’re talking about butting our noses into police business because of our own industry self-interest. We should let the cops find the killer, and the girl, and the data, if it exists at all, and figure out what it means afterward. This is none of our business.”

Madsen reared up in his chair, his breath come into his lungs in a huge gasp. “None of our business?” he shouted. “How could
it be any more our business? One of our researchers steals some research he either did with our R&D money, maybe even some of our joint-venture partners’ money, or fabricated—maybe a bunch of shit that could bring down our industry—then hands it over to some misguided do-gooder filmmaker bitch who now thinks she’s going to use it to win an Academy Award, and you’re saying it’s none of our business? I’m the CEO of this company, with a fiduciary obligation to protect it, its employees, customers and shareholders from the frivolous act of a dishonest employee. And you’re the CFO and I’m giving you a direct order to put this team together and find this fucking girl! Understand?”

Stiles stood up, “Message received.” He started toward the door, then turned and faced Madsen. “But I don’t like it. And in my experience, cops don’t like a bunch of PIs nosing around in their business, even if we tell them we’re only trying to help.”

“Then don’t tell the cops.”

Stiles didn’t answer, just turned and walked out the door.

What a cluster fuck.
Madsen wasn’t sure Stiles believed him, although he was certain Stiles would set up the team and make it a priority. But that was more pushback from him than usual. Still, nobody, except maybe the FBI, could do as good a job as Stiles of putting together a team to track the bitch down. Shit, probably half the guys at the PI firms he used were ex-cops and FBI who rented out by the hour, and didn’t give a shit about anything except getting paid.

Madsen realized he was wringing his hands. Now it wasn’t just the next quarter’s earnings at stake. If any of Madsen’s murder got traced back to him, he was toast. But even worse, if this girl had what he thought she had, his whole life’s work could be down the drain. The whole reason he’d gone into the pharma industry after medical school: because he couldn’t do squat as
some local Podunk doctor. Yes, he was making scads of money on the corporate side, that was obvious, but it wasn’t the point. He admitted to himself that his original reason for going into pharma, eradicating a whole generation of diseases, some grand scale notion he’d had in his 20s, wasn’t the point anymore, either. But since then the deals in his life had worked out perfectly. They brought him to Pharma International, the largest vaccine maker in the world. And he was sitting on top of it. Maybe the point now was about winning. He wasn’t sure, but this wasn’t the time to get into some soul-searching. One thing he was sure of: he wasn’t going to let some filmmaker take all he’d accomplished away from him. With his main man, Steve Stiles, on top of the situation, it wouldn’t be long before he had Maguire and his bullshit cause buttoned up. He glanced at the prepaid cell phone on his desk. Stiles finds her, the contractor takes care of her, and the data gets buried forever.

When Dani got upstairs to John McCloskey’s apartment, it was the first time since walking Gabe to school that morning she felt any sense of peace. After seeing Maguire murdered, her neardeath experience at her apartment and arguing with her own mother about what she should do, she was in the company of a friend. McCloskey was a dignified man in his early 60s, tall and lanky, with a graying head of hair and a demeanor like a college professor. His eyes twinkled as he greeted Dani with a handshake. His apartment was small, modestly furnished, with books and periodicals stacked on every horizontal surface. She remembered the cushy upholstered chair she’d sat in to interview him here in his living room as he guided her to it.

“Thanks for seeing me, John. I’m sorry I didn’t call but I’m sure you’ve heard the news about David Maguire.”

“Yes, quite a tragedy. I understand he was shot right in front of you. I saw it on the news.”

Dani’s neck went cold as he said it. She wondered if she’d ever stop having that reaction. “It was horrible. I don’t see how I can ever forget it. But I don’t know if you’ve heard what’s happened since then.”

McCloskey shook his head. Dani thought he seemed more subdued than usual, even guarded.

“After the police finished questioning me I went back to my apartment. A cop—he may or may not have been a real cop—came to my apartment and tried to kill me. I was able to escape. Then I saw on the news that another cop was killed in my apartment.”

McCloskey was listening, not responding.

Dani wondered how to bring up the USB flash drive, then just blurted out, “Maguire gave me something just before the man shot him.” Dani pulled the USB flash drive out of her blazer pocket. McCloskey arched his neck back and squeezed the arm of the sofa, in visible discomfort.

“Please don’t do that,” he said.

“What? Why not?”

“You’re in danger.”

“No kidding. Just before the man tried to shoot me in my apartment he said, ‘where is it?’ It must be what’s on this flash drive. The cops are after me now, too, because they think I may be involved in the murder of the cop in my apartment. Maybe even with Maguire’s murder.”

“It’s probably a setup,” McCloskey said.

Dani got an uncomfortable sensation in her chest. “I came here to have you help me look at this flash drive on your computer, see what’s on it. Maybe you can help me interpret it.”

“I don’t think I can be helpful.”

What?
“What do you mean?”

“David and I were friends for years. I knew he was working on something, compiling data that Pharma International probably didn’t want to get out. And the fact he contacted you and brought it with him meant he had something that was probably explosive. We’re on the eve of the Senate hearings on vaccine safety and immunity for the pharmaceutical industry. The timing of David’s visit to you can’t be a coincidence.”

“Then help me get whatever’s on this USB memory drive publicized. You were in the same position when you blew the whistle on KellerDorne.”

McCloskey leaned forward. “No, I wasn’t. I gotmyinformation about the heart attacks Myriad was causing, and KellerDorne’s cover-up about them made public before KellerDorne could get to me. I was safe. But David failed. They got to him first. The same way they would’ve gotten to me if they’d had the chance. Once it’s public, they can’t kill you because it does them no good. But before that, anything goes.”

He isn’t going to help.
She got a sagging sensation in her limbs. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean I can’t help you. David didn’t make it. And now whatever he had, whatever he’s given to you, is radioactive.”

Dani felt a flash of anger.
You mean you won’t help me.
“You’re betraying the cause.”

McCloskey shrugged. “Your cause isn’t my cause. David’s cause isn’t my cause. With Myriad, I learned something I had to disclose, as long as I could do it without getting killed. I’m not
getting killed for something I don’t know anything about. I can’t help you, and whatever’s on that flash drive, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll bury it.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You, the man who contacted me to get his story out through the
Crusador.
You believed in it. You believed in the cause, not specific to what you were talking about with Myriad, but the cause.”

McCloskey looked at her, stonefaced.

Dani continued. “The cause in which we’re all aligned against these bastards who’ll take it away from us. Take our children’s health. Take our mental health. Take our freedom to choose. Take our ability to wake up every morning with a clear head, whether it’s troubled or racked with a lack of sleep or confidence, but a clear head, not one fogged with chemical interference. And certainly not drugged up by a program supported by a government mandate we don’t believe in.”

“Come on, Dani, we can’t make that big a difference.”

“No? You don’t think your whistleblowing on Myriad made a difference? That your interview in the
Crusador
opened peoples’ eyes to the risks from these miracle pharmaceuticals? You don’t think you gave people a profile they could use to evaluate other drugs, put the wood to their doctors, hold their shrinks at arm’s length before accepting their prescriptions?” McCloskey sat upright, stiff, like Dani had him in her crosshairs and he was afraid to move or she’d pull the trigger. “So you’re going to sit back and do nothing? You’re prepared to allow something that might be ten times more important than Myriad to wither and die because you’re too afraid to get involved?” She leaned forward for emphasis. “I can’t believe that.”

McCloskey threw himself forward in his seat. “I’m not going to die for something I don’t believe in!”