TWO
Leila lifted her head from the microscope when she heard an urgent knock at the door to her lab.
“Dr. Cruickshank? Are you still there?”
She smoothed her lab coat down and caught her reflection in the glass cabinet over the work bench she was hunched over. Her pony tail was still holding back her long, brown hair, but several strands had struggled free and now curled around her face. It looked almost as if a hair stylist had taken great pains to arrange her hair like that. Of course, that wasn’t possible. She hadn’t been to a hair salon in months. How could she waste precious time worrying about her appearance when she had such important work to do?
Over the last few months, she’d made huge progress. The clinical trials were promising, and it appeared that there was only a little more fine tuning necessary until the drug would do exactly what she wanted it to: stop Alzheimer’s Disease, a disease both her parents were suffering from, in its tracks. The drug even appeared to show some promise of being able to reverse some of the effects of the disease, even though chances of eradicating all damage Alzheimer’s had already caused were slim.
For her parents, it was a race against time. There were times when they seemed perfectly well, yet at other times, their memory lapses were glaring, and she could sense them slipping away. If she didn’t finish her research soon, the damage to their brains’ neurons would become too severe for even her wonder drug to reverse it. The earlier the drug was administered, the higher the chances of some recovery of brain function. Even though she realized that her parents might never fully recover, she clung to the hope that at least some of their brain function could be restored to their former states.
At thirty-six, she should have children and a family of her own, but there had never been anything else but her work. After finishing medical school, she’d wanted to go into plastic surgery, lured by the high income the specialty offered. However, when first her father and then her mother had shown early signs of the disease, she’d quickly switched tracks.
Leila had suddenly realized that all her parents’ money didn’t mean anything when they were losing what they loved most: each other. After her fellowship, Inter Pharma had shown interest in her research and offered her a job. Now she headed her own lab, supervising three lab assistants and two young researchers.
She loved running her own lab; the order of her work appealed to her senses. Everything had its time and place. It was how she managed to deal with crisis: by keeping things in order and always knowing what came next, always having a plan. It gave her security, something she’d craved ever since her parents had fallen ill. And that need for security permeated throughout her work.
While her lab team would execute many different parts of her research, Leila was the only one who had access to the full set of data and the complete formula of the drug as it existed right now. Keeping her data secure was paramount to her.
It was one of the reasons she didn’t use the networked computer Inter Pharma provided her with, but used her own encrypted laptop, backing up her data to a memory stick that hung, disguised in a diamond studded pendant, on a necklace around her neck wherever she went.
There’d been earlier incidents where another researcher’s data had been stolen by an employee and later resurfaced at another pharmaceutical company, which then beat them to the discovery. A new drug meant vast amounts of money to Inter Pharma, but to Leila it meant getting her parents back and seeing recognition light up their eyes again before it was too late and they were gone forever.
“Dr. Cruickshank?”
Leila shot up from her chair and went to the door, unlocking it. She’d gotten used to locking the door whenever she was alone in the lab. As she opened it, she looked at the flushed face of the CEO’s personal assistant, Jane.
“Oh, good, you’re still here. I wasn’t sure,” she babbled.
Leila nodded, preoccupied. Her staff had already left for the night, but even though it was past eight o’clock, she wasn’t ready to leave. There was always more data to be analyzed.
“Jane, is there anything you need?” she asked, hoping all the ditsy secretary wanted was an extra packet of sweetener or a teabag because she’d once again forgotten to order supplies for the executive offices.
“Mr. Patten sent me. He asked if you could spare a minute to talk to him.”
“Now? I thought he would have gone home long ago.” It was rare that anybody but she and the security guy worked this late.
“I wish. But he had a late meeting, and it only just ended. Of course, he made me stay.” Jane blew out an annoyed breath. “So can you? I mean see him in his office?”
Leila nodded absentmindedly even though she hated the interruption.
“Oh, and would you have any sweetener left? I ran out.”
Well, that explained why Jane hadn’t used the phone to summon her to the office.
Leila turned quickly to snatch a handful of packets from the bowl on top of the fridge and pressed them into Jane’s outstretched hands. Making sure the door locked behind her, she walked down the long hallway, flanked by Patten’s assistant.
The key around her neck jingled against her pendant, making an eerie sound in the empty corridor.
“I’ve always admired your necklace,” Jane chatted. “Do you remember where you bought it?”
“It’s custom made,” Leila said, ignoring the sudden prickling on her nape. She quickly cast an eye over her shoulder, yet saw nothing but the gleaming linoleum floor and the sterile white walls.
“Custom made?”
She nodded back at Jane. “Yes, I had a jeweler make it for me.” To conceal her sixty-four gig memory stick and keep her research close to her heart, literally. But nobody knew that. Maybe it was paranoia or perhaps it was simply common sense, but she wanted to ensure that none of her data would ever be lost.
“It’s beautiful. Where’s his shop? I would love to have something similar.”
“He went out of business, I’m afraid,” Leila lied and tried for a regretful smile.
She wouldn’t reveal the jeweler’s name just in case he’d let it slip that the pendant was hollow inside and the perfect size for a memory stick. Nobody was supposed to know she carried her data with her. Already, not saving her data on the networked computer in her lab had raised a red flag and earned her a meeting with the CEO. However, once she’d made her case that she was worried about research being stolen, Patten had conceded to a compromise: each night when she was done with her research, she would back up the data on an external disk drive that she then placed in a safe. Only her own thumb print or that of Patten could open the specially designed piece, thus assuring that nobody unauthorized could access it.
It appeared that her boss was nearly as paranoid as she was. And why shouldn’t he be? Pharmaceutical research was a cutthroat business. The first company to develop a new drug had an enormous head start no other company could compete with. To be first was everything in this business.
Her laptop was armed with a special software that would initiate a sequence to destroy all data on the hard drive should anybody tamper with it. It was failsafe.
“ . . . so I went with the red one instead. What do you think?” Jane pointed to her fingernails, which were painted in a ghastly orange color. Clearly, the young woman was colorblind, even though colorblindness was a male phenomenon.
“Cute,” Leila managed to say, wondering what else Jane had been prattling on about while she’d had her head in the clouds again. It happened so often lately: she would space out thinking about one thing or another and not even notice that other people were around her or even talking to her.
At the next bend of the corridor, they turned left. Leila pressed the button at the elevator bank. Doors instantly parted, and she stepped inside, followed by Jane. Her colleague pressed the button to the executive floor, and the doors started closing. Just as they were halfway shut, something beeped and the doors opened again.
“What the hell?” Jane cursed and pressed the button again. “I can’t believe these stupid elevators. Half the week they’re out of order, supposedly getting fixed, and the other half of the week they’re on the blink again.”
Leila shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I normally take the stairs.”
“Well that’s easy when you’re on the third floor, but try the eighth, and you’ll be out of breath in no time.”
Leila couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Jane’s three inch heels.
Yeah, or break an ankle.
But she refrained from making a comment. It wasn’t her business that Jane was out of shape. She herself ran at least four times a week, trying to stay healthy and fit. As well as slim. She’d noticed how much weight her mother had gained when she’d broken a leg a few years ago and hadn’t been able to move much. Leila knew she had her mother’s physique—petite and solid, rather than tall and lean—and knew that if she let herself go, she would balloon one day. Hence, she ran and climbed the stairs whenever she got a chance.
When they arrived on the eighth floor, Jane turned toward the kitchen, instructing Leila in leaving, “Go right in to see him. He’s expecting you.”
Leila pulled her lab coat straight and brushed a hair off the white fabric. Clearing her throat, she lifted her hand and rapped her knuckles against the door.
“Come.” The order was instant and spoken with unmistakable authority.
She didn’t lose any time, opened the door and entered Patten’s office. The room was shrouded in semi-darkness. Patten, a man in his late fifties, graying at the temples and balding on top, sat at the wide desk, which was illuminated by a large halogen light. Yet the overhead fluorescent lights were off.
“Come in, come in, Dr. Cruickshank. Excuse the lack of lights, but they burned out just when my visitor was here earlier. Darn embarrassing, too. Better get maintenance on that right away.”
“Evening, Mr. Patten,” she answered simply, knowing he didn’t expect a reply to his rant about the lights. “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, yeah. That’s right.” He brushed a strand of gray hair back behind his ear, making her aware that just like her, he needed a haircut. He appeared somewhat disheveled.
Now that she looked at him more closely as she approached and took the visitor seat in front of this desk, she noticed that his face looked gray and tired. As if he’d been burning the candle at both ends, just like somebody else she knew: yours truly. Well, he was probably not the only workaholic at Inter Pharma. Nobody got to the top without sacrificing something for it.
“Sit down … Ah, you’re sitting … good, good …”
Leila crinkled her forehead in concern. She’d never seen her boss this flustered. She hoped he wasn’t having a stroke, because despite having a medical degree, she was ill equipped for dealing with a medical emergency. The last time she’d seen a patient was during her residency at Mass General, and that seemed eons ago.
“Are you feeling all right?” she felt compelled to ask, her nurturing side rearing its head.
His eyes suddenly focused, and he appeared as clear as he’d always been. “Of course, why wouldn’t I? … Well, I wanted to speak to you because I’ve had a visit from a shareholder.”
Leila sat forward on her chair, uncrossing her legs. Why would Patten want to talk to her about a shareholder? She wasn’t involved in the operations or any of the finances of the company. Apart from being responsible for her own lab budget, everything else she did was pure research.
A shot of adrenaline suddenly coursed through her. She knew that the share price had recently dipped. Could this mean that the shareholders were unhappy and wanted to cut programs? Possibly eliminate her research?
“My budget is already tight as is.” The words were out before she could think any further. Darn! The way she acted, she would have never made it in the diplomatic corps. And if she continued with blurted-out statements, her career as a researcher with her own lab could soon land on a slippery slope too.
Patten gave her a confused look. “What?”
“I’m sorry, go on; you were saying a shareholder visited you.”
“Yes. It appears Mr. Zoltan has purchased a large amount of our shares when the market dipped. He now owns 36% of our stock, and while that doesn’t give him absolute control over the company, it makes him the largest individual shareholder—”
Leila lifted her hand from her lap. “Uh, Mr. Patten, as you know, I’m not involved in that side of the company. My research—”
“I’m getting to it, Dr. Cruickshank.”
She nodded quickly, not wanting to upset him any further. Something clearly had rattled him today, and she wasn’t interested in getting hit in the crossfire. It was better to keep her mouth shut and let him talk. Maybe he simply needed to vent to somebody, and apart from Jane and the security guard in the lobby, she was the only one left in the building.
Leila sighed inwardly. Great! Now her boss was offloading some useless stuff on her when she could utilize the time much better and finish analyzing the data that she hadn’t gotten to yet.
“As I said, Mr. Zoltan now owns a vast amount of this company and that gives him certain powers. You probably understand that it would be unwise to anger such a man and deny him what he wishes.” Mr. Patten wiped a bead of sweat off his brow before he continued, “He could force a vote and practically reshuffle the board, boot me out … uh, as you see, I really don’t have much choice in the matter.”
His eyes glanced at her nervously. In turn, the same nervousness spread to her, making her skin tingle with unease and her palms turn damp. On edge, she shifted in her seat but refrained from saying anything, realizing that he wasn’t done talking.
“He is merely making sure his investment is safe, you see. It’s not any different from a new owner inspecting his factory and watching over the production process. Right, that’s how we have to look at this.”
Watching over the production process? Was he saying what she thought he was saying? He couldn’t possibly allow … no, that would never happen.
“Mr. Patten, I … I,” she stammered, her mind in too much uproar to be able to form a coherent sentence.
“Mr. Zoltan will be returning on Monday to sit in with you.”
“Sit in?”
Patten nodded, avoiding her gaze, and instead stared at the darkness beyond his window. “He’s requested to learn about your research. My understanding is that he has a medical degree as well and wants to assess the viability of the product you’re working on.”
Leila jumped up. “You can’t allow that. My research … it’s secret. No outsider can—”
“Mr. Zoltan isn’t an outsider. He practically owns this company.”
Disbelief welled up in her, making her knees wobble. “But you said he only owns 36% of the shares, that doesn’t mean he owns us.”
“In the corporate world that gives him sufficient power over us to force practically anything he wants. We don’t even know what other resources he has at his disposal. For all we know, he can buy another fifteen percent, giving him full control.”
Leila leaned over the desk. “Please, Mr. Patten, you have to stop this. I can’t have a stranger looking over my shoulder. This is sensitive work. If somebody gets hold of my formula, they can steal it. It’s not safe to have somebody in the lab who might—”
“I understand your feelings, Dr. Cruickshank, but I have no choice. My hands are tied. Your research belongs to this company. It’s not your property. If I tell you that you have to allow someone access to it, then you’ll do as I say,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Do we understand each other?”
Leila pulled back, disappointment running in her veins. “I understand.” Her jaw tightened. “Is that all for tonight?”
He nodded, a tired look crossing his features. “Go home, Dr. Cruickshank. You’ll eventually see that things aren’t as bad as you might think.”
She turned without another word and walked back to her lab, holding back tears of frustration until the door latched behind her. Dropping into her chair, she covered her face with her hands and let the tears come.
This wasn’t fair.
She’d worked so long and hard for this, and now some rich shareholder with a medical degree would swoop in and nose around in her work. What if that wasn’t everything he wanted to do? What if he was intent on taking over the research and taking credit for it? She’d seen things like that happen before, where one researcher was booted out in the middle of the project and some newbie had taken over, claiming the credit for the ultimate result.
Or what would happen if he was incompetent and destroyed the progress she’d already made? If that happened, her parents would never get better.
She couldn’t allow this to happen. Nobody would ever find out enough about her research to be able to take over. This was her life’s work!
“You can’t take this away from me, Patten,” she mumbled, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
As she pushed back the chair, it scraped against the floor, the sound echoing in the empty lab. Her legs carried her to the wall safe. She pressed her thumb against the touchpad that activated the scanner. Then she heard a mechanism click. A beep accompanied by a green light told her that her authorization had been accepted.
Leila pulled the thick door open and peered into the dark interior. She had to do what needed to be done.