Final Venture

32

I arrived at the coffee shop half an hour early, after an appalling night's sleep in a cheap hotel worrying about whether Lisa would come. The cafe walls were orange, adorned with posters of dolphins and whales gliding through shimmering seas. The food was vegetarian and organic, and the coffee came in the standard forty different combinations. The place was almost empty. There was a cool banker type with a fancy briefcase and a raincoat and hair slightly longer than the market average, two young women with metal-studded faces and short white-blonde hair, and an old man dressed in a beaten-up overcoat pretending to be a bum. The double latte he had ordered and the Scientific American he was reading gave him away as something else.

I asked for a simple cup of coffee and opened the Wall Street Journal. BioOne stock was down four to fifty-nine. Daniel had probably sold by now. In fact, knowing him, he had probably shorted the stock. I wondered if I could be implicated if he had dabbled in some insider trading. But that was the least of my worries.

I finished the coffee and ordered another. Ten to ten. Would she come? It wasn't even ten yet, and I was beginning to panic.

Ten o'clock came and went, then ten thirty, then eleven. I drank cups of coffee nervously, and my nerves jangled at the result. I tried to read and reread the same pages of the. Journal. She wasn't coming. Lisa could sometimes be a bit late, but not that late. She obviously wasn't coming. But I couldn't leave. I was rooted to my chair; I couldn't even dash out of the cafe to a news-stand to get something else to read. Then I'd never know whether I'd missed her or not.

Another coffee, decaf this time. And an organic Danish. My stomach needed something for the coffee to bite into.

She wasn't coming, but I couldn't accept that. Everything I had done over the last month, the risks I had taken, the trouble I had caused, had all been with the intention of winning Lisa back. But what if she didn't want to be won back? Lisa was a strong-minded woman. What if I couldn't convince her? Even if I showed her that I hadn't killed her father, that she was right all along about BioOne, what if even then she didn't come back to me?

I couldn't accept that. I stayed put, as though remaining in that cafe was the only thing left I could do.

It started to rain. Big San Franciscan drops of water, that swiftly turned the street into a landscape of streams and lakes. Umbrellas rose outside, the windows fugged up, cars swished water at dancing pedestrians.

The cafe was beginning to fill with the lunch crowd. The waiters looked as if they were about to throw me out, so I ordered a grilled vegetable sandwich.

At two o'clock, I gave up. I barged out into the waterlogged street, raindrops cooling my overheated skin, and splattering my hair on my scalp. I didn't know where I was walking.

'Simon!' I almost didn't hear it, didn't believe it. 'Simon!'

I turned. It was Lisa running towards me, her bag swinging in the rain.

She stopped in front of me, panting. I tried a smile. She returned it quickly, nervously. Water dripped off her nose and chin.

'Thank God you waited. It's been hours. I thought you'd go back to Boston.'

I shrugged. I allowed myself to smile again.

Lisa glanced up at the rain. 'Let's go inside.' She looked back towards the cafe.

'I can't go back in there,' I said. I noticed a scruffy diner further down the street. 'How about that?'

She grimaced. 'OK. Actually, I'm starving.'

She ordered a hamburger; I was relieved to get away with nothing.

We sat in silence as we waited for the food. There was so much to say. So much could yet go wrong. For now I was just pleased to be with her.

'I read those files,' she said at last.

And?'

And I'm almost certain that neuroxil-5 causes strokes in some patients if used over a six month period or longer.'

At first I felt a wave of relief. Then I remembered the thousand or so patients who were taking the drug in the Phase Three trial. Including Aunt Zoe.

'Almost sure?'

'The statistics are difficult. I didn't have time to go through the data thoroughly, but my gut feeling is that when the analysis is done it'll show the drug is dangerous.'

'Why hasn't BioOne discovered that yet?'

'Good question,' she said. 'It's not that easy in an Alzheimer's trial. The patients are old, and a number of them will die anyway. It looks like the incidence of strokes doesn't increase until at least six months after the patients start to take the drug, possibly longer.'

Aunt Zoe had been taking it for seven months.'

Lisa nodded. 'Poor Aunt Zoe. I'll really miss her. She was a great woman. I just wish they'd listened to me.'

'I don't think Carl will ever forgive himself.'

'Is there no hope?'

I shook my head. 'Not according to Carl.'

We were both quiet for a few moments, thinking of Zoe.

'Didn't Enever pick any of this up?' I said.

'Nowhere does he mention the problem directly. But from his actions, I'd say he began to notice that the stroke adverse events were getting out of line. He might have thought this was just a blip. But he persuaded some clinicians to reclassify their patients as suffering from mini strokes rather than Alzheimer's, then removed the strokes from the statistics.'

'So he knowingly fiddled the figures?'

'I wouldn't say that, exactly. He may have genuinely believed the patients were misdiagnosed, or he may have convinced himself. I can't tell.'

'Hm. Anything from Catarro?'

'Yes. There were some e-mails about the two stroke deaths. Enever suggested the patients might have suffered from mini strokes. There's nothing from Catarro about the autopsies.'

'They must have spoken on the phone,' I said. 'But the autopsy records should be easy to get.'

Lisa's hamburger arrived, and she munched on it nervously.

'You were right,' I said.

'Yes,' she replied. She gave me a small smile. 'Thank you for proving it.'

'You read in my note how Dr Catarro spoke to your father just before he died,' I said quietly.

Lisa nodded and bit her lip.

'I didn't kill him,' I said.

She looked down. 'I didn't want to meet you here, Simon. But you were right. This neuroxil-5 stuff is important. What I don't want to do is talk about us, OK?'

I sighed. 'How have you been feeling since you came out here?'

'Better,' said Lisa. 'I mean, I still feel awful about Dad. And I'm angry about Boston Peptides, and about you, and…' she paused. 'Sorry. We weren't going to talk about us. But the world doesn't seem quite as black as it did. Out here, I can see a new life. Some days, I almost feel human. It was the right thing to do.'

'Don't you miss me?' I asked, and then immediately regretted it.

She bit her lip, and ignored the question.

'Sorry. Can I ask you something else?'

'Maybe,' she mumbled, eyes lowered.

'Has Kelly spoken to you about the BP 56 trials?'

Lisa shook her head, but I had caught her interest.

'They're going well apart from one thing. Apparently, the drug causes depression in some of the volunteers who are taking it. It can reduce the levels of serotonin in the brain.' Now I had all her attention. 'When did you start taking it?'

'You remember. About a week after Dad died. We had all the animal data in, but we couldn't start giving the drug to volunteers until it had all been processed. We just didn't have the time to wait that long, so I started taking it myself to get an early indication of any side-effects.'

'And when did you stop? When you came out here?'

'Yes. When I was fired from Boston Peptides there didn't seem much point any more.'

I wanted to ask her again why she had been so stupid as to take an untested drug herself. But I didn't. I stayed quiet.

She put her head in her hands. 'That explains a lot. No wonder I felt so bad. Why didn't I realize that was what was happening?'

'There was a lot else going on,' I said.

'I guess you're right,' Lisa was shaking her head. 'How stupid! I mean, I was keeping a diary of how I felt, recording the tiniest change in my bowel movements. And there was I, feeling more miserable than I've ever felt in my life, and I didn't even notice it.'

'You weren't exactly in a position to think clearly.'

'I guess I wasn't.'

And now you've stopped taking it. Maybe that's why you feel better now?'

She looked up thoughtfully. 'Maybe.'

'Now can I tell you why I didn't kill your father?' I said quietly.

'Simon, I said-'

'I have a right to tell you. Just once. All you need to do is listen, and then you can go back to Eddie and your job at Stanford.'

She took a deep breath. 'OK.'

'Three people have been murdered in the last couple of months: your father, John Chalfont and Dr Catarro. The one thing that links all three is BioOne.'

'You said Dr Catarro died in a car accident,' Lisa interrupted.

'Yes. But it could have been faked.'

'Could have been?'

I fought to maintain my patience. 'Yes. Dr Catarro discovered that too many of his patients were dying after taking neuroxil-5. He was going to make a big fuss about it. He mentioned this to your father at a dinner party. Your father made his own inquiries. He asked Art amongst others about the drug. Knowing Frank, he would have been quick to reveal his suspicions as soon as he knew them. So someone killed both of them.'

Lisa was listening quietly now.

'Then John discovered something suspicious about BioOne, which he wanted to tell me about. So he was murdered. And when I was getting closer to what has happened, they tried to shoot me.'

'Shoot you?' Lisa exclaimed.

'Yes. Outside our apartment.'

'Oh, my God!' She put her hand over her mouth. 'Why would anyone do that?'

'If neuroxil-5 fails to get FDA approval, BioOne will be worthless. That will be very bad for a lot of people. There's Enever and Jerry Peterson. And the company means everything to Art. He's been looking more and more unstable since all this started.'

I watched Lisa. She was listening closely. 'But what about the gun I found in our closet, Simon?'

'I don't know about that,' I said. 'Someone must have put it there.'

'But who? How?'

I shook my head. 'I don't know'

Lisa was silent for a moment. 'Eddie's sure you did it.'

'I know. But what about John? And Dr Catarro? Why would I kill them? And why would I try to get myself shot?'

'I don't know.'

We were coming to the reason I had flown all this way. To the moment when I would know whether everything I had been doing over the last month had been worthwhile.

'I have one more question, and then you can go away and never see me again if you want,' I began. 'I can see how when you were so upset about your father and you were taking that drug you might have thought all kinds of things. But now, here, I want to know.' I took a deep breath. 'Do you think I murdered your father?'

Lisa looked down at the Formica table, and the debris of her burger. She fidgeted with a paper napkin.

'Lisa?'

'I don't…' she mumbled.

'Lisa. Look at me. Answer me. And then you can go.'

She looked up. A small nervous smile touched her lips. She shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'I don't think you killed him.'

I couldn't believe it! I was so happy, I wanted to leap into the air and shout. But I controlled myself. I knew I still had a long way to

go.

I looked at her empty plate. 'A hamburger?' I asked. 'I thought you never ate that kind of stuff.'

'It's my craving,' Lisa said. 'You'd have thought it could have been something truly delicious like double chocolate chip ice cream. But it's burgers and fries.'

'How are you?' I asked. 'How's the baby?'

Her hand fell to her stomach. I thought I could perhaps see a slight thickening of her waist, but maybe I was imagining it.

'I'm lousy. I've been throwing up almost every morning. And in the evenings, too, sometimes.' Then she looked up and her eyes gleamed. 'I saw the baby, Simon. I had an ultrasound on Friday. It's real. It has a head and it moves and everything!'

I wished I'd been there, but I couldn't say it.

It had stopped raining outside. 'Come on, let's get out of here,' I said.

We left the diner and walked. I wasn't quite sure where we were, and I didn't care where we went.

'I wasn't going to come,' Lisa said. 'I took your letter out of the trash can, like you knew I would. Then I dialled into Net Cop's network. I was up all night working through those files. I realized there was definitely something wrong with neuroxil-5 after all. But I still couldn't face seeing you. I told Eddie I wouldn't go. And then ten o'clock passed, and I felt worse and worse. But in the end, after what had happened to Aunt Zoe' and everything you'd done to get the information, I knew I had to see you,' she said. 'And you were still there!'

I reached for her hand and squeezed it. 'Only just.'

We walked through puddles, weaving our way past other pedestrians. Above us, blue sky was ripping through the black clouds. Isolated streams of sunshine illuminated the newly watered Victorian buildings of the Haight, giving the faded hippiedom of the shops and cafes a new glister.

'What have you been doing?' she asked.

I told her. I talked long and hard, about Revere, BioOne, Art, Gil, Craig, getting shot at, her. All the thoughts that had been rushing round my head over the previous week burst out in a torrent, as though a dam had been breached. Lisa was the only person in the world I had ever been able to tell everything to: it felt so good to talk to her again.

We entered Golden Gate Park. I assumed Lisa had steered us there, I had paid no attention to where we were going. We walked across to the Japanese Tea Garden, where Lisa had taken me on our first trip to San Francisco together. Because of the rain, it was virtually empty. We sat on a bench next to a miniature bridge over a tiny stream. The sun had emerged now, as the black clouds scurried over the Bay somewhere to the east. Water glistened on the moss-covered stones and lush green foliage, and gurgled through the stream beside us. I put my arm round her and pulled her close.

'I'm sorry, Simon,' she said. Am I forgiven?'

'Of course.'

'Can I come back?'

My heart leapt. I kissed her.

We took a taxi back to my hotel. We fell on each other, fulfilling each other's need, expressing with our bodies what we couldn't say in words. Joy, tenderness, fear, love, loneliness. Afterwards, as she lay softly in my arms, I didn't want to move, never wanted to leave this drab hotel room, this nondescript queen-size bed, and Lisa. Here was the woman I loved. Outside was all that had driven us apart.

Lisa sniffed. I looked down and saw a tear running down her face.

'What's wrong?'

'I was just thinking about Zoe,' she said.

'I know. It's very sad.' I squeezed her.

'I was really fond of her, you know.'

'I know'

She lay quietly for a few moments, and then dabbed her eyes with the sheet. 'It was horrible without you, Simon.'

'It was awful for me too.'

'It wasn't that I'd left you. It was that I thought you'd changed. Become someone else. Or, even worse, that you never were the man I thought you were. The man I loved. You haven't changed, have you Simon?'

'No,' I said, stroking her hair.

'I'd lost Dad like that too. And he turned out to be a different man than I thought he was.'

'No, Lisa, that's not true.'

Her eyes flicked up at me in surprise.

'Your father always loved you,' I continued. 'That was always genuine. He had one secret he kept from you, but he kept it from himself also. And it had nothing to do with you. He never regretted being your father, you know that. Don't think of him as someone different. He would have hated it.'

A smile spread across her thin face. She kissed me on the cheek and nestled into my chest.

'I'm sorry, Simon. I must have been very difficult.'

'You were having a very hard time.'

Lisa sighed. 'You know what the worst thing about taking BP 56 is?'

'What?'

'I'm pregnant.'

'You don't think…'

'I don't know. In theory it should have no effect at all. But you can never tell with new drugs. I'm scared.'

So was I. After all this, I prayed that the baby would be all right.

'Was the ultrasound OK?'

'So far. I'm going to have all the tests I can. I'm sorry, Simon.' I held her tight. She lay there in my arms for a long time.

There were two people to see before we headed out for the airport that evening. Lisa's mother was overjoyed. She kissed us both and wished us luck. She pleaded with us to keep our date for Thanksgiving and the only way we could extricate ourselves was by consenting.

Eddie was more difficult. I waited outside his building. Half an hour passed before Lisa came out.

'How did it go?' I asked, as we waited for a cab to appear.

She was silent for a bit. 'I'm lucky, Simon. I've got you, although sometimes I'm too stupid to realize it. Eddie doesn't have anyone.'

'You feel bad about leaving him?'

'Dad's death has torn him up.'

I looked her in the eye. 'Lisa. I don't want to force you to choose between your brother and me. When we've sorted this out, go back and stay with him for a while. I don't want to be his enemy.'

She glanced up at me and smiled. 'Thanks. Now, let's go.'