Strong Medicine (66 page)

retained on the advice of Felding-Roth's regular lawyers.

Quentin, Celia learned, was known among colleagues as "Mr. 0. C. Fixit,"

the initials denoting "out of court." This because of his negotiating

skill-"he has the nerve of a high-stakes poker player," a company lawyer

commented-in knowing just how far to go in getting claims resolved without

court proceedings.

Celia decided early that she would trust Childers Quentin. It also helped

that she liked him.

"What you and I must do, my dear," he informed her as if addressing a

favorite niece, "is make swift settlements that are reasonable and

generous. Those last two points are essential in containing a disaster

situation such as this. About being generous, remember the worst thing that

could happen is for one Montayne case to go into civil court and result in

a multimillion-dollar jury award. It would set a precedent for other awards

which could break your company."

Celia asked, "Is there really a chance of settling everything out of

court?"

"A better one than you might think." He went on to explain.

"When grievous, irreversible damage is caused to a child, such as is

happening with Montayne, the first reaction of parents is despair, the

second, anger. In their anger the parents want to punish those

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who caused their grief; therefore they seek a lawyer's help. Above all, the

parents want-as the clich6 goes-their day in court.

"But we lawyers are pragmatic. We know that cases which go to court are

sometimes lost, and not always for just reasons. We also know that pretrial

proceedings, crowded courts, as well as defenseengineered delays, may cause

it to be years before a case is heard. Then, even if won, appeals can drag

on for years more.

"Lawyers know, too, that after that first flush of anger their clients will

become weary and disillusioned. Trial preparations can dominate their

lives. These are personally consuming, an ever-present reminder of their

sorrow. Invariably, people wish they had settled early and resumed, as best

they could, their normal living."

"Yes," Celia said, "I can understand all that."

"There's more. Personal-injury lawyers, which is the kind we'll be dealing

with, look to their own interests as well as clients'. Many take a

damage-claim case on a contingency fee basis, so they receive a third,

sometimes more, of what is won. But the lawyers have their own bills to

pay-office rent, their children's college fees, mortgage installments, last

month's American Express account . . ." Quentin shrugged. "They are as you

and 1. They would like their money soon, not doubtfully in the distant

future, and that is a factor in achieving settlement."

"I suppose -,o." Celia's mind had drifted during the last exchange, and now

she said, "Some days, since coming back here, I get a feeling of being cold

and calculating, thinking only in money terms about Montayne and all that's

happened."

Quentin said, "I already know you well enough to believe that will never

occur. Also, my dear, in case you think otherwise I assure you I am not

indifferent, either, to this terrible tragedy. Yes, I have a job to do, and

I will do it. But I am a father and a grandfather, and my heart bleeds for

those destroyed children."

From this and other sessions, a target was set for a rurther fifty million

dollars to meet possible settlements.

Also looming was an estimated cost of eight million dollars for the

withdrawing, recalling and destruction of all supplies of Montayne.

When Celia relayed these totals to Seth Feingold he nodded gravely, but

seemed less alarmed than she expected.

"We've had two fortuitous happenings since the beginning of the year," the

comptroller explained. "One is exceptionally good results from our O-T-C

products, where sales are much greater than

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anticipated. There also is a large, unexpected and 'once only' profit from

foreign exchange. Ordinarily, of course, our shareholders would benefit.

As it is, both windfalls will have to go toward that added fifty-million

reserve."

"Well, let's be grateful to both sources," Celia said. She remembered

that this was not the first time 0-T-C products, which she once

disdained, had helped keep Felding-Roth solvent in time of trouble.

"Another thing that seems to be working for us," Seth continued, "is the

promising news from Britain. I assume you're aware of it,"

"Yes. I've read the reports."

"If it becomes necessary, on the strength of them the banks will lend us

money."

Celia had been delighted to learn of progress at the Harlow institute

from where an exciting new drug, Peptide 7, seemed likely to emerge

soon-"soon" in drug-development parlance meaning another two years before

submission to regulatory agencies for approval.

In an attempt to reinvolve Sam in company policy, Celia had gone to him

to discuss the latest U.K. news.

Because the British institute had been Sam's idea, and he had fought to

keep it funded, she assumed he would be pleased to have his faith

confirmed and hoped, too, it would help offset his deep depression.

Neither idea worked out. Sam's response was indifference. He also

rejected a suggestion that he fly to Britain to talk with Martin

Peat-Smith and judge the significance of what was happening.

"Thank you, no," he told Celia. "I'm sure you can find out what you need

by other means."

But even Sam's attitude did not change the fact that Harlow could now

loom large in Felding-Roth's future.

And something else.

Vincent Lord's long years of research into what was known chemically as

"the quenching of free radicals," the elimination of dangerous side

effects from otherwise good drugs, had at last shown positive results.

These were so auspicious-with all the indications of a major scientific

breakthrough, something Lord had always coveted-that a massive research

effort in Felding-Roth's U.S. laboratories was now being directed toward

final development.

While the British Peptide 7 was clearly the drug that would be

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_ ready first, Vincent Lord's creation, provisionally named Hexin W, was

likely to be only a year or two behind.

The second development had another effect. It made Lord's future more

secure at Felding-Roth. Celia had at first considered-in view of Lord's

strong advocacy of Montayne, and for other general reasons-replacing him

when an opportunity arose. Yet now he seemed too valuable to lose.

Thus, surprisingly, and despite the overhanging shadow of Montayne, the

company climate suddenly looked brighter.

6

At Harlow, Yvonne Evans and Martin Peat-Smith were spending an increasing

amount of time together.

Although Yvonne still kept a small apartment she had rented when beginning

work at the Felding-Roth institute, she was seldom there. Every weekend and

most weeknights she was at Martin's house, where she happily took over the

domestic side of Martin's life as well as attending to his-and her

own-sexual needs.

Yvonne had reorganized the kitchen, which was now orderly and gleaming.

From it she produced appetizing meals, exercising a talent as a versatile

cook which seemed to come to her naturally and which she enjoyed. Each

morning before they left, separately, for work, she made the bed she and

Martin shared, seeing to it that the linen was clean and changed more

frequently than in the past. She left notes with instructions for the

"daily," the cleaning woman, with the result that the remainder of the

house took on the immaculate appearance that comes from an eye for detail,

which Yvonne had, and proper supervision.

Some changes in the pet m6nage were also made by Yvonne.

She added a Siamese cat of her own. Then, one Saturday when Martin was

working but Yvonne wasn't, she brought a saw and other tools with which she

constructed a hinged "cat flap" in a rear downstairs door. It meant that

the cats were free to come and go at

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any time, the effect being healthier for the pets and for the household.

Also, when Yvonne stayed overnight she exercised the dogs in the early

morning, supplementing the regular exercise Martin gave them every

evening.

Martin loved it all.

Something else he loved was Yvonne's cheerful, usually inconsequential

chatter. She talked about a multitude of subjects, few of great

importance--current films, the private lives of stars, pop musicians and

their offstage antics; which London stores were having sales, and the

latest buys at Marks and Spencer; the telly; gossip of the institute--who

had become engaged, was pregnant, or about to be divorced; sexual

excesses of the clergy, as reported in the vigilant British press; even

a political scandal or two . . . Yvonne absorbed such matters, garnered

from listening and selective reading, like a sponge.

Strangely, not only did Martin not object to hearing all this, at times

he found it refreshing and a change and, at other times, like background

music.

The point was, he decided when he thought about it, he was surrounded so

much of the time by intellectuals whose conversation was on a serious

scientific plane, with trivia excluded, that he grew weary of it. When

he listened to Yvonne he could coast contentedly, leaving his brain in

neutral.

One of Yvonne's interests-a near-passion-was the Prince of Wales. His

much-publicized romances fascinated, though sometimes worried her. She

discussed them endlessly. A name linked with Charles's at the time was

Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. Yvonne refused to take the gossip

seriously. "A marriage would never work," she assured Martin. "Besides

being a Catholic, Marie-Astrid isn't right."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I just do."

Another touted candidate, Lady Amanda Knatchbull, found more favor. "She

could be okay," Yvonne conceded. "But if only Charles will be patient,

I'm sure someone else will come along who's more right for him, even

perfect."

"He's probably worrying himself, so why not write and tell him?" Martin

suggested.

As if she hadn't heard, Yvonne declared thoughtfully and with a touch of

poetry, "What he needs is an English rose."

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One night after Yvonne and Martin had made love, he teased her, "Were you

pretending I was the Prince of Wales?"

She answered mischievously, "How did you know?"

Despite her penchant for chitchat, Yvonne was no birdbrain, Martin

discovered. She showed interest in other things, including the theory

behind the mental aging project, which Martin patiently explained and which

she seemed to understand. She was curious about his devotion to the

writings of John Locke, and several times he found her with an open copy of

Locke's Essay, her forehead creased in concentration.

"It isn't easy to understand," Yvonne admitted.

"No, not for anyone," he said. "You have to work at it."