Marge said, “I’ve found the perfect superhero for Berger.”
“What’s that?”
“MIGHTY EGO.”
Decker smiled. “Yeah, egos are something else. They make us able to live with ourselves.”
Marge laughed. “Otherwise, we’d all curl up and die from embarrassment.”
Berger kept talking. “Finally, Azor did go back to UCLA and he did receive a Ph.D. Which again gave him the formal educational advantage-at least on paper. Being involved in biochemistry years before Azor, I felt I still had the practical edge. I would have liked to further my interest in chemistry, but when Azor went back, I had to pick up the slack around the hospital. Which meant I worked long, long hours-”
Dorman tapped Berger’s shoulder, whispered in his ear. Berger sighed and nodded. He went on.
“Admittedly so, Curedon was Azor’s brainchild-a highly modified cyclophillin binder which seemed to be a very potent T-cell inhibitor. In theory.”
Berger stopped, regarded his lawyer, Oliver, and the deputy DA. They were staring at him. He cleared his throat and continued.
“The point is Azor had developed a potentially wonderful drug in his lab, but he lacked the practical experience to refine it.”
“And that was where you came in,” Oliver stated.
Berger eyed him with suspicion. “Yes, as a matter of fact, that was where I came in. He developed a very raw analog, I refined it into something more workable, albeit not perfect. Later on, Dr. Decameron and Dr. Fulton were brought into our club. Reggie fine-tuned the drug. Then Elizabeth set up the protocol for Curedon’s animal experimentation.”
The doctor smacked his lips.
“Azor had the reputation…and Azor got the funding.”
“From the hospital?” Oliver asked.
“From the hospital, from NIH grants, from private donations…from everywhere.” Berger clasped his hands together. “I worked over eight years on Curedon. There was extra pay for me through the grants, but the money hardly made up for the excessive time I had put into the drug. And I should remind you that I was doing this while maintaining a full-time cardiosurgical practice.”
Marge said, “He needs to remind us, Pete.”
Decker said, “He’s pissed.”
“Doesn’t justify what he did.” She paused. “But it explains his motivation. MIGHTY EGO strikes again. Must be hard to be number two, standing in the shadows of the top dog.” She smiled. “I should know about that.”
Decker jerked his head. “Beg your pardon?”
“Oh, nothing…” Marge returned her attention to the interview. “Nothing at all.”
Berger said, “The finalized drug sold to Fisher/Tyne bore little resemblance to Azor Sparks’s original Curedon. The Fisher/Tyne Curedon was developed after years of trial and error by four scientists working as a unit. Yet, Azor got all the credit.”
Oliver said, “Doctor, Sparks was the…how do you say it…” He flipped through his notes. “The primary investigator…the acknowledged chief, Dr. Berger. Because it was his drug you were refining. You knew you weren’t going to get the glory at the outset, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but…I mean…another-”
“You certainly must have known you weren’t going to get the money,” Oliver pressed.
Berger glared at him.
Oliver said, “True or false?”
Dorman said, “Detective, can we keep it friendly here? My client has been completely cooperative-”
“Think so? Then next time you try to arrest him.”
“Detective-”
“Do you know how much money Fisher/Tyne paid Dr. Sparks for the rights to acquire Curedon?”
Anger flickered from Berger’s eyes. “Something in the seven-figure range.”
“Do you know if any other fees were owed to him?” Oliver asked.
Berger said, “I was aware of something in the contract that promised him additional monies should the sales of Curedon reach a critical limit.”
Marge said, “Why are some people so mealy-mouthed? ‘Additional monies should sales reach a critical limit.’”
“Just the way academics talk.”
“You think guys like him and Sparks ever drop their masks?”
“Azor rode motorcycles.”
Marge nodded. It was a good point.
Oliver asked, “Is that clause in the contract-the one that promises him money if Curedon has big sales-still in effect after Dr. Sparks’s death?”
“I don’t know.”
Saugust said, “Detective, why don’t we let Dr. Berger continue…do you think you might take out a little of the history, sir, and bring it back to contemporary times?”
“I’m just trying to give you the appropriate background,” Berger snapped.
“Of course,” Saugust said.
Berger said, “Well, to make a long story short, even with all the hoopla of Curedon’s arrival, there were still problems. But nothing the team couldn’t hammer out.
“Since I was so instrumental in Curedon’s development, Azor assigned me the role of liaison from our labs to Fisher/Tyne. Sparks also gave me a bonus when Curedon was bought. Nothing compared to what Azor had made. But it was a nice gesture.”
“Did he give all his colleagues bonuses?” Oliver asked.
“Yes, I believe he did.”
“Generous guy.”
“He certainly had enough to play with.”
The room was quiet.
“I took my job very seriously,” Berger said. “Worked very hard with Fisher/Tyne, smoothing out the areas that needed improvement.”
“Such as?” Oliver asked.
“Primarily improving the efficacy of the drug and the honing down of the unwarranted side effects. As I worked through these problems, studying the interactions at a cellular level, specifically Curedon’s propensity for human cyclophillin binding and its corrolate of immunosuppression, I discovered something very interesting. I proposed the following theory. That if one modified the drug’s butenyl ring structure, you could further increase the affinity for cyclophillin binding to a fourfold level. On a theoretical basis only, of course.”
“Of course,” Oliver said.
Dorman said, “Doctor, I think you’re going to have to simplify the technical aspects of your research.”
Berger was peeved. “On a strictly theoretical basis, I thought I discovered a better drug than Curedon.”
“Ah.” Oliver held up his finger. “That I understand.”
“Mind you, I had nothing tangible. Just an idea. And a very abstract one at that. But I was pleased with myself. Nevertheless, I didn’t think about pursuing it. I didn’t have the time or the resources. In passing, I happened to mention my idea to someone at Fisher/Tyne. He got very excited.”
“Shockley,” Oliver said.
“No, his boss, Joseph Grammer. Dr. Grammer was intrigued. We met a couple of times. Talked a bit about my idea. Developing any drug is a very expensive proposition. And like they say, a bird in the hand…”
No one spoke.
“Grammer took the matter up with Fisher/Tyne’s executive board. He came back and told me the bad news: I had almost been granted funding. But then the moment of truth. The board didn’t have enough funds to support my research, and support Curedon at the same time. Since Fisher/Tyne had already spent an enormous sum for Curedon, and since it was almost ready for human trials, the board wasn’t keen on going back to square one with my analog. The board voted to continue Curedon research. And I was left in the cold.”
“Made you bitter?” Oliver asked.
“No,” Berger insisted. “I was not bitter. Disappointed, yes. But not bitter. I continued on with Curedon, figuring the matter to be dropped.”
The room was quiet.