Come Home: a novel Part 41

"My name is Jill Farrow, and my ex-husband was William Skyler, who was Nina D'Orive's lover. That's how I got the data, from my ex's laptop. You might not know who I am, but your bosses do. I've been to Pharmcen twice this week, I talked to the security guard both times. Barry Whatever, with the soul patch." Jill met Elliott's eye. "Your bosses aren't leveling with you. They're playing you. They know who I am. You're the only one who doesn't, and oddly, I'm the only one on your side."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Elliott lowered himself onto the bench, his bony fingers linked in his lap.

"You know, somebody's going to have to take the fall for what just happened. Poor Nina pa.s.sed on some very valuable information, and you were her boss. You even promoted her to VP." Jill rested her bandaged hand on the back of the bench. "I know it's not fair to blame you. You oversee fifty employees in Pharmacovigilance, and you can't be accountable for everyone."

"How do you know all this?"

"They will ruin you, Elliott. Not in the foreseeable future, while they still need you. But in the end, you'll get fired, and you'll have a h.e.l.luva time getting a job anywhere else, given the scandal. I know that part, I lived that part."

"What do you want?"

Jill could see he was choosing his words carefully. "First, let me tell you how I figured out what was really going on. My ex's scheme started about three years ago, with Deferral. How'd that sell, by the way, before it was recalled?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, I'll tell you. It sold well. I saw online, it was used by two million allergy sufferers in the U.S. alone. My ex also sold information about Riparin, a diuretic that interacts with enzymes in the digestive track. How'd that sell, about the same?" Jill didn't wait for confirmation that she wouldn't get. "Both Deferral and Riparin had about the same number of complaints, and they were recalled."

"How do you know that?" Elliott raked his thinning hair. "The number of complaints per drug isn't public information."

"I know. My ex got the raw data from Nina. I gave you only some of it, like an appetizer."

"That can't be true." Elliott shook his head, and filaments of his fair hair caught the sun.

"It is. You may have noticed that none of the raw data I gave you is in the federal indictment. The government doesn't know it yet. That's why I said I'm on your side." Jill s.h.i.+fted toward him. "Now, as I was saying, the next drug up is Memoril, but now, there's a twist."

"What's the twist?"

"Correct my facts, because all I had to go on was the Internet. Memoril is a new Alzheimer's drug, and about five million people in the U.S. have Alzheimer's. Other major diseases like stroke, breast cancer, prostate cancer, even AIDS, they're all on the decrease. But not Alzheimer's. It's up 66 percent."

"Yes, I know all that. Alzheimer's is huge."

Jill winced at his callousness, but wasn't surprised. "Memoril was approved a year ago, and it has great potential, given that there are so few drugs like it on the market. I even knew a woman at my old group, Mary Fitzmartin. She was on Memoril, with good results."

"What's your point?"

"I studied the data that Nina was supplying my ex, and I found the same proportion of complaints for Memoril as for Deferral and Riparin. In fact, the men who were indicted were waiting for Memoril to get recalled or withdrawn, but it wasn't, and I know why." Jill met his eye, calmly. "Pharmcen isn't reporting those complaints to the FDA. They're deep-sixing them. They're covering them up to keep a very lucrative Alzheimer's drug on the market."

Elliott's eyelids fluttered. "That's not true."

"Oh, please. I'm on your side, Elliott. The government believes that those Wall Street types killed my ex because he was trying to expand to other hedge funds and middlemen, but I thought there was something else behind it, and there was." Jill tried to collect her thoughts. "The complaints on Memoril were coming in, but they were being covered up. By you, at your bosses' behest. n.o.body at your level does that alone. They told you to do it, and they used you. They played you. I think my ex-husband figured it out, because he had the raw data from Nina, and I think he tried to blackmail you. And you killed him."

Elliott recoiled.

"Am I right or am I wrong?"

"You must be crazy." Suddenly Elliott reached over and yanked on Jill's sweater, almost tearing the neckline, but she made herself stay calm, raising her hands.

"Frisk away. I'm not wearing a wire. Go ahead, you're a doctor. Kind of."

"You don't know what you're doing." Elliott patted down her sides, then her chest, his eyebrow twitchy. His gaze fell on her bandaged hand. "Let me see that hand."

"Fine, allow me." Jill unpeeled the gauze, showed him her purplish cut, then covered it back up. "Satisfied?"

"Give me your purse." Elliott grabbed her purse, rummaged inside, and tossed it aside, then rose to go. "This is ridiculous, I'm leaving."

"I wouldn't do that yet. You didn't hear how I'm on your side, and you're going to wish you did. Because, sooner than you think, you're going to have no job and no money and no career. Or you're going to end up dead. Either way, you're going to wish you'd stayed."

Elliott turned, then sat back down, saying nothing.

"Your bosses aren't very nice people, Elliott. The government thinks that the Wall Street guys hired two killers to kill Nina and her husband, but I think your bosses did it."

"No, that's wrong." Elliott blanched, shaken. "Nina's husband killed her. He was abusive. We all know that."

"Did you really buy that? It looks like you did. No, your bosses had Nina and her husband killed, I a.s.sume so there wouldn't be any loose ends. Then I became a loose end, and they sent the killers after me. But I guess they kept all this from you, for some reason." Jill eyed him, wondering. "Oh, did you like Nina? That's too bad." Jill let it go. "Well, to get to the point, your bosses sent you out here, so they know what I have and they can guess what I want. Money. I just quit my job, and it'll come in handy."

"How does that benefit me?"

"You know there's a fortune in that building, Elliott. Enough for us both, and we're not as greedy as they are. Tell them I want to be paid, but let's share it. We can set the figure together. I say five hundred grand? Six?" Jill paused to let it sink in. "Let them pay us, and we'll split the money. You collect it from them, and deliver half to me. Three for you, three for me. No one has to know but you and me. I want to be paid, and I'll keep quiet about your lousy drug."

"Memoril's a great drug," Elliott said, suddenly animated. His light eyebrows flew upward, and his cheeks mottled, with new emotion.

"Not if there's that many complaints about it."

"You don't know the first thing about Memoril. All you did is read our website." Elliott snorted. "You have no idea how much R&D, clinical trials, time, money, and superb chemistry went into that drug. It was nine years in the making."

"All for naught. Memoril's a terrible drug, Elliott. Admit it, it doesn't work."

"Yes, it does. You said so yourself, it helped someone you knew."

"Until it kills her. Memoril doesn't work if you have to lie to keep it on sale."

"I don't have to lie." Elliott flushed, angering. "The regs don't require me to report a complaint to the FDA unless it's serious, life-threatening, or unexpected. They're open to interpretation, and I interpret them. That's my job."

"Oh, please. You don't interpret anything. You find the wiggle room in the terms to prop up your bad medicine. You fudge the data. You cheat." Jill could see he loved his drug and he was protecting it, like a mother did a child. Or even like Megan, who didn't like it when people said Beef was fat. Suddenly, Jill knew how to get to him. "It's a bad drug and a bad plan. Pharmacists can report adverse effects directly to the FDA. So can any consumer, online. It's only a matter of time before the world finds out that Memoril is poison."

"No, you're wrong," Elliott shot back. "The numbers will be far lower if we don't report, and it's the total numbers that trigger their attention."

"They're the FDA, not the IRS." Jill forced a c.o.c.ky smile. "They go by the severity of the adverse event, too. Deferral and Riparin were only Cla.s.s III recalls, but Memoril works on brain chemistry, so it's probably causing strokes, even fatalities."

"Who can say that any given death is linked to Memoril, especially in a geriatric patient? They get so decrepit, they would've died anyway, from a myriad of causes." A cruel smile curled Elliott's upper lip, and Jill felt her stomach turn over.

"You can't hide those complaints forever."

"I can, and I have." Elliott lifted his chin, defiantly. "Memoril helps more people than it kills. It's a true scientific advance."

Jill realized he'd just shown his hand, but she couldn't stop now. "You're making a monumental mistake. If you don't get me that money, I'll go to the media and I'll sell them the story. I'll tell them all about Memoril and what you're doing."

"Don't you dare." Elliott jumped to his feet, leaning over her, his features contorted with anger. "You and your ex are two of a kind. You think you know everything. Well, did he know everything? Where is he now?"

"You don't scare me, and you can't stop me." Jill could see he was about to explode, so she provoked him. "I'll get my money one way or the other. I'll kill your drug."

"I'll kill you if you do, and don't think I'm not capable of it!" Elliott's eyes flashed with a zealot's madness. "I killed your ex-husband! He was easy to fool. I let him think we were going to pay him, told him I was coming over to negotiate the deal. I told him he drove such a hard bargain, I needed a drink. It only takes a second to dump a test tube in a drink. You think I don't know how to mix drugs in solution? Add a masking agent, for flavor? I'm a chemist!"

Jill didn't know what to say, and suddenly she didn't have to say more, or get Elliott to say any more.

"FBI, hands up!" shouted a squad of FBI agents in dark windbreakers, racing from the treeline, lead by Special Agent Harrison. "FBI, get your hands up!"

"Don't shoot!" Elliott froze, raising his hands, his eyes popping as Special Agent Harrison and the other FBI agents grabbed him, patted him down, and handcuffed him.

Jill hustled away, as she'd been instructed, and the man and the woman sitting on the bench, both FBI agents, sprinted toward her and whisked her aside.

"Great job, Dr. Farrow!" The female FBI agent thrust out her hand. "I'll take the device now."

"Here you go." Jill handed her the BlackBerry, which had been specially outfitted as a recording device. "Thanks for protecting me."

"Jill!" Sam yelled, and she turned to see him running toward her, his sport jacket flying open. The sight lifted her heart, and she hurried to meet him.

"Sam, he admitted it, did you hear? Did they hear?" Jill met him, and Sam hugged her close.

"Way to go, babe. They've got the murder charge against him ready to go, and next they're going after Pharmcen." Sam smiled, looking into Jill's face with love. "I hope this gives the girls some real closure, too."

"So do I." Jill hugged him, finally at peace. "Now, it's over."

Chapter Seventy-six.

It was dark by the time they got to Shood Memorial, and Jill and Sam exchanged looks as they walked down the glistening corridor. Megan and Abby were behind them, chatting with Steven, and Victoria brought up the very rear, her head down, her thoughts to herself. It had been Jill's idea to visit Brian tonight, but neither she nor Sam knew which way it was going to go, between Brian and Victoria. Victoria had confided in Jill that she was nervous about seeing Brian again, but she'd wanted to go, so Jill felt some trepidation as she led everybody into the hospital room.

"h.e.l.lo, Special Agent Prendergast." Jill smiled, relieved to see that Brian was well enough to be sitting up in bed, reading a sports magazine. A bandage was wrapped around his head, making his brown hair puff in odd directions, and an older-looking pair of gla.s.ses perched on top of the gauze over his ears.

"h.e.l.lo, hey, nice of you to come, Dr. Farrow, everybody." Brian grinned gamely, setting down the magazine. His color was good, but his face showed a few cuts and some bruising. His blue eyes were weary, but they came to life when Victoria finally walked in. "Vick, it was nice of you to come, too."

"It wasn't my idea," Victoria shot back, standing stiffly at the foot of the bed, and Jill stepped over to his bedside, to smooth things over.

"Brian, meet my fiance, Sam Becker, his son, Steven Becker, and my daughter, Megan." Jill gestured at them, and Sam came over to shake his hand.

"Good to meet you, Brian."

"You, too." Brian nodded, acknowledging them all with a smile. "Hi, everybody. Good to meet you. Hey, Abby."

"Hey, Brian," Abby said, walking over. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thanks. Nothing's broken. I lucked out."

Jill felt her throat thicken as she thought about what she'd come to say. "Brian, I want to thank you for saving my life. I don't know how to say thank you for something that huge, other than just to say it, so thank you, so much, from the bottom of my heart." She managed to hold back her tears. She didn't want it to become about her. "I owe you, everything."

"No, you don't." Brian smiled, modestly. "It's my job."

"Maybe so, but it's quite a job, where you risk your life for other people." Jill flashed on the memorial at the police station in New York, with the plaques to the officers who fell on September 11. "I think you deserve at least a thank-you, a commendation, or whatever medal they give you. To me, you're a hero."

"To me, too," Sam said, nodding gravely.

"Yep," Abby added, and Megan nodded, staring at Brian, thrilled to be in the presence of a real FBI agent.

"Well, thank you, all." Brian turned to Jill, c.o.c.king his head. "By the way, Dr. Farrow, I heard you were quite the undercover agent today. Wearing a wire, the whole nine? Way to go, rook."

Jill blushed, still too moved to laugh, but next to her, Sam chuckled.

"I know, my wife is 007 now. You should've seen her. She kept him talking like a pro."

Jill nudged him, embarra.s.sed. "Hardly, Sam." She gestured at Brian. "This man is a pro. He tried to drive bad guys off a road, at a hundred miles an hour. I'll never forget that day. I've never driven that fast in my life."

"I have, except for the tree." Brian laughed, and so did everybody else, except Victoria. "Doc, you're a tough cookie when you want to be. I tried to warn you off, remember? When I threatened you with the restraining order?"

"Oh." Jill smiled. "That only made me madder."

Brian laughed, turning to Sam. "Dude, you've got your hands full. Good luck."

Sam burst into laughter. "You can say that again."

"What's the secret, with these women, bro?"

"It's easy. Do what they say, when they say it."

Everyone laughed, except for Victoria, again. An awkward silence fell, with everybody wondering about the elephant in the room. Brian looked over at Victoria after a moment, clearing his throat.

"Vick, I'm sorry for deceiving you, I really am." Brian winced, and it wasn't from the scratches on his face. "It's part of my job, too, but it's, hands-down, the worst part of my job."

"Then congratulations on a job well done." Victoria's tone was heavy with sarcasm. "Way to go, Operation Hedge Clippers."

"Go ahead and yell at me." Brian frowned, his regret plain. "I deserve it, and you know you want to."

"Yell at you? I wouldn't stop at yelling. If you weren't already in a hospital, I'd put you in one."

Jill cringed, looking down.

Brian said, "Victoria, I really am sorry."

"You made friends with me just to meet my father."

"But then we became friends, you and I. The time we spent, that was real. We're real friends."

Victoria scoffed. "No, we're not, not anymore."