Diamond Solitaire (28 page)

David Flexner stepped up to play his part as Chairman. He invited questions.

A bearded man near the front made the point that certain drugs patented by other pharmaceutical companies had appeared to produce remarkable improvements in Alzheimer's patients, but the effects had proved only temporary. In two years, the deterioration had set in again. Was there any real possibility, he asked, that PDM3 could sustain the improvement?

Churchward answered the question so smoothly that it might have been seeded before the conference, and perhaps it had been. "Of course I'm aware of the products you're referring to, sir, and I agree that they have disappointed as long-term remedies. There are six drugs to my knowledge that have been undergoing tests intended to give a boost to the cholenergic system that produces acetylcholine. It is beyond dispute that a certain amount of success has been achieved. Unfortunately, as you just implied, the duration is severely limited. The reason—and this is a personal opinion—would appear to be that the nerve cells that produce the acetylcholine continue to die. Our own approach, with PDM3, is quite different, for we are actually regenerating those cells. Our experiments in Indiana and at our other centers in Tokyo and London have been running for seven years, and no significant deterioration has been observed. Clearly the patients get older—let's not forget that we are dealing mainly with geriatrics—but our tests and interviews are consistently encouraging. There is, of course, documentary backup that some of my colleagues will present this afternoon. Next question."

A woman to the right of Diamond asked if any adverse drug reactions to PDM3 had been reported.

"Remarkably few," Churchward told her. "Every drug produces some unwanted reactions, but in this case they are negligible. The majority of volunteers reported no untoward effects."

"Maybe they forgot," Diamond muttered to Eastland in a facetious aside. He was becoming irritated by the smoothness of Churchward's presentation.

"Fewer than twenty percent of our volunteers reported mild dizziness, but this is notoriously difficult to assess, and was of short duration," Churchward added. "Five percent of those taking the placebo also reported dizziness. It isn't perceived as a serious problem."

Diamond leaned closer to Eastland and told him in a low voice that he was going out to make a phone call. It may have sounded remarkably like a smoker's excuse for a quick drag outside the room, but it was genuine. He was in the seat closest to the aisle, so he was able to move out without disturbing anyone.

When he returned ten minutes later, the question and answer session was still in progress. Someone asked if PDM3 could be described as a "smart drug."

"That's not a term a serious biochemist would use, madam," Churchward answered, "but I know what you're referring to, and you have touched on a matter of real significance. It's estimated that up to 100,000 healthy Americans take drugs daily in the expectation of increasing their mental capacity. Call them cognitive enhancers or smart drugs, the point is that their effects are as yet unproven. I read somewhere that as many as 160 cognitive enhancers are under development, many of them being vasodilators. Do you know what I mean by that? A vasodilator has the effect of widening the blood vessels, thus increasing the supply of blood to the brain. However, if your blood supply is normal, there's no evidence that vasodilators will make you any smarter. I have yet to be convinced that any of the so-called smart drugs are effective. And yet..."

The professor paused, smiled slightly, and then leaned forward like a preacher, with one finger raised to focus the attention of his listeners. He need not have troubled, for they were totally attentive. "... PDM3 raises exciting possibilities. This afternoon, I shall give you details of a limited experiment that we undertook with a group of student volunteers. It's well known that certain highly intelligent people have poor memories. We administered PDM3 to twenty undergraduates from the University of Corydon in Indianapolis. Three of them were consistently below average scorers on memory tests and there is no question that the drug produced a marked improvement in their mental performance. We're not talking about forgetful elderly people here. This is something else. And now ..." Churchward folded his arms and kept everyone in suspense for a moment. "... I want to take it a stage further. In Phase Three of our tests, I propose to examine in a wide-scale test the ability of this remarkable drug to regenerate and prolong the mental capacities of normal people. If our prehminary findings are right, the implications;—for individuals, for society, as a whole, for the economy, for the welfare of our nation, the progress of mankind, are truly—"

"Mind blowing?" the questioner suggested.

Churchward smiled. "I'm tempted to say that anyone taking PDM3 runs no risk of having his mind blown. But, yes, we can scarcely imagine the potential of such a discovery."

It seemed a good note on which to end, or so David Flexner thought, because he reached for the microphone. "Unless there are any other questions, ladies and gentle-men—"

"Yes, I have one more, if you don't mind." Suddenly Peter Diamond was on his feet. He hadn't planned to intervene so publicly as this and he hadn't discussed it with Lieutenant Eastland (who muttered, "Jesus!"). Only in the last few minutes had he come to a decision to fire a broadside across the bows of the two well-defended men at the front. A scare at this stage, when they thought they were fully in control, might panic them into revealing something really culpable— if they were implicated. "This session was to have been chaired by Mr. Michael Leapman. What is the significance of his absence?"

Flexner's right hand went straight to his long hair and raked through it. "Mr. Leapman is, um ... Excuse me, sir, this is an organizational matter. I don't see that it has any relevance to what we have heard."

"Ah, but it has," Diamond insisted. "It's well known that Mr. Leapman is strongly identified with this drug. He promoted it actively within your company. He, more than any other individual, is responsible for this conference, for the decision to go into Phase Three of the testing. Yet he isn't here this morning. What are we to make of this, Mr. Flexner? Does it mean that Michael Leapman has gone cold on the project?"

Flexner was staring. "Sir, would you mind telling me who you represent?"

"My name is Diamond."

This simple statement made a satisfying impact. Men don't return from the dead all that often, and David Flexner had not been informed that Diamond had survived his dip in the Hudson River. His hair didn't stand on end, but in every other respect he gave a fair impression of a man seeinga ghost.

To give him time to find his voice again, Diamond went on to say, "I'd better identify myself properly. I'm a detective working with Lieutenant Eastland of the New York Police Department, with whom you are acquainted. He's sitting beside me, in case you can't see from there. But my question was about Mr. Leapman. As you no doubt know, he has gone missing. I think your audience is entitled to know the circumstances."

Flexner looked more bloodless than the specter in front of him. "It has no relevance," he managed to say.

Churchward got up and spoke to Flexner and his remark was close enough to the mike to be heard all over the room.

"Let's wrap this up fast."

No one else had any desire to leave. Diamond said, "You may prefer to wrap it up fast, gentlemen, but the rest of us won't be impressed if you do. Mr. Michael Leapman has disappeared from his house in suspicious circumstances. A certain amount of damage has been done inside his house in New Jersey. There are signs of a scuffle. Overturned furniture. Bloodstains. His car is missing. I believe you were informed of this when you tried to call him this morning."

Flexner appeared to give a nod.

Seeing that his Chairman was bereft of words, Professor Churchward reached for the microphone and said, "This is a scientific conference, not a police investigation. We're sorry to hear about the attack on Michael, but with all due respect it has no bearing on what we are discussing today."

Diamond said at once, "I believe you're mistaken there. You've assumed that Mr. Leapman was the victim of an attack."

"But you just described it," said Churchward.

"No, Professor, I described the scene at the house. The evidence is that the attack was faked."

There were gasps. Everyone had turned to hear what Diamond was saying.

"I was doubtful of the setup anyway, so I asked the forensic lab to check the blood spots found at the scene. I phoned to get the results a few minutes ago." Savoring the moment, he found a wicked way of prolonging it. "As mere are so many scientists present, you may care to know that they test whether it's human by diluting it and bringing it into contact with animal serum. There should be a precipitin reaction between the human protein and the animal serum. A white line forms. No white line was found in this case. The forensic people have a good stock of antisera from a variety of animals." He paused. He was as capable as Churchward of working an audience. "The blood spots in Michael Leapman's living room were bovine in origin, probably from calf liver, which is as bloody as most things one keeps in a freezer." Again he waited, allowing the facts to sink in. "So I'm bound to ask whether either of you gentlemen has any idea why Mr. Leapman should have gone missing in these suspicious circumstances at this crucial time."

Churchward was careful to switch off the mike before conferring with Flexner, who had a glass of water to his lips.

Diamond remained standing.

Without getting up, Lieutenant Eastland muttered reproachfully, "You could have told me first."

"There wasn't time."

"Was this what you were setting up this morning when I came in?"

"With the lab, yes. I called them back just now. The beef test was the first they tried."

"I thought you were ordering a sandwich."

David Flexner switched on again and did his best to sound composed: "We are not aware of any reason for the incident that has just been described. Michael Leapman has served as our Vice Chairman with honor and distinction for many years. We regret what has just been reported, but we can't see that it has any connection with our business here today. The program will resume after lunch. That is all I have to say at this time."

The press closed in on Diamond.

* * *

"Satisfied?" Eastland asked, when Diamond had finally shaken off the last of them.

"I'm not here for satisfaction. I'm here to find out how much Flexner and the professor know about Leapman's activities."

"So what did you learn?"

"Flexner, at least, was genuinely fazed. I'm less certain about the professor."

Eastland appeared to concur. "He's a different type. More mature as a personality. His mind was on damage limitation."

"That was my impression, too. A cool customer. I suspend judgment on Professor Churchward."

"His sort wouldn't be fazed if King Kong stepped into the conference."

"But that doesn't make him a guilty man."

"Want another look at him? He's taking the afternoon session."

Diamond said he had other plans. While the big shots were away, he was going to visit the Manflex Building. He meant to find out for himself whether Flexner had concealed anything of importance the evening before when he was being questioned about Yuko Masuda's file entry.

"You won't get in there without a warrant," Eastland told him. "They have security like a state pen."

"Want a bet?"

"Sure."

"I bet you the price of a meal, then," Diamond suggested.

"One of
your
meals? Get away."

Both men grinned. They worked better now they had the measure of each other.

Later, fortified by a sandwich (or two) he bought himself, Diamond stepped from a limousine and strutted confidently towards the front entrance of the Manflex Corporation. The security guard'—happily one he hadn't met on the previous visit—asked for his pass. Diamond admitted that he didn't possess a pass. He had something better.

"What's that?"

"A British passport"

"Mister, are you trying to be funny?"

"No, I'm giving you the chance to verify my name. I'm Peter Diamond."

"Am I supposed to have heard of you?" said the guard, a mite more cautiously.

"I'm glad you asked the question. You'd better give some thought to the answer." Diamond peered at the man's identity disc. "Officer William Pinkowitz."

Anyone who has played the power game knows that you put a man on the defensive by using his name. "Are you something in Safe Haven Security?"

Diamond repeated in a scandalized tone, "Something in it?"

"Do you work for us?"

"I wouldn't put it that way, but you're getting there." All this was an exercise in psyching out that he had used in various guises many times before.

"But you're not American."

"Didn't I just make that clear?" He left the wretched man dangling a moment longer before saying, "Safe Haven is just a subsidiary of Diamond Sharp International."

"Diamond Sharp..."

"International. Do you want to check with your superior?"

There was a certain amount of hesitation before Officer William Pinkowitz apparently decided that to cast any more doubt on the word of Peter Diamond was a risk he'd rather not take. "I'll just take a look at that passport, sir."

"Certainly."

After an interval came the inevitable, awed, "You're a Detective Superintendent?”

"You're doing a good job, Pinkowitz. Keep it up." He walked into the building. Behind him, he heard Pinkowitz's heels click in salute.

He got out of the elevator at the twenty-first floor, from which, he'd been told, Manny Flexner had jumped to his death. A woman was coming along the corridor and wasn't the sort to walk shyly past Thirtyish, with dark hair, brilliant makeup and, of all things, a kiss-curl in the center of her forehead, she couldn't wait to find out what he was doing there with his black eye and battered face. She called out when she was still fully fifteen yards away, "Can I help you?"