Strong Medicine (50 page)

"Of course, the question we're all asking is: How soon will we get FDA

approval?"

There was a silence during which Celia sensed Sam hesitating, then he

said, "For the moment, this is confidential between you and me. But I can

say positively we will get FDA permission, and very soon."

"May I ask why you're so sure?"

"No.,'

"Okay." If Sam wanted to be mysterious, Celia thought, that was his

privilege, though between the two of them she could see no reason for it.

She asked, "Is everything good with Juliet?"

"And with my soon-to-be grandchild?" Sam chuckled. "I'm delighted to say,

yes."

Three months ago, Juliet and Dwight Goodsmith had happily announced

Juliet's pregnancy. The baby was due in January.

"Give Lilian and Juliet my love," Celia said, "and tell Juliet that with

her next pregnancy she'll be able to take Montayne."

"Will do. Thanks, Celia." Sam hung up.

While Celia was on the telephone, Andrew had gone into the bathroom to

shower, then dress, prior to a thirty-five-mile drive to Palo Alto where

they were due for dinner with Lisa and several newfound Stanford friends.

During the drive and the dinner, which was relaxed and cordial, neither

Celia nor Andrew referred to their argument at the hotel. At first there

was a coolness between them, but it disappeared as the evening

progressed. By that time, also, Celia had decided to leave well alone and

not raise the subject of Montayne with her husband again. After all,

everyone in the course of a lifetime had occasional mental blind spots

and-though it disappointed herthis was clearly one of Andrew's.

256

Sam Hawthorne, replacing the telephone after his Boonton-San Francisco

conversation with Celia, found himself wishing he had not made the

impulsive, positive statement he had concerning FDA approval of Montayne. It

was unwise and indiscreet. Why had he done it? Probably for no other reason

than the human one of seeking to impress another person-in this case Celia.

He must watch himself, he decided. Especially after his discussion an hour

ago with Vincent Lord and the decision they had reached jointly. It was a

decision that could have disastrous repercussions if it were found out,

though it must not be--ever. All the more reason, then, to let the FDA's

approval of Montayne, when it happened, seem natural and ordained. As it

should have been, and would have been, except for that arrogant,

insufferable, criminal bureaucrat at FDA I

It was sheer bad luck that the new drug application for Montayne had drawn

Dr. Gideon Mace as the reviewer.

Sam Hawthorne had not met Mace, and didn't want to. He had heard more than

enough about the man from Vince Lord and others, and about the trouble Mace

caused Felding-Roth, first with the unreasonable delay two years ago over

Staidpace, and now with Montayne. Why should people like Mace possess the

power they had, Sam fumed, and have to be endured by honest businessmen who

sought, from the Maces of this world, no more than equal honesty and

fairness?

Fortunately, people like Mace were a minority-at FDA a small minority; Sam

was certain of that. Just the same, Mace existed. He was currently sitting

on the Montayne NDA, using regulations, procedural tactics, to delay it.

Therefore a way to circumvent Gideon Mace had had to be found.

Well, they had a way. At least, Felding-Roth had, in the person of Vince

Lord.

Originally, when Vince had collected-no, make that bought-

257

evidence of criminality by Dr. Mace, purchased it with two thousand

dollars of Felding-Roth cash, the voucher for that cash now buried deep

in the travel expense account where auditors or the IRS would never find

it . . . at that time Sam had been angry, critical of Vince, and shocked

at the thought that the material might ever be used in the way which Vince

envisaged.

But not now. The existing situation affecting Montayne was too critical,

too important, for that kind of scruples anymore. And that was another

cause for anger. Anger because criminals Re Mace begat criminality in

others-in this case, in Sam and Vincent Lord -who had to use those same

low-grade tactics for reasonable selfdefense. Damn Macel

Still soliloquizing silently, in the quietness of his office, Sam told

himself. A penalty you paid for appointment to the top job in any large

company was having to make unpalatable decisions authorizing actions

which, if they happened elsewhere or in a vacuum, you would consider

unethical and disapprove of, But when you shouldered responsibilities

involving so many people, all of them dependent on you-shareholders,

directors, executive colleagues, employees, distributors, retailers,

customers-it was necessary at times to swallow hard and do what was

needed, however tough, unpleasant or repugnant it might seem.

Sam had just done that, an hour ago, in okaying a proposal by Vincent

Lord to threaten Dr. Gideon Mace with exposure and therefore criminal

charges if he failed to expedite the approval of Montayne.

Blackmail. No point in mincing words or hiding behind euphemisms. It

would be blackmail, which was criminal too.

Vince had laid his plan bluntly in front of Sam. Equally bluntly Vince

declared, "If we don't make use of what we have, putting pressure on

Mace, you can forget any idea of marketing Montayne in February, and

maybe for another year."

Sam had asked, "Could it really be that long-a year?"

"Easily, and more. Mace has only to ask for a repeat of-"

Lord stopped as Sam waved him to silence, canceling an unnecessary

question, remembering how Mace had delayed Staidpace for longer than a

year.

"There was a time," Sam reminded the research director, "when you talked

of doing what you're proposing without involving me."

"I know I did," Lord said, "but then you insisted on knowing where that

two thousand dollars went, and after that I changed my

258

mind. I'll be taking a risk and I don't see why I should take it alone. I'll

still handle the frontline attack, the confrontation with Mace. But I want

you to know about it, and approve."

"You're not suggesting we have anything in writing?"

Lord shook his head negatively. "That's another chance I'll take. If it

came to a showdown, you could deny this conversation ever happened."

It was then Sam realized that what Vince really wanted was not to be

lonely, not to be the only one to know what he was going to do. Sam

understood that. Loneliness was something else you experienced at the cop,

or near the top, and Vince was simply sharing his.

"All right," Sam said. "Much as I dislike myself for it, I approve. Go

ahead. Do what we have to." He added facetiously, "I assume you're not

wired for sound."

"If I were," Lord answered, "I'd incriminate myself as well as

YOU."

When the ncsearch director was on his way out, Sam called after him.

"Vince!"

Lord turned. "Yes?"

"Thanks," Sam said. "Just thanks, that's all."

So all that was necessary now, Sam reasoned, was to wait. Wait, just

briefly, with confidence that FDA's approval of Montayne would come

quickly, inevitably, soon.

Since their previous encounter, Vincent Lord was aware, some changes had

occurred in Dr. Gideon Mace. The FDA official looked older, which he was,

but also better than before, which was surprising. His face was less red,

the nose veins seemed less prominent. He had shed the shabby suit and

bought a new one, also new glasses, so he no longer squinted. His manner

seemed easier and, while still not friendly, was certainly less brusque and

not aggressive. Perhaps one reason for the changes-a reason Vincent Lord

had learned about through his contacts at the agency-was that Mace had

stopped drinking and joined Alcoholics Anonymous.

Apart from Mace personally, other things were the same or worse. The FDA

Washington headquarters was the same impersonal, shabby beehive. In the

cupboardlike office where Mace was seated at his desk there was more paper

than ever; it was piled high everywhere, like a rising flood tide. Even

crossing the floor one had to step around paper and files, put there for

lack of any other space.

259

Gesturing about him, Lord asked, "Is our Montayne NDA here somewhere?"

"Parts of it," Mace said. "I haven't room for it all. Montayne is what

you've come about, I suppose."

"Yes," Lord acknowledged. He was seated, facing the doctor, and even now

hoping there might be no need to use the photostatic copies that were in

a briefcase at his feet.

"I'm genuinely worried about that Australian case." Again in contrast to

the past, Mace's tone was reasonable. "You know the one I mean?"

Lord nodded. "The woman in the Outback. Yes, the case went to court where

it was thrown out, and there was also a government inquiry. Both times

the accusations were checked out thoroughly, and Montayne absolved."

"I've read all that stuff," Mace said, "but I want more details. I've

written to Australia for them, and when they come I may have still more

questions."

Lord protested, "But that could take months!"

"Even if it does, I'll be doing what I'm here for."

Lord made one last try. "When you held up our NDA for Staidpace, I

assured you it was a good drug, free from adverse side effects and

so-despite the unnecessary delay-it was. Now I'm promising you, based on

my reputation as a research scientist, exactly the same is true of

Montayne."

Mace said stolidly, "It's your opinion, not mine, that the Staidpace

delay was unnecessary. In any case, that has nothing to do with

Montayne."

"In a way it has," Lord said, knowing he now had no alternative, glancing

behind him to be sure the outer door was closed. "It has, because I think

what you are doing,to us at Felding-Roth relates not to our latest NDA,

but to your own state of mind. You have a lot of personal problems which

are getting the better of you, creating unfair prejudices, clouding your

judgment. Some of those personal problems have come to my company's

attention."

Mace bridled and his voice sharpened. "What the hell are you talking

about?"

"This," Lord said. He had the briefcase open and extracted papers. "These

are brokerage transaction slips, canceled checks, bank statements, and

other items which show you made over sixteen thousand dollars illegal

profit, utilizing confidential FDA informa-

260

tion concerning two generic drug companies, Binvus Products and Minto Labs."

Lord added the dozen sheets or so to the paper clutter already on Mace's

desk. "i think you should look these over carefully. I'm aware you've seen

them all before, but it may be news to you that someone else has copies.

And by the way, these are copies of copies. Keeping or destroying them will

do no good."

It was obvious that Mace recognized instantly the top itern--one of the