“What about Doug Englehart? His stake in MC124 is almost as big as McKinnon’s. And his resentment of McKinnon is strong enough to blackmail him.”
Abe nodded. “Possible. Or Marion. I still haven’t deciphered her motives.”
“Marion becomes more mysterious every day.” I was as baffled by her disappearance yesterday as by her recent call to Wes.
Abe and I looked at each other. I saw a new receptivity in his face, and a humility. “Let’s not drop this yet, Abe. Let’s go down to LifeScience tomorrow morning. Dugan will see us if we ask him to.”
“Some big meeting tomorrow, isn’t there?”
“McKinnon is supposed to be signing the Curaris deal,” I answered. “If, that is, he’s not in jail.”
33
Neil Dugan’s office was in an uproar. By coming at eight in the morning, I had thought we’d beat the crowd. I was wrong. The secretary, who was as orderly and methodical as a Dugan secretary ought to be, showed us in. “The Mercury News is on line one,” she told him.
“Bastards! Someone at the police leaked.” He punched the button and grabbed the receiver. “Who is this? All right, listen. You leave us alone for twenty-four hours, and I’ll give you the exclusive tomorrow morning. Got it? Good.”
The office was slightly bigger than McKinnon’s and had better views. The furnishings were all sharp edges, black metal, mahogany. The desk was so polished I could see cloud reflections moving across it. Few books were on the shelves; instead an elaborate media center was in the back corner of the room, faced by two sofas in tight leather. Dugan himself sat in a high-back leather chair. He was outfitted in double-breasted pinstripes. It was probably the suit he saved for really big days, when he planned to squash someone.
Dugan slammed the phone down. He gave us barely a glance, then started punching furiously at a keyboard on one of the many gadgets on his desk. We retreated to the sofas. For the first time I noticed the figure pressed into the corner of one sofa, looking small and frightened. It was Carl Steiner. I introduced Abe, and asked Carl if he’d been treated all right. He nodded.
“Quiet!” Dugan shouted at everyone.
The door burst open. I heard the secretary’s protesting voice outside. Frederick McKinnon strode in. He went straight to Dugan’s desk and slammed it with his palm. “You can’t do this, Neil!”
Dugan leaped to his feet. “What are you—”
The two men began a shouting match. McKinnon raised his voice another notch. His face was red. “I demand an explanation!”
“You demand nothing! You can’t—”
“You spilled to Curaris!”
“I spilled nothing. You’re no longer—”
“Curaris cancelled!”
“Bullshit they cancelled!”
“They called off the deal!”
Dugan stared at him with wide eyes, fists pressed to his desk. Echoes of the shouts still rang in the room. “What do you mean called it off?”
McKinnon turned down the volume. “Someone told them about MC124. Told them everything. They’re out. Gone.”
“It wasn’t me, Frederick. I had every intention of proceeding with the deal — with or without you.”
“Oh, stuff your absurd accusations. We’ve got real problems to handle, not delusions of murder.”
Dugan’s mouth went into a little pucker. “The police are reviewing the evidence. They will arrive later today.”
“This is outrageous, Neil. It’s a scheme to unseat me. The board will see right through it.” McKinnon’s voice had reached a new calmness and resolve. He realized it was going to be a battle to the end with Dugan.
Dugan finally acknowledged my presence with a demand. “Bill, I hope you brought the materials you promised.”
“They’re safe.” Abe and I had failed to turn up anything new in our search of Sheila’s apartment. I had my DAT recorder, but everything else was with Karen. “If the police request them, we’ll turn them over. But only to the police.”
McKinnon slowly turned to me. His look of betrayal made my stomach go queasy. I stood up. “We’re not sure who actually—” I started to say.
I was interrupted by the arrival of Doug Englehart. Abe stood up with me. Doug marched straight past us to the desk, across which McKinnon and Dugan faced each other. Carl was still sitting in his corner, staring at the door.
“What’s going on?” Doug said. “I heard Curaris—”
“Were you the one?” McKinnon demanded. “You told them about the problems with the antibody?”
“Why in hell would I do that?” Doug looked at McKinnon as if he were an imbecile.
“Come on, Doug.” McKinnon’s face had gone red again. “You’ve been trying to undermine me for months now. Are you in on this with Neil?”
“Get off it, Frederick. I found the antibody! It’s mine, and you virtually stole it!”
“What happened to your loyalty, Doug? Where would you be without me?”
“Where you are!” he cried, his mouth twisted in spite.
Dugan raised his hands. “Enough. Enough! I’m going to find out who’s responsible for this breach of confidentiality. In the meantime, the program will continue. Contrary to what either of you might think, we do not want to kill it. We simply want to know whether MC124 is what the two of you say it is. We have information now that it’s not. But under the right leadership, the program can be salvaged.”
Doug wrinkled his forehead. “What are you talking about, Neil?”
“Forget it, Doug,” McKinnon said. “They know about Sheila and the problems with MC124.”
“I don’t care what they know. One little knockout mouse does not destroy a brilliant antibody. Yes, we know now not to use it on people with food allergies. We know to be careful with dosage. So what? Add a caution. Aside from that, Phase I will prove it’s safe.”
“That’s not right,” McKinnon said. “We have to ascertain whether it stimulates immune hyperreactivity in other groups. There will be no Phase I, not until we’ve done more animal tests and we understand better how it works. We may have to rethink the molecule.”
“Bullshit!” The veins in Doug’s neck were bulging. He directed his words at Dugan. “It’s safe, and it will be proven safe in trials. How do I know this? Because I injected it. I put myself on the front line. What kind of reaction did I get?” He jabbed a finger at his neck. “This little rash. Nothing more.”
Dugan returned his attention to McKinnon. “So you were lying at the funeral, Frederick, when you told me you were planning to inject it — you and Doug had, in fact, already done so without authorization.”
“Sheila did, too,” I put in. “She mentions a rash in her diary.”
“Oh, stop with that,” Doug scoffed.
“Doug, enough!” McKinnon commanded. He looked at me, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and contrition. “It’s true that Sheila injected it. The whole team did, to test its safety. We hoped the mouse was an anomaly. I genuinely thought it was. I didn’t know that Doug had cooked the data. I didn’t know he’d use that fact to blackmail me—”
“That’s a ridiculous—”
“Don’t waste your breath, Doug,” Dugan cut in. “I’ve got documentation. Your new position is safe. You may, in fact, have more responsibilities than you thought.”
McKinnon glared at Dugan. But Abe fixed on McKinnon. “You allowed her to inject it,” Abe said in a measured, indicting voice.
“She volunteered,” Doug snapped.
“Reluctantly,” McKinnon admitted to Abe. “It was a hard decision for her. I could see that. She cared so much about the work. She was afraid not to test it. Afraid of what we would say. I can’t really forgive myself.”