Rye huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve got a twenty in my pocket that can be yours on top of the fare, plus the expected fifteen percent, if you stopping bitching and drive. But don’t take the exit to the main terminals. Take the one just before it.”
Brynn said, “Back way?”
“Back alley.”
“What’s there?”
“Lots of porn.”
Chapter 22
8:58 p.m.
Delores ended the call with a decisive tap on her phone screen. “They missed them by minutes.”
Nate, still seated at the desk where she had assigned him a place, ran his hand over the top of his head. Richard gripped the rolled armrests of the easy chair in which he sat, an evident attempt to keep himself from flying into a rage.
Only by an act of will did Delores keep her voice steady as she recounted for them everything Goliad had told her. “According to him, they must have used an emergency exit. It’s the only way they could have gotten out of the building unseen. He doesn’t know if they left the premises on foot, or if they have transportation now, but either way, they disappeared. He’s spent the past twenty minutes cruising through the complex in search of them.”
“Did you give Goliad her home address?”
“He’s on his way there now. But she would be a fool to go home, and she’s no fool, which has become all too obvious.” She turned to Nate. “How could you have let her out of your sight before checking the box to be certain that the vial was in there?”
“She didn’t sneak the drug while I was with her,” he exclaimed. “Blame your two watchdogs. They were with her for hours. You should be castigating them, not me.”
Delores hugged her elbows, running her hands over her upper arms in agitation. To a large extent, Nate was right, but she’d be damned before admitting it. Besides, who was he to correct her? He was getting way above himself.
“Well,” she said, “we can be glad we made that preemptive strike. The girl is hundreds of miles away, surrounded by media and medical personnel. Dr. O’Neal can’t get to her. But we must get to Dr. O’Neal.” She checked her wristwatch. “Need I remind anyone that we now have less than twenty-four hours to start the infusion?”
She went to Richard’s chair, bent over the back of it, and hugged him from behind. “We’ve been under shorter deadlines, darling.” She kissed the top of his head, then turned to Nate. “What was the pharmacologist’s last stand on sneaking another vial?”
“He’s unbending. The offer of more money didn’t faze him. And, he, uh, raised another sticking point.” He left the desk, went to the bar, and helped himself to three fingers of their best scotch.
Delores said, “Well?”
Nate shifted his gaze to Richard, who sat contained, but rather like a volcano building up pressure before an eruption. Delores recognized the signs. Nate did not. He faced Richard squarely.
“During our last conversation, the pharmacologist used the word ‘transparency.’ More than once.”
“In what context?” Richard asked.
“The upcoming Senate committee hearing. I believe it’s scheduled for week after next?” He sipped his drink, cleared his throat. “The opioid crisis has created a rush—many fear a dangerous rush—to put treatment drugs on the market. This has placed the commissioner of the FDA and the heads of several pharmaceutical companies in the hot seat to defend their haste. You’re sitting on that committee, Richard, as an outspoken critic of the accelerated testing, and as a banner carrier for enforcing stricter regulations.”
“You’re telling me things I already know, Nate,” he said. “And the crisis I’m most concerned about tonight is the one taking place in this sitting room.” To emphasize the last four words, he made stabbing motions toward the floor with his index finger.
“I understand, of course,” Nate said. “But, you’ve been advocating a ‘clamp-down’ on the sponsors of experimental drugs, especially those covered by the Orphan Drug Act. You’re quoted as saying it’s not ‘cost effective’ to spend millions on developing a drug when relatively few patients will benefit from it. As you know, GX-42 falls into that category.”
He paused to let all that sink in, although Delores had gotten his point, and so had Richard.
Nate swirled the scotch in his glass. “This has created a moral dilemma for the pharmacologist. He’s conflicted over provi
ding it to you, when you’re on a soapbox demanding budget cuts that would curtail its testing. To paraphrase him, it’s like you want to squeak in under the wire before limitations, heatedly endorsed by you, are implemented.”
Richard’s fingers turned white with tension around the armrest. “To a man of integrity, as, according to you, this scientist is, I can see where that might create a moral dilemma.”
“Well, then—”
“But you have no integrity, Nate.” He leveled his fiercest glare on him. “How dare you take the high ground. Do not speak to me about moral dilemmas, or transparency. In short, do not fuck with me again.”