Rudker entered the boardroom at the end of the hall and immediately sensed something was wrong. The group didn’t exactly go quiet, but they all glanced up at him as they wrapped up hushed conversations. John Harvick, the chairman, walked over and welcomed him with a handshake. Rudker felt a little better. He had to stop being so paranoid. Right. If he could do that, he wouldn’t need the Zyprexa.
He took a seat near the door on the opposite end of the table from where the chairman sat. The room was surprisingly small and had no windows. Meeting rooms were always like that. Architects rarely wasted prime window real estate on anything but offices. He hated the confined feel.
Harvick called the meeting to order. Rudker surveyed the people seated around the long mahogany table. Gerald Akron, Art Baldwin, Harvey Kohl, Jane Kranston, Richard Mullins, and Jim Estes. The “super seven” had control over a company that pulled in $14 billion a year in revenue. They had control over his future.
“Let’s get a quick update on the merger,” Harvick said, looking at Akron, JB’s chief executive officer.
“Firing on all cylinders,” Akron reported. The heavy bald man stood to deliver the rest of his brief: “The SEC wants us to sell two of our cardiovascular products, both with sales under $80 million. Genzar wants the pair. We’ve identified twelve middle management positions and five R amp;D staff that can be eliminated during the merger. And plans are in motion to move Prolabs’ R amp;D operation to Seattle. The only holdup is the final approval to build a new factory in Eugene.”
“Anything we can do to push that?” Harvick looked at Rudker.
Rudker was ready. “I’ve got an insider on the city council and all we need to do is wait for their vote. I have a friend on the environmental committee too. So I expect quick approval of our plan to recreate the wetlands. We should know in a week or two.”
Kranston and Kohl laughed. Rudker gave Kranston a look.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s the idea of recreating wetlands. It’s like promising to put up a new ghetto.”
Rudker relaxed a bit. “Eugene is a little odd that way. Nothing but weeds and ducks and a few scrubby trees out there in that acreage, but folks want to preserve it. The town also has ten percent unemployment. This factory will be built.”
“Excellent.” There was a long pause before Harvick continued. “Karl, I know you’re anxious to know our decision and we won’t keep you waiting any longer. We think it’s premature to offer you a position on the board, but we promise to reconsider the idea after you’ve had six months under your belt as chief operating officer.”
The air left his lungs as if being vacuumed. Rudker fought the panic. Fought the desire to shove his fist into Harvick’s face. He clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap several times before responding. “I’ve got twenty-five years in the business under my belt.”
“We know that, Karl. But never at a company that does more than a billion a year. Give it a little time.”
Stunned by their decision, he considered withdrawing his company from the merger. He had other offers. Yet he sat there, silent. Time was the problem. Prolabs was too close to financial collapse to start over with a new deal.
Finally Rudker nodded. “It won’t take long to show you what I can do.”
The voices in the room faded away and all he heard was the one in his head. Second man and no board seat. Nice lateral move. Rage and shame burned in his veins.
“Anything to update on Nexapra?” Now Kohl was asking questions.
Rudker pulled in a fresh supply of oxygen through his nose and spoke slowly. “We’ve started recruiting for Phase III clinical trials. The FDA has given us an okay for the protocol. We’re projecting a late-2011 approval date.” He sounded so calm.
“Excellent.” Kohl turned his next question to Akron, and Rudker’s mind flipped back to his humiliation. How could he have been so wrong about the board member decision? Did they know about Prolabs’ financial mess? Were they toying with him?
He could feel his power position slipping away. Now it all rested on Nexapra. He had to push it through approval and to the top of the charts. He couldn’t let anything get in his way.
Chapter 7
Sula tried calling Dr. Warner in the research building while her computer booted up. After three rings, a recording of Warner’s voice asked her to leave a message. The head of R amp;D did not mention that she would be out of the office. Sula called Steve Peterson and he reported that Dr. Warner had not come in yet.
“She usually comes in by now though, right?”
“By 7:30, usually.”
Sula checked her watch, even though she knew it was 7:55. “She didn’t call?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you called her cell phone?”
“I tried it once and left her a message.”
“I’m going to call her home number.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
Warner’s home voice-mail picked up after four rings. Her message was pleasant but brief: You’ve reached Diane Warner. Leave a message if you like. Distressed, Sula hung up. Where the hell was she? The doctor’s absence was starting to scare her. Sula hit redial, waited for the answering machine, then left her name and number and asked Warner to please call.
She dialed Steve Peterson’s extension and he picked up right away, as if he’d been waiting. “This is Sula. Dr. Warner doesn’t answer her phone at home.”
“This is very unusual. Have you talked with anyone in human resources yet?
“No, but I will.”
“Keep me posted.”
Peterson’s concern fueled her own sense of alarm. Worst-case scenarios played in her mind. Warner was lying dead on her kitchen floor, a gaping knife wound in her chest from a home invasion robbery. Or maybe she was at the morgue, victim of a hit and run accident. Or in the hospital in a coma, but with no identification, so the nurses didn’t know who to call. Did Warner have a family?
By the time Sula reached the HR department on the third floor, her pulse raced and anxiety clutched at her heart like a boney hand. She forced herself to slow down, to breathe from her stomach before she entered the suite. Marcy’s assistant, Serena, was in the outer office behind a curved half wall. The young woman greeted her with cheerful chatter.
Sula could not be distracted. “Sorry to be abrupt, Serena, but I must see Marcy right away.”
“She’s in a meeting with a lawyer.” Serena lowered her voice. “There’s something big going on, and I think it involves Sergio.”
“I have a greater concern. Diane Warner hasn’t shown up for work in two days, and she hasn’t notified Steve Peterson either time. Has she called either you or Marcy?
“No.” Serena’s eyes went wide. “Do you think she quit?”
“Maybe. I need you to look up her home address for me.”
“Are you going there?”
“I feel compelled to do something.”
Serena rolled her chair in front of her computer and made a few mouse clicks. “It’s 2862 Spring Boulevard. Are you going now? Should I tell Marcy when she gets out of her meeting?” The girl, fresh out of high school, sparked with the energy of a new drama.
“Yes and yes. Please call North McKenzie hospital while I’m gone.”
“What do I say?”
“Just ask if they have a patient named Diane Warner. If they do, find out whatever you can.”
“I’ll do it now.”
Sula thanked her and hurried from the building.
Driving up Spring Boulevard, Sula barely noticed the half-million dollar homes. A dark thought kept circling in her brain. What if Rudker had made Warner disappear? It was such a huge leap that she kept pushing the idea away. Her family’s trauma had left her with a tendency to catastrophize and blaming Rudker seemed like a classic example of that response.