Final Venture

I bit back my frustration. 'You're sure you can't remember what Frank asked you about, specifically'

'No, I cannot,' said Art angrily. And let me tell you something. BioOne is at a very delicate stage right now. The last thing it needs is for someone like you to go around asking difficult questions.' He licked his lips, and jabbed a finger at me. 'If you go suggesting to anyone, and I mean anyone, that there is something wrong with neuroxil-5, I'll have you out on your ass before you can say lah-di-fucking-dah.'

I stood up. 'No, Art. If there is something wrong with neuroxil-5, I'll find it. And you won't be able to stop me.'

Art stood up, glaring at me across his desk. 'Don't threaten me, boy. BioOne is the most important investment in the whole damn firm. You fuck with BioOne, you fuck with me. Your wife asked dumb questions and she lost her job. You ask dumb questions, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll wish you were still prancing around on ponies at the Queen's tea parties.'

I turned and left him standing at his desk red-faced and shaking.

I made my way back to my office deep in thought. Art had a point: asking questions about BioOne was dangerous. Both Frank and John had done it, and they were both dead. It was too much of a coincidence.

Gil passed me in the corridor. His weather-beaten face was even more worn than usual. I wondered whether his kidney problem was causing him pain. He nodded to me curtly, his mind preoccupied, presumably with John's death and the press.

On impulse, I stopped him. 'Gil?'

'Hm.' He focused on me, his eyes dull through his thick lenses.

'Do you have a moment?'

'What is it?'

I looked quickly around me. There was no one about.

'Are you confident in BioOne?'

Gil looked surprised. 'Why do you ask?'

'It was just something John was worried about before he died.'

'Yes, the police mentioned you'd told them that.'

'Are you sure everything really is as solid as it seems?'

'Yes, I guess I am,' Gil said. 'That's not to say there won't be hitches, there always are. But BioOne is a big winner, it's written all over it.'

'Don't you sometimes worry that there's nothing there?'

'What do you mean?'

'The company has never made a profit. It's only real asset is neuroxil-5. What if that turned out to be worthless?'

'But it's not worthless,' Gil said. 'It's medicine's best hope for treating a chronic disease that affects millions of sufferers.'

'But what if there were something wrong with neuroxil-5?'

'Such as?'

'Oh, I don't know. The drug didn't work or something. BioOne would be worth nothing, wouldn't it?'

Gil smiled tiredly. 'You're right to be cautious, especially with biotech. It's one of the cardinal sins of venture capital to count profits before they've been made. And there are dozens of biotech companies whose drugs have been shown to be no better than a pill made of sugar. But that's not the case with BioOne. I have a good feeling about this one.'

'I hope you're right.'

'So do I,' said Gil, 'or else we really will be in trouble.'

He headed off back to his office and his problems, and I to mine. But I wasn't convinced. If only I knew what Lisa had discovered about BioOne.

I pulled out my address book, and dialled her mother's number.

'Hello?'

'Ann? It's Simon.'

'Simon! I've told you before. Lisa doesn't want to talk to you. She doesn't want you to know where she is.' Lisa's mother didn't sound hostile, more frustrated, as much with Lisa as with me.

'OK, I understand that. Can you just give her a message for me?'

I heard Ann take a deep breath. 'OK. Maybe. What is it?' she asked suspiciously.

'Can you tell her I want to ask her some questions about BioOne. It's important.'

There was a pause. 'All right,' she said reluctantly. 'I'll tell her. But she's very upset. I don't think she will call you back.'

'If you could just try, I'd appreciate it.'

'OK. I'll give Lisa your message. Goodbye, Simon.'

I put down the phone. I was confident Ann would pass my message on. I wasn't at all confident Lisa would respond to it. I couldn't just sit back and wait for a reply from her that might never come. But what else could I do? How could I uncover the problem with neuroxil-5 myself?

I stared into space for a few minutes, and then an answer came to me.

Ask someone who was taking it.

I took the train out to Brookline. I found Aunt Zoe's house and rang the bell. She answered in a moment with a warm smile.

'How nice to see you,' she said. 'Come in, come in.' She called into the recesses of the house. 'Carl! We have a visitor!'

Carl bustled into the hallway. 'Simon!' he said. 'How's Lisa?'

'Fine,' I lied, admiring the neat way they had managed to deal with Aunt Zoe's failure to recognize me.

They ushered me into the living room. The last time I had seen it, it was crowded with Frank's mourners. It still bore some signs of that day. The mirror on the wall was covered with black cloth, and a photograph of Frank as a handsome young man had been pushed to the front of a crowd on top of the piano. In fact, looking at Zoe now, I could see a resemblance to her brother: she was tall, long limbed, with the same kindly hazel eyes. There was something warm and approachable about her. I saw why she was Lisa's favourite aunt.

Zoe' made us all coffee, and I indulged in small talk with the two of them. I said Lisa was in California doing some research work, and left it at that. I had been lucky to catch Carl, apparently he was just leaving for the College. I was glad of his presence, although Zoe seemed to have no problems following the conversation at all. Apart from her initial well-disguised confusion over who I was, there was no sign that her brain was steadily decaying.

After a few minutes I steered the conversation round to the purpose of my visit.

'You remember my firm backed BioOne, the company that makes neuroxil-5?' I began.

'Oh, yes,' said Carl.

'I wondered if you had noticed any problems since Zoe started taking it?'

'I don't think so, do you dear?' said Carl, turning to Zoe.

'No,' she said. 'I have to go to the hospital pretty frequently so they can check up on me. But they haven't come across anything out of the ordinary, at least nothing they've told me about. Ever since Lisa called, I've been keeping a good look out for any problems, but I feel fine. And the good news is that I don't seem to be getting any worse up here.' She tapped her temple.

'That is good news,' I said, sipping my coffee. 'You said Lisa called you?'

'Yes,' said Carl. 'Last week. I assumed that was why you were here.'

'Er, no.' I said. 'As I mentioned, she's in California at the moment. She didn't tell me she'd spoken to you.' I smiled nervously. 'Breakdown in communication.'

Carl looked at me oddly for a moment. 'She said she wasn't sure, but she was worried that neuroxil-5 could have some dangerous side-effects. When I pressed her on it, she said she couldn't be specific. It sounded more like a hunch. Zoe and I talked it over with our doctor, and we decided that we'd carry on with the drug. I mean it's working in Zoe's case, and the doctor assured us that the FDA monitors these trials very thoroughly, so if there was a dangerous side-effect, they'd let him know.'

'Do you know something, Simon?' Zoe' asked, a brief look of worry crossing her face.

I paused, pondering how to answer the question. 'Not really. It's just a suspicion from things I've seen at work. But I don't have any hard evidence, no.'

'Do you know what this side-effect might be?' Zoe asked.

I shook my head. 'No. Sorry. That was why I wondered whether you had noticed anything.'

Zoe turned to her husband. 'I don't know, Carl. Maybe I should stop taking the stuff.'

Carl took his wife's hands. 'When Frank introduced you to this drug, it gave us some hope that we might be able to beat this disease. I don't want to give up on that hope. Sure, it might not work. It might even be dangerous. But it's the best shot we've got.'