Bliss (7 page)

It only seated seventy, but as with everything else associated with Imec, it was first class all the way. A sunken podium, backed by a movie-sized viewing screen, faced rows of thick padded chairs, all of which had drop-down desktops attached to the right arm.

When Lindsey arrived, the room was full. Seated in the front row were a dozen unfamiliar faces that Stephen Vetter was introducing to several staff members. Lindsey recognized many of the other faces from office functions she’d attended. On the stage facing the audience, were three chairs. One was for her, the other two, for Vetter and Katherine Blair. Katherine was already seated when Lindsey plopped down. She gave Katherine a tentative smile and Katherine nodded.

Stephen Vetter came back to the podium, welcomed everyone, and then began his introduction.

“Life is stressful, ladies and gentleman. Think about all the times in your life when you just wanted a little peace and quiet. A little less noise, a little more laughter, an extra hour of sleep. Unfortunately with the pace of today’s world, those things are not always possible. So what do we do? We cope.”

As he spoke, Vetter worked the room with his eyes, putting on a show for the guests. The speech was more to convince potential investors of the need for a drug like Bliss than to share in the findings of the research and marketing staff.

Vetter continued. “But what happens if we can’t cope anymore. In the interest of our short hour here, I’ll not elaborate about all the problems stress disorders can cause. Everyone in the audience is familiar with them. That’s our job as a pharmaceutical company. Sadly, I’m here today to say, we as an industry, have failed the public. Many of you out there may disagree. That’s fine, you’re entitled to, but before you go rolling your eyes, look at the statistics. Five out of ten people are severely depressed. Six out of ten suffers some kind of anxiety disorder. And psychiatric diagnosis’ are on the rise. Despite a whole new class of drugs. Some may argue that’s because of better diagnostic tools. However, I’m here to offer a different explanation. And it’s very simple.”

Vetter paused for dramatic effect.

“Patients are abandoning their medication because of unpleasant side effects. You can’t feel better if your medicine is making you sick.”

Lindsey shifted in her seat. It would be her turn to speak in a moment. She scoured her notes, then looked back to the podium.

“Now,” Stephen Vetter said, “here at Imec, we have the solution to that problem. We call it, Bliss. And it’s the next generation serotonin reuptake inhibitor. Unlike its predecessors, however, we have proven it in clinical trials to be completely free of side effects, no different from a placebo. And now to explain the many benefits of Bliss, is the designer of the drug. It is my honor to introduce Dr. Katherine Blair.”

Lindsey’s jaw went slack. Not only was Katherine Blair,
not
the designer of the drug, she had confided in Lindsey that she was barely familiar with it until a few months ago. Katherine herself looked equally stunned as she stood and strode to the podium. Before she could speak, the door to the auditorium burst open and slammed against the wall. Everyone jumped, especially Vetter.

Standing in the doorway was Dr. Sid Collett. His nose was rosy and bulbous and his hair was uncombed. His lab coat partially covered his wrinkled khakis and red golf shirt. In his raised right hand he clutched a sheaf of papers. His eyes took in the audience then trained in on Vetter.

“I want to talk to you about a couple of your former employees, Vetter. And you, Katherine,” Collett shouted. He threw her a disgusted look. “I don’t know what kind of company you’re running here, but I can tell you this, something is very wrong.”

Katherine looked at Vetter. “Do something,” she said through clenched teeth.

Lindsey took a rapid glance around the room and assured herself everyone else was as shocked as she was.

“Dr. Collett,” Vetter said, “you’ll have to excuse us, we’re having a seminar here. If you would lik–“

”I know exactly what you’re doing, Vetter. You’re trying to sell that poison you call medication. Dr. Meyer knew it. He tried to warn you. Look what it got him.” Collett stalked toward the podium.

Vetter leaned back and bore down on Collett.

“Dr. Collett, I’m telling you for the last time. You leave now or I’ll have security remove you. If you’d like to meet with me, I’ll be happy to accommodate you if you’ll call my office.”

“Why, so you can take care of me like you did Dr. Meyer?”

“That’s it, you old fool! I warned you.”

Vetter stormed over to the wall phone and yanked the receiver from its cradle. He made a quick phone call, and had barely hung up, before two beefy security guards hurried through the door. Vetter made a gesture toward Collett and pointed to the door with his thumb. The two guards grabbed Collett under the elbows and carried him toward the exit.

“Don’t believe anything he tells you,” Collett screamed as they carried him out the door.

Lindsey could hear his voice echoing down the corridor all the way to the elevators.

“Don’t believe anything he tells you!”

Collett pulled himself loose from
the two guards and stormed out the front door of Imec. He trudged across the parking lot and toward his car, cursing under his breath. He climbed into his small compact and mopped his brow with his sleeve.
Maybe he’d visit his favorite pub? Someone might listen to him?

Collett paused. He felt a growing chill inside as he gazed at the immense Imec structure. Disquieting images swirled in his mind–the blood work, the sick employees’, Meyer’s death, the implications if Vetter put Bliss to market. He had dedicated his whole life to medicine and its safety, only to be terminated for telling the truth.

People were going to die if someone didn’t act.

He turned away and started his car. Ten minutes later, and six miles up the road, he saw the sign for the Cowboy Grill. It was a favorite hangout for the over-fifty crowd and he’d spent many hours there since Imec moved to Phoenix. After his wife died, he’d started drinking after work, and found himself there till closing, some nights. With no one at home, the regulars there became like a family to him. Many of the patrons were men his own age that come to Phoenix to improve their health, after retirement. They always relied on Collett to answer their medical questions.

In the entryway, Collett took off his lab coat and hung it on one of the pegs that stuck from a small board. He went straight to the bar and the bartender saw him coming and drew his favorite beer.

The room was constructed of unfinished oak that had an aged look from three decades of use. A huge Buffolo head dominated one wall.

Collett scanned the room. From his perspective, the cast of characters looked like it came from the movie
Cocoon.
He saw Tom Benson, a retired banker he’d met his first week in town. Benson sat in a booth with Ned Hoak, an ex-Marine Colonel who still sounded like he was barking orders when he talked. At another table, Dr. Davis Barlow chatted with Dr. Steve Kain, co-owners of a successful orthopedic practice in Scottsdale. Both near the verge of retirement. He considered talking to them about Imec. But he abandoned the idea immediately. They undoubtedly belonged to Scottsdale Country Club, and it might get back to Vetter that he had bad mouthed the company. Besides, all they liked to talk about was golf. A sport Collett despised. They weren’t likely to be a receptive audience for his accusations.

For a moment, Collett debated whether to just leave and go buy a bottle, rather than have to deal with these people. The regulars he’d expected were not here yet. Then he realized that it was only twelve o’clock, much earlier than he usually showed up. His work had normally kept him till five or six.
Not anymore.

He ignored everyone and sat at the bar with his beer. He nodded thanks to the bartender.

An hour later, after several more beers and with the rest of the patrons clearing out, Collett decided to go home. His head hurt and he needed some sleep. The past few nights had been nothing more than a fitful attempt at rest that had left him exhausted. The beer only exaggerated the fatigue. He paid his bill and left, his head now throbbing like a bad tooth.

When he arrived home, he grabbed the Imec files off the front seat, and shoved them into his lab coat. Closing the front door, he tossed the folders on the dining room table and went to the medicine cabinet to look for some pain relief for his misery. Banging at his front door stopped him halfway across the living room. Collett looked at his watch.
Who could that be now?

Collett opened the front door. “Yes?”

Before an answer came, something shot toward his head. A black wooden cylinder smashed into the side of his skull with a blinding impact and cut a deep groove in his scalp. A second blow ripped off a chunk of Collett’s ear and sent him reeling onto the living room floor.

He collided with the coffee table, his hands clutching the sides, him trying to get up. Tiny jets of blood jumped from the scalp wound onto the carpet. He pushed himself up just enough to see his attacker coming back for a third blow.

As the weapon came down, Collett reached up and grabbed the assailant’s arm, impeding the attack. It still caught him across the nose. Fresh blood ghouted from his nostrils and a white-hot bolt of pain shot through his head.

Collett grabbed a porcelain figurine from the coffee table and jammed it into the assailant’s right eye, temporarily blinding him. The man cursed and Collett saw blood trickling from the eye.

For a minute the two struggled against each other, but Collett was no match for the man’s incredible brute force. The attacker raised the wooden rod high over his head and bludgeoned Collett’s outstretched arm. The bones in his forearms snapped like dry twigs. He cried out in agony and tried to crawl away.

Finally, the assailant brought the rod down unhindered on the now hapless Collett. He felt the excruciating pain of the final blow as his skull caved in and a sharply defined fragment of bone went deep into his brain.

Sid Collett collapsed on the carpet as if his body had suddenly liquefied.

Stephen Vetter’s estate stood in
an exclusive precinct of Scottsdale, north of Phoenix. In the year since he had acquired it, he had installed a gigantic pool, and an elaborate water garden, complete with colored fountains that erupted in brilliant rainbow colors when programmed to activate. Gated and guarded like a small palace, lush, meticulous groundskeeping obscured the dimensions of the house itself. Vetter’s life had been a long, sometimes painful process of acquisition. He had increased his sizable inheritance tenfold through land deals, leveraged buyouts, and an almost predatory instinct for knowing when an opponent was at his or her weakest. Even his marriage had been a sort of business move; he had found Monique when he was strapped for money. Vetter combined their wealth, and after she drowned in a boating accident, between her portfolio and the sizable insurance policy he held on her, he was soon flush with cash again.

Now, as he stood gazing out his bedroom window, the sound of approaching footfalls ceased those thoughts.

“Stephen. Lindsey Walsh and her fiancé have arrived. Shall I introduce them to everyone?”

Vetter spun around. “No, Katherine, I think I’d like to do that myself. Why don’t you fetch another bottle of champagne? I’ll be down in a minute.”

Katherine glared at Vetter. “I though that’s what the help was for.”

“You
are
help, Katherine, you are.”

Vetter came down the steps and paused in the foyer, a huge marble entrance with a crystal chandelier that rivaled any he’d ever seen. Beyond the door, Lindsey Walsh and her fiancé came up the granite steps and thru the door. Vetter took in the contrast of the petite Lindsey Walsh against the figure behind her. He was at least six five and looked solid as a mountain. Vetter, more bantam size, felt slightly intimidated when he walked over to greet them.

“Lindsey, glad you could make it. And this must be Jason.” Vetter offered his outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jason. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I’ve seen a lot of you, too, on my hidden camera.

“This place is fabulous,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t know they made pools that big.”

Vetter smiled. I hope you two brought your suits. But if you didn’t, don’t worry; I’m sure Katherine can find one to fit you, and I can find one for the big guy here. Might be a little snug?”

Jason laughed. “Actually we did bring them. We’re wearing them. You know... under.”

“Yes... of course. Well, come in and let me introduce you to a few people. Lindsey, I might need to steal you away for a few minutes from this guy. I have some important clients here I’d like you to chat with about our marketing plan for Bliss. If you don’t mind, of course?”

Lindsey looked at Jason for his approval.

“Sure, that’s no problem,” he said.

*   *   *

Lindsey spent a couple hours mingling with the crowd, most of whom were doctors, medical company CEO’s, and pharmaceutical executives like herself. She spotted Jason near the pool, talking to a Kenny Rogers look alike. Lindsey had not seen the man she expected to find here. If Frank Deldeo was here, he was unseen somewhere. She combed the entire party under the guise of introductions, but at the same time, keeping her eyes peeled for Deldeo. After her shocking encounter with him earlier in the week, she was determined to find out what he was doing in Phoenix, and more importantly, what connection he had to Stephen Vetter.

Lindsey decided to look around the rest of the mansion, and see if she could spot him. She left the kitchen area and slipped upstairs unnoticed to the second floor. At the top landing, she heard voices. It sounded like two people in a vigorous argument. She tiptoed toward the sound and then stopped outside a double mahogany door. She pressed her ear to the panel and listened:

“I don’t care. That old fool didn’t know anything.”