Ronald was adamantly opposed to any dilution of the stock, fearing a hostile takeover in the future. It was his belief that expansion should be tied directly to current revenues and current profits. Once again, Victor’s vote was to be the swing vote, just as it had been back in 1983 over the question of going public. Victor had voted against Ronald then, siding with Clark. Despite the incontrovertible success of going public, Ronald still felt Victor had sold out his academic integrity.
Victor put Ronald’s message in the center of his blotter. “What else?” he asked.
Before Colleen could respond, the door opened and VJ stuck his head in, asking if anybody had seen Philip.
“I saw him earlier at the cafeteria,” Colleen said.
“If anybody sees him,” VJ said, “tell him that I’m here.”
“Certainly,” Colleen said.
“I’ll be around,” VJ said.
Victor waved absently, still wondering what he would say to Ronald. Victor was certain they needed capital now, not next year.
VJ closed the door behind him.
“No school?” Colleen questioned.
“Spring vacation,” Victor said.
“Such an exceptional child,” Colleen said. “So undemanding. If my son were here, he’d be underfoot the entire time.”
“My wife thinks differently,” Victor said. “She thinks VJ has some kind of problem.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Colleen said. “VJ is so polite, so grown up.”
“Maybe you should talk to Marsha,” Victor said. Then he stuck his hand out, anxious to move on. “What’s the next message?”
“Sorry,” Colleen said. “This is the phone number for Jonathan Marronetti, Gephardt’s attorney.”
“Lovely!” Victor said. George Gephardt was the director of personnel for Fertility, Inc., and had been supervisor of purchasing for Chimera until three years ago. Currently, he was on a leave of absence, pending an investigation regarding the disappearance of over one hundred thousand dollars from Fertility, Inc. Embarrassingly enough, it had been the IRS that had first discovered that Gephardt was banking the paychecks of a deceased employee. As soon as he had heard, Victor ordered an audit of the man’s purchasing bills for Chimera from 1980 to 1986. Sighing, Victor put the attorney’s number behind Ronald’s.
“What next?” Victor asked.
Colleen shuffled through the remaining messages.
“That’s about all the important ones. The rest of these I can handle.”
“That’s it?” Victor questioned with obvious disbelief.
Colleen stood up and stretched. “That’s all the messages, but Sharon Carver is waiting to see you.”
“Can’t you handle her?” Victor asked.
“She’s demanded to see you,” Colleen said. “Here’s her file.”
Victor didn’t need the file, but he took it and placed it on his desk. He knew all about Sharon Carver. She’d been an animal handler in Developmental Biology before she’d been “terminated because of dereliction of duty.” “Let her wait,” Victor said, standing up. “I’ll see her after I see Ronald.”
Using the rear entrance to his office, Victor started off for his partner’s office. Maybe Ronald would be reasonable face to face.
Rounding a corner, Victor spotted a familiar figure backing out of a doorway and pulling a cart. It was Philip Cartwright, one of the retarded persons whom Chimera had hired to work to the extent of their abilities; they were all valuable employees. Philip did custodial and messenger work, and had been popular from his first day on. In addition, he’d taken a particular liking to VJ over the years and had spent lots of time with him, particularly before VJ started school. They made an improbable pair. Philip was a big, powerfully built man with scant hair, closely set eyes, and a broad neck that sloped from just behind his ears to the tip of his shoulders. His long arms ended in spadelike hands, with all the fingers the same length.
As soon as Philip saw Dr. Frank, there was a wide smile of recognition, displaying a mouthful of square teeth. The man could have been frightening, but he had such a pleasant personality, his demeanor overcame his appearance.
“Good morning, Mr. Frank,” Philip said. He had a surprisingly childlike voice despite his size.
“Good morning, Philip,” Victor said. “VJ is here someplace and was looking for you. He’ll be here all week.”
“That makes me happy,” Philip said with sincerity. “I’ll find him right away. Thank you.”
Victor watched him hurry off with his cart, wishing all the Chimera employees were as dependable as Philip.
Reaching Ronald’s office, which was a mirror image of his, Victor said hello to Ronald’s private secretary and asked if her boss was available. She kept Victor waiting for a few minutes before ushering him in.
“Does Brutus come to praise Caesar?” Ronald asked, looking up at Victor from under bushy brows. He was a heavyset man with a thick mat of unkempt hair.
“I thought we could discuss the stock offering,” Victor suggested. From Ronald’s manner and tone, it was clear he was in no mood for conversation.
“What’s there to talk about?” Ronald said with thinly disguised resentment. “I’ve heard you’re for a dilution of stock.”
“I’m for raising more capital,” Victor said.
“It’s the same thing,” Ronald said.
“Are you interested in my reasons?” Victor asked.
“I think your reasons are very clear,” Ronald said. “You and Clark have been plotting against me since we went public!”
“Oh, really?” Victor questioned, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Such ridiculous paranoia began to give him the idea the man was cracking under the strain of his administrative duties. He certainly had as much if not more than Victor and neither one of them was trained for such work.
“Don’t ‘oh, really’ me!” Ronald said, heaving his bulk to his feet. He leaned forward on his desk. “I’m warning you, Frank. I’ll get even with you.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Victor said with disbelief. “What are you going to do to me, let the air out of my tires? Ronald, it’s me, Victor. Remember?” Victor waved his hand in front of Ronald’s face.
“I can make your life just as miserable as you’re making mine,” Ronald snapped. “If you continue to press me to sell more stock, I promise I’ll get even with you.”
“Please!” Victor said, backing up. “Ronald, when you wake up, call me. I’m not going to stand here and be threatened.”
Victor turned and left the office. He could hear Ronald start to say something else, but Victor didn’t stop to hear it. He was disgusted. For a moment he considered throwing in the towel, cashing in his stock, and going back to academia. But by the time he got back to his desk, he felt differently. He wasn’t about to let Ronald’s personality problems deny him access to the excitement of the biotechnology industry. After all, there were limitations in academia as well; they were just of a different sort.
Staring up at Victor from his desk blotter was the telephone number for Jonathan Marronetti, Gephardt’s attorney. Resigned, Victor dialed the number and got the lawyer on the phone. The man had a distinctive New York accent that grated on Victor’s nerves.
“Got good news for you people,” Jonathan said.
“We can use some,” Victor said.
“My client, Mr. Gephardt, is willing to return all the funds that mysteriously ended up in his checking account, plus interest. This is not to imply guilt; he just wants the matter to be closed.”
“I will discuss the offer with our attorneys,” Victor said.