Mindbend

CHAPTER 7

Two days later, Adam was waiting on the street in front of his apartment house for the Arolen rep to pick him up. McGuire had called the preceding evening and said that a Percy Harmon would meet Adam at eight-thirty and take him on a round of sales calls.

Adam had been standing outside for nearly twenty minutes, but despite the cold drizzle he was glad to be out of the apartment. Although he and Jennifer had patched up their quarrel, she was still upset that he had dropped out of medical school and taken a job at a drug company. He knew part of the reason her reaction bothered him so much was his own ambivalence about working for Arolen. Still, it wasn’t forever and it did solve their financial problems. Maybe his in-laws would even tell her he’d done the right thing when she went out to visit today, but he doubted it.

A blue Chevy was slowing in front of him. The driver stopped and rolled down the window. “Can you tell me where 514 is?”

“Percy Harmon?” called Adam.

“You betcha,” answered the driver as he leaned over and opened the passenger-side door.

Closing his jacket against the rain, Adam ran down the steps and ducked into the car.

Percy apologized for being late, explaining that traffic on the FDR Drive had been murderous due to an accident at the Forty-ninth Street exit.

Adam liked Percy immediately, appreciating his friendliness. He was a little older than Adam and was dressed in a dark blue suit with a red polka-dot tie and matching handkerchief. He looked businesslike and successful.

They turned north on Park Avenue and headed uptown.

“Clarence McGuire was pretty enthusiastic about you on the telephone,” said Percy. “What’s your secret?”

“I don’t know for sure,” said Adam, “but I suppose it’s because I was a third-year medical student at the medical center.”

“Good God, of course that’s it!” said Percy. “No wonder they loved you. With your background, you’ll be way ahead of us laymen.”

Adam was far from convinced. He’d learned a lot of facts about bones and enzymes, and the function of T-lymphocytes. But how useful was that information to Arolen? Besides, such facts had a disturbing way of dropping out of Adam’s mind after a particular test was over. He glanced around the inside of Percy’s car. There were pamphlets in boxes on the back seat. Next to the boxes were looseleaf notebooks, computer printouts, and a pile of order forms. Printed memoranda were stuck into the recesses on the dash. The car had the look of a busy office. Adam was not convinced that his medical-school background would be of any use in his new job. He glanced over at Percy, who was busy navigating the New York City traffic. The man looked relaxed and confident and Adam felt envious.

“How’d you get involved with Arolen?” asked Adam.

“I was recruited straight out of business school,” said Percy. “I’d taken some health economics courses in college and was interested in the health field. Somehow Arolen found out and contacted me for an interview. I researched the company and was impressed. Being a sales rep has been fun, but I’m looking forward to the next step. And thanks to you, I’m heading off for the managerial training in Puerto Rico.”

“What do you mean ‘thanks to me’?”

“Clarence told me that you were going to be my replacement. I’ve been trying to go to Puerto Rico for a year.”

“They offered me the same opportunity,” said Adam.

“To go straight to Puerto Rico?” exclaimed Percy. “My God, man, take them up on it. I don’t know if you know it but Arolen is owned by an extremely fast-growing financial group. About ten years ago some clever guys started an organization called MTIC to invest in the health industry. Arolen was one of their first acquisitions. When they got control of the company, it was an inconsequential drug house. Now it is challenging the biggies like Lilly and Merck. Joining now, you’ll still be getting in on the ground floor. Who did you meet out at Arolen besides Clarence McGuire?”

“Bill Shelly and Dr. Nachman.”

Percy whistled and took his eyes off the traffic long enough to give Adam an appraising glance. “You got to meet two of the original MTIC founders. Both are rumored to be on the board of directors of MTIC as well as having executive positions with Arolen. And how did you meet Nachman? He is the head of research down in Puerto Rico.”

“He was here for some meeting,” explained Adam curtly. Percy’s response made him wonder anew if Arolen was interested in him or, despite their assurances, his father.

“The other thing about Puerto Rico,” Percy was saying, “is that the center there is as luxurious as a resort. I’ve only been there once, but it is out of this world. I’m looking forward to training there. It’s going to seem like a paid vacation.”

Watching the rain beat on the windshield, Adam wondered what kind of maternity facilities they had in Puerto Rico. The idea of bright sun as well as the chance to get Jennifer away from her parents had certain appeal. He sighed. It was nice to daydream, but the fact of the matter was that he wanted to stay as near to the medical center as possible. Puerto Rico was out of the question.

“Here we are,” said Percy, guiding the car over to the curb in front of a typical midtown New York City apartment building. He parked in a “No Standing” tow zone, opened the glove compartment and took out a small sign that read: “Visiting Physician.” “This represents a slight distortion of the usual meaning of this phrase, but it’s nonetheless true,” he said, smiling at Adam. “Now let’s plan the attack. The idea here is for you to get some idea of what it’s like to call on a typical physician. This fellow’s name is Dr. Jerry Smith. He happens to be a very successful Park Avenue obstetrician. He’s also a horse’s ass. He thinks of himself as some intellectual giant, so it will be extremely easy to butter him up. He also likes free samples, a predilection which we will be happy to indulge. Any questions before we go to battle?”

Adam said no, but Dr. Markowitz’s comment about defecting to the enemy haunted him as he got out of the car. Percy opened the trunk and gave Adam a large umbrella to hold while he got out a bunch of drug samples.

“Smith’s favorites are tranquilizers,” said Percy. “Whatever he does with them all, I have no idea.” Percy loaded a small cardboard box with a variety of drugs, then closed the trunk.

Dr. Smith’s office was packed with women. The air was close and smelled of damp wool.

Adam hurried after Percy, who went straight to the receptionist. Reluctantly, Adam glanced around and saw many pairs of eyes regarding him over the tops of magazines.

“Hello, Carol,” Percy was saying. “What a stunning outfit. And your hair! There’s something different. Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You got a perm. God, it looks terrific. And how’s that little boy of yours? Good, huh. Well, let me introduce you to Adam Schonberg. He’s going to be taking over my customers. Now, would you mind if he looked at that dynamite photo you have of your boy? The one on the bear rug.”

Adam found himself holding a cube of plexiglass with different photos on each side. Percy adjusted it in his hand so that he was looking at a chubby baby lying on a bath towel.

“And Carol, what about your father?” asked Percy, taking the picture cube out of Adam’s hands and putting it back down on the desk. “Is he out of the hospital yet?”

Two minutes later Percy and Adam were standing in the doctor’s consultation room, waiting for Smith to appear. “That was an amazing performance,” whispered Adam.

“Piece of cake,” said Percy with a wave of his hand. “But I’ll tell you something. The receptionist or nurse is the person you have to impress in the doctor’s office. She controls access to the physician and if you don’t handle her properly, you’ll die of old age waiting to get in.”

“But you acted like you were good friends with that woman,” said Adam. “How did you know all those things about her personal life?”

“Arolen provides you with that kind of information,” said Percy simply. “Arolen keeps a complete record on every member of each physician’s staff as well as the doctor himself. You feed it into the computer. Then when you have questions, you can get the answers. Nothing mysterious about it. It’s just attention to detail.”

Adam glanced around Smith’s office. It was elegantly furnished, composed of dark lacquered cabinets and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Facing into the room was a large mahogany desk, piled high with journals. Adam glanced at the date on the top issue of the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology. It was more than a year old. A paper mailing binder was still around the magazine. It had never been opened.

The door opened. Dr. Smith stopped on the threshold and called down the hall. “Put the next patients into rooms six and seven.”

A voice answered, but it was too far away to hear.

“I know I’m behind schedule,” shouted Dr. Smith. “So what else is new? Tell them I’ve got an important conference.” He came into the office and kicked the door shut behind him. “Nurses, shit!” He was a big man with an impressive paunch. His heavy jowls made him look like an old bulldog.

“Dr. Smith, how are you?” beamed Percy. Smith allowed the rep to shake his hand and then quickly retreated behind his desk, where he brought out a pack of filter-tipped Camels. He lit one and blew the smoke out through his nostrils.

“I’d like you to meet Adam Schonberg,” continued Percy, gesturing toward Adam. “He’s started training for Arolen and I’m taking him around to meet a few of my more prestigious clients.”

The doctor smiled and said, “Well, what do you boys have for me this morning?”

“All sorts of samples,” said Percy, putting the cardboard box on the edge of the desk and opening it. Dr. Smith eagerly moved forward on his chair.

“I know how much you like Marlium, Arolen’s top-selling tranquilizer, so I brought you a good supply. You’ll notice that the packaging has been improved. Patients love these new bright yellow bottles. I also have a reprint for you. Studies just completed at the Julian Clinic here in New York indicate that Marlium has the fewest side effects of any tranquilizer on the market today. But I don’t have to tell you that. You’ve been telling us the same thing for as long as I can remember.”

“Damn right,” said Dr. Smith.

Percy lined up the other drug samples in neat rows on Dr. Smith’s desk, all the time maintaining a running commentary on the proven excellence of the various products. At every possible juncture he complimented Dr. Smith’s perspicacity in prescribing Arolen drugs for his patients.

“And last but not least,” said Percy, “I’ve brought you fifty starter samples of pregdolen. I know I don’t have to convince you of the virtues of this drug for morning sickness. You were one of the first to recognize its value. However, I do have a reprint of a recent article that I’d like you to read when you get a chance. It compares pregdolen with other similar drugs on the market and shows that pregdolen is cleared by the liver faster than anything put out by the competition.”

Percy put a glossy reprint on top of one of the piles on Dr. Smith’s desk.

“By the way, how is that boy of yours, David? Isn’t he a junior now up at Boston University? Adam, you should meet this kid. Looks like Tom Selleck, only better.”

“He’s doing very well, thanks,” beamed Dr. Smith. He took one last drag on his cigarette before crushing it in a beanbag ashtray. “The kid is premed, you know.”

“I know,” said Percy. “He’s not going to have any trouble getting into medical school.”

Fifteen minutes later Adam found himself climbing back into the passenger side of the Chevy Celebrity. Percy slid the umbrella in on the floor of the back seat and then got behind the wheel. There was a parking ticket under the windshield wiper.

“Oh, well,” said Percy. “That sign of mine doesn’t always work.” He turned on the wipers and the ticket disappeared. “Ta-da!” he said, raising his hands as if he’d just done a magic trick. “The car is registered to Arolen and the legal department takes care of that sort of thing. Now, let’s see who’s next.” He picked up the clipboard and turned to the next computer printout.

The morning passed quickly as Adam watched Percy expertly handle receptionists and push Arolen products onto busy practitioners. Adam was amazed at how effective Percy was with the physicians. Having talked with Percy all morning, he was aware of how little scientific information Percy had to draw on. Yet it didn’t seem to matter. Percy knew just enough to make it sound as if he knew a great deal, and armed with a lot of current drug information, he was able to snow the physician. Adam began to appreciate the low regard that Arolen had for the intelligence of the average doctor.

Around eleven-thirty, after leaving the office of an internist on Sutton Place South, Percy got into the car and rested his head on the steering wheel. “I think I’m having a hypoglycemic crisis. I gotta get something to eat. Is it too early for you?”

“It’s never too early for me,” said Adam.

“Great!” said Percy. “Since Arolen is paying, we’re going to do it right.”

Adam had joked in the past about the Four Seasons restaurant as being a symbol of the rich, though he’d never been in the place. When Percy had suggested they go there, Adam thought he was joking. When he led the way into the Grill Room, Adam almost passed out.

Putting his linen napkin on his lap, Adam tried to remember what it was like in the crowded hospital cafeteria. It seemed a million miles away. A waiter asked Adam if he wanted a drink. Not sure of himself, he looked over at Percy who calmly ordered a martini. What the hell, thought Adam, who quickly said he’d have the same.

“So what is your impression of the business now that you’ve gotten your feet wet?”

“It’s interesting,” said Adam evasively. “Do you eat here every day?”

“No, to tell you the truth. But McGuire said to impress you.”

Adam laughed. He liked Percy’s candor. “I’m impressed enough with your abilities. You’re very good.”

Percy shook his head. “It’s easy. Like catching fish at a trout farm. For some inexplicable reason, doctors know very little about drugs. Maybe you can tell me the reason.”

Adam thought for a moment. He’d had courses in pharmacology like everyone else, but it was true that he knew very little about the actual use of the drugs. He’d only been taught about their action on a cellular level. What little he knew about prescribing he’d picked up on the wards. Before he could answer Percy’s question, their drinks arrived.

“Here’s to your career with Arolen,” said Percy, holding up his glass.

“What about this pregdolen you’ve been pushing?” asked Adam, remembering Jennifer’s recent complaints. “My wife has been having some trouble with morning sickness. Maybe I should take a couple of those starter samples.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Percy, suddenly serious. “I know Arolen sells a ton of it, and a lot of people think it’s the best thing since sliced bread, but I don’t think the drug works and there’s a possibility it’s toxic.”

“What do you mean?” asked Adam.

“It’s been written up in several of the more important medical journals,” said Percy, taking another sip of his drink. “Of course, I don’t refer to those articles when I call on the doctors. Obviously the doctors haven’t read them because they keep prescribing the stuff like crazy. It sure explodes the myth that doctors get their drug information from the medical journals. For most practitioners that’s bullshit. They get their drug information, what little they get, from the likes of me, and I only tell them what I want to tell them.”

Percy shrugged when he noticed Adam’s shocked expression. “You more than anyone must know that doctors prescribe out of hunch and habit. Our job is to try to make Arolen part of that habit.”

Adam slowly turned his glass and watched the olive revolve. He was beginning to realize what he’d have to close his eyes to in this line of work.

Sensing Adam’s misgivings, Percy added, “To tell you the honest truth, it will be a relief to get away from the sales end of the business.”

“Why?” asked Adam.

Percy sighed. “I don’t know how much of this I should be telling you. I don’t want to dampen your enthusiasm. But some weird things have been going on in my area. For instance, a number of doctors that I’d been seeing on a regular basis have been taken off my sales list. At first I thought that they’d moved away or died, but then I found out that most of them had gone on an Arolen Conference Cruise, come back, and given up their practices to go to the Julian Clinic.”

“Julian Clinic” evoked a strange response in the pit of Adam’s stomach, as he remembered the name from Jennifer’s story.

“Some of those doctors I’d gotten to know pretty well,” continued Percy, “so I went to see them even though the Julian Clinic isn’t part of my territory. What struck me was that they had all changed somehow. A good example was a Dr. Lawrence Foley I’d been seeing since I began working for Arolen. He didn’t have much use for Arolen products, but I saw him because I liked the man. In fact, we played tennis about twice a month.”

“The Lawrence Foley who just committed suicide?” asked Adam.

“That’s the one,” said Percy. “And his suicide is part of the kind of change I’m talking about. I really felt I knew the man. He was a partner in one of the busiest OB-GYN practices in town. Then he went away on an Arolen cruise, came back, and gave up everything to work at the Julian Clinic. When I went to see him, he was a different man. He was so preoccupied with work, he couldn’t take the time to play tennis. And he was not the suicidal type. The man had never been depressed a day in his life, and he loved his work and his wife. When I heard what happened, I couldn’t believe it. After shooting his wife he put the shotgun in his mouth and…”

“I get the picture,” said Adam quickly. “What’s the story about these Arolen Conference Cruises?”

“They are very popular medical seminars that are given on a cruise ship in the Caribbean. The lecturers are the most famous professors and researchers in their various fields. The meetings have the best reputation of any medical conventions in the country,” said Percy. “But that’s all I know. Being curious, I asked Clarence McGuire about them, but he said he didn’t know much more except that they were organized by MTIC.”

“If you’re really curious,” said Adam, “why not ask Bill Shelly? If what you told me is true about Arolen liking information about doctors, it seems to me they’d be fascinated by your observations. Besides, I can tell you that Bill Shelly is a surprisingly young and personable guy.”

“No kidding,” said Percy. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll go over there this afternoon. I’ve always wanted to meet Mr. Shelly and this could be my chance.”

When Adam asked Percy to drop him off at the medical center late that afternoon, he had the feeling he was not going to be the same doctor after working for Arolen. They had visited sixteen physicians’ offices and had, according to Percy, dispensed over five hundred bottles of sample drugs. Most of the doctors had been like Smith: eager to get the samples, quick to accept Percy’s pitch.

Adam went into the hospital through the medical school entrance and headed up to the periodical room at the library. He wanted to look up pregdolen in the recent journals. Percy’s comments had made him curious, and he did not like the idea of selling a drug with really bad side effects.

He found what he wanted in a ten-month-old issue of the New England Journal of Medicine. It would have been hard for a practicing OB man to have missed it.

Just as Percy had suggested, pregdolen had proved inefficacious when tested against a placebo. In fact, in all but three cases the placebo had done a better job in controlling morning sickness. More importantly, the studies showed that pregdolen was often teratogenic, causing severe developmental abnormalities in fetuses.

Turning to the Journal of Applied Pharmacology, Adam found that despite the adverse publicity, pregdolen’s sales had shown a steady increase over the years, with an especially impressive surge in the last year. Adam closed the journal, wondering if he were more awed by Arolen’s marketing abilities or the average obstetrician’s ignorance.

Putting the magazine back, he decided it was a tossup.

Percy Harmon felt like he was on top of the world as he drove out of the parking area of his favorite Japanese restaurant with a fabulous meal of steak sukiyaki under his belt. The restaurant was located in, of all places, Fort Lee, New Jersey, but at that hour of the night, ten-thirty, it wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes to return to his apartment in Manhattan.

He did not notice the nondescript man in a blue blazer and tan slacks who’d stayed at the bar the entire time Percy had been in the restaurant. The man watched until the blue Chevy disappeared from sight, then made for the nearby phone booth. “He’s left the restaurant. Should be at the garage in fifteen minutes. I’ll call the airport.”

Without waiting for an answer, the man cut the connection and dropped in two more coins. He pushed the buttons slowly, almost mechanically.

Driving down the Harlem River Drive, Percy wondered why he had never thought of going to Bill Shelly before. Not only had the man welcomed Percy’s observations, he’d been downright friendly. In fact, he’d taken Percy to meet the executive vice-president, and making those kinds of contacts within an organization like Arolen was invaluable. Percy felt that his future had never looked so promising.

Percy stopped in front of the garage Arolen had found for him just four blocks from his Seventy-fourth Street apartment. The only time it was inconvenient was when it was raining. It was in a huge warehouselike structure that dominated the potholed street. The entrance was barred by an imposing metal grate. Percy pressed the remote control device that he kept in the glove compartment and the grate lifted. Above the entrance was a single sign that said simply “Parking, day, week, or month,” followed by a local telephone number.

After Percy had driven inside, the metal grille reactivated and with a terrible screeching closed with a definitive thud. There were no assigned spots, and Percy made a hopeful swing around before heading down the ramp to the next level. He preferred to park on the ground floor; the ill-lit spaces of the substreet levels always made him nervous.

Because of the late hour, Percy had to descend three levels before finding a spot. He locked the car and walked toward the stairwell, whistling to keep his spirits up. His heels echoed against the oil-stained cement floor and in the distance he could hear water dripping. Reaching the stairs, he yanked open the door and almost fainted with shock. Two men with old-fashioned crew cuts and wearing plain blue blazers faced him. They didn’t move, they didn’t speak. They just stood blocking his way.

Fear spread through Percy’s body like a bolt of electricity. He let go of the door and stepped backward. One of the men reached out and with a bang sent the door crashing against the wall. Percy turned and fled, racing for the stairwell at the opposite end of the garage. His leather-soled shoes skidded on the concrete, making it hard for him to keep his balance.

Looking over his shoulder, he was relieved to see that neither of the two men was in pursuit. He reached the door of the far exit and tried to pull it open. The handle didn’t budge. His heart sank. The door was locked!

All he could hear was the rasping sound of his own breath and the constant drip of water. The only other way out was the ramp and he started toward it. He was almost there when he saw one of the men standing immobile at the base of the sloping driveway, his arms at his side. Percy ducked behind a parked car and tried to think what to do. Obviously the men had split up; one was watching the stairwell, the other the ramp. It was then that Percy remembered the old automobile elevator in the center.

Keeping low, he moved toward it stealthily. When he reached it, he raised the wooden gate, ducked under, then lowered it after himself. The other three walls of the elevator were enclosed with a heavy wire mesh. The only light came from a bare overhead bulb. Percy’s shaking finger pushed the button marked “ 1.”

The elevator activated with a snapping noise, followed by the high-pitched whine of an electric motor. To Percy’s relief, the platform jolted, then slowly started to rise.

The elevator moved at an agonizingly slow rate, and Percy was no more than six feet from street level when the two men materialized beneath him.

Without haste, one of them walked over to the elevator control and, to Percy’s horror, reversed its direction. Panic-stricken, Percy repeatedly pushed the button, but the elevator relentlessly continued its descent. Gradually, he realized that they had planned for him to use the elevator. That was why they had not chased him. They wanted to trap him.

“What do you want?” he shouted. “You can have my money.” Desperately, he pulled out his wallet and tossed it through the wooden lattice to the garage floor. One of the men bent and picked it up. Without looking through it, he pocketed it. The other man had pulled out what Percy first thought was a gun. But as he drew closer he realized it was a syringe.

Percy backed to the rear of the elevator, feeling like a trapped animal. As the machinery ground to a stop, one of the men reached out and raised the wooden gate. Percy screamed in terror and slid to the floor.

Just over an hour later, a blue van pulled onto the tarmac at Teterboro Airport and rolled to a stop in front of a Gulf Stream jet. Two men got out, walked to the rear of the van, and hefted out a sizable wooden crate. Silently, the cargo door on the plane slid open.