He’s mumbling, but I’m uncertain what he is saying. I should have reacted sooner, but it’s too late as I feel the cold piece of steel through my shirt, pushing into my rib cage. He’s rambling and drunk. I can smell his putrid breath, and he’s looking at me, but there is nothing behind his eyes that show they are registering anything. He smells terrible, as if he hasn’t showered in some time, and what little hair he has on his bald head is disheveled. I finally realize what he’s saying. “You were supposed to be the one.”
I have no idea what he’s referring to, so I explain, “Vance, I’m not sure what you’re saying, but my ride is pulling up and I need to go.”
“You can’t leave,” he yells.
I push him back, making him stumble, and the gun in his hand discharges. My ears are ringing, and I see only the taillights of the rideshare as it speeds away. I don’t feel like I was shot, but I’m not sure where the bullet went.
“Call 9-1-1,” I hear someone say.
The gun crashes to the ground, and he scurries away. I stand there frozen as the police cars pull up with their lights and sirens blaring.
I hear, “The homeless guy who tried to hold him up ran that way.”
Two officers follow where they were pointed, and another starts asking me questions.
“He’s about five foot five and is as wide as he is tall. He’s bald, and tonight he smelled terrible, like he hasn’t showered in a while. His name is Dr. Vance Johnson. He is the founder of Black Rock Therapeutics.” I explain the last few weeks of events to them and answer all their questions.
They’re able to pull up the photo from his driver’s license and ask me and the couple who were witnesses if this is the same man. Since I know him, I agree quickly, but the couple is slower to agree given his state when they saw him.
“Mr. Reinhardt, please be cautious of your surroundings. We are going to attempt to locate him, and when we do, we’ll let you know, but meanwhile please be aware. You can go home now. We’ll reach out if we have any other questions.”
I nod and call up another rideshare. It’s been a long day, and I’m glad it’s over.
Chapter twenty-two
Isabella
I’ve slept ten plus hours each night for the last three weeks, and it’s been amazing. I feel refreshed, and I’m thinking clearer. My brain is functioning, and I think I’m far less emotional. I make a point of getting out and running every day, attending a yoga class a few times a week, and I’m really managing my stress levels well.
I realize with this change in schedule that I need to make some changes in my life. As I sort through my junk mail and bills, there’s a knock at my door. Since I live in a locked building, and I didn’t buzz anyone in, I open the door, expecting it to be one of my neighbors. I'm surprised to find two gentlemen standing there.
“Ms. Vargas?” I nod, and they flash their badges. “I’m Detective Eric Lenning, and this is Detective Tim Gallagher. We’re detectives with the SFPD. May we come in?” They look at me expectantly.
I’m nervous about what they could want. “Yes, I suppose so.” I step back and allow them entry. “What’s this regarding?”
“Dr. Christopher Reinhardt and Dr. Vance Johnson.”
My stomach drops to the floor. What the heck could be happening? “Yes, please come in.”
They sit down on my couch and interview me.
“What is your relationship with Dr. Vance Johnson?”
I explain our relationship.
“What is your relationship with Dr. Christopher Reinhardt?”
I explain how I met him and make sure they understand how SHN came to work with Black Rock.
“How did Dr. Johnson end your business relationship?”
I share how I believe he’s behind the stealing of my computer and the person who uploaded the information to the internet so he could take my company from me.
“How do you think he fabricated the situation?”
I get up and fish my wallet from the bottom of my purse. I pull out the business card of the officer who we spoke to after Christopher’s car had been broken into.
“Have you seen or spoken with Christopher since you were terminated?”
“No, I haven’t. Unfortunately, I needed to kind of figure things out and get some sleep. For the last eighteen months, I’ve running on about four hours of sleep each night.”
“When was the last time you saw Dr. Johnson?”
I hesitate to tell them what happened at the museum, but finally I do and show them my bruise on my upper right arm.
“Why didn’t you report the assault to the police?”
I am shocked because I don’t feel like I was assaulted. When I think of assault, I think of battery. I think rape. All he did was grab me by the arm and yell obscenities at me. Sure, I thought he was crazy, but I just brushed it off and came home.
“Were you aware he had a gun?” Detective Lenning asks.
I blanch. I had been direct and said things to him that upset him. He knows where I live. “No, I didn’t know he had a gun. He just grabbed me and kept asking what I said to SHN regarding the bookkeeping.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that Dr. Johnson is, how do I put this gently… obsessed with you?” Detective Gallagher says.
“Obsessed? How? Why?”
“From notes he’s written, he seems to have been following you for some time. He has notes about seeing you and Christopher meeting behind his back.”
“He was the one meeting behind my back. Why would he be following me?”
“He seemed to feel that you were the key to getting the funding for Black Rock and therefore his success. Does that surprise you?”
“Y-y-yes,” I stammer. “I don’t know why he questioned me about the funding and the challenges he was having securing the money from SHN. He took everything from me when he took my company. I learned recently through some voice mails and texts that they chose not to fund Black Rock, but my understanding is it’s because he presented false records and bookkeeping.”
“Ms. Vargas, were you aware that Dr. Johnson approached Dr. Reinhardt and brandished a gun?”
My stomach tightens, and I immediately ask, “Is Christopher okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. The firearm did discharge, and Dr. Johnson ran away. We’re in the process of trying to locate Dr. Johnson. Do you know where he might be?”
I shake my head vigorously. “I think he lived close to Noe Valley, but I don’t know that for certain.” The tears begin to pool in my eyes. “Where is Christopher now?”
“He’s not in the hospital, and as far as we know, he’s probably in his own home,” Detective Lenning shares thoughtfully.
I don’t know what to do about Christopher. I feel conflicted about how I ended things.
“Ms. Vargas, be sure to be aware as you move around The City. He’s upset with you and Dr. Reinhardt,” Detective Gallagher emphasizes.
Chapter twenty-three
Christopher
The sun creeps into my bedroom between the crack in the drapes and wakes me. It’s early, but now that I’m awake enough, my mind spins out of control thinking about Dr. Johnson. I need to go for a run. It’s going to be a full day, and I’ve come to have a love-hate relationship with running. My sister would tell you she loved to hate it, but I like the aftereffects of running. I just hate it when I’m doing it.
While I run, I think about my day ahead. I get it all planned out before I return home and get ready.
I've got a meeting with Jeremy Sutherland over at Everest Therapeutics first thing. We’ve agreed to meet in his neighborhood in North Beach at a coffee spot close to his place. When I arrive, I spot him right away; I can see how he’d be quite at home in a lab coat or with a plastic pocket protector in his shirt pocket with several pens. “Jeremy?”
“Yes. You must be Christopher?”
“I am. Great to meet you.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it and makes eye contact. Score one for being not that big of a
nerd. “Thank you for meeting me.”
We get in the long line of people seeking out their morning caffeine hit. Grabbing our drinks, we sit down in the corner at a small table. He did apply for funding with SHN, so he’s a little nervous.
I see the cover of the newspaper has a story about one of the Giants players, so to break the ice a little bit, I make small talk instead of jumping right in. “Are you a Giants fan?”
“I like baseball okay. If I had to choose, I’d go for the A’s. And you?”
“I’m a Twin’s fan.”
“Are you from Minnesota?”
“I am—Minneapolis.”
“I’m from Cedar Rapids originally, although, at this point, I’ve lived longer here in Northern California,” he shares.
“I’m not there yet. I went to the U for undergrad and then to Carolina for medical school and my MBA.”
“So you understand the science behind the pharma world.”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far. I understand what you’re doing and the possible implications.”
He smiles. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“I’m hoping for some insight from you. Are you familiar with Black Rock Therapeutics?”
“Only on the periphery. I know they are using a method I was part of developing to create a drug for the treatment of Parkinson’s.”
“That’s right. SHN was going to invest with them, and then something happened that I think you are familiar with.” He sits silently, waiting for me to continue. “I understand you were truly the one who invented this delivery system and getting the drug to the brain, which Dr. Johnson took credit for and eventually won the Lasker Award.”
He studies me carefully. “You’re with SHN? Do you have any proof of that?”
I take my wallet out and hand him my card, and while he looks at it, I pull up the company website on my cell phone and show my photo.”
“Sorry. After what happened, I’m reluctant to trust many people.”
“I get that. We believe he did the same thing he did to you to the grad student he was working with at Black Rock. Can you tell me, how did you hook up with Dr. Johnson originally?”
“We were introduced by another grad student at Stanford. He was doing something unique with a drug that was used for a heart issue but was having a problem with the delivery system. My research showed it might be a good option for him. We worked together for some time. He was responsible for the drug, and I was responsible for the delivery system. His drug wasn’t working because ultimately aspirin would be more beneficial than what he had developed.”
I laugh because, in research circles, that is what people often say about failed drugs. “How did he take the delivery system from you?”
“I trusted the woman who introduced us, and she used my laptop to post some confidential information on the internet, and he used that to squeeze me out.”
I sit up straight in my chair. “He did the same thing to the founder of Black Rock.”
“I’m ashamed to admit, I know a lot more about Black Rock than I let on. I heard about what he did to Isabella Vargas.”
“This makes my next question easier then. Would you be interested in having a conversation with Isabella Vargas? We at SHN like the drug she’s working on and the delivery system you created. We may be willing to come up with the funding for you both if you consider a joint venture.”
Now it’s his turn to sit up straight. “What exactly does that mean?”
“If you two were to work together, SHN would be quite interested in helping you come up with a business plan and funding you that $300 million to get the drug to market.”
“What does she say about this?”
“I don’t know yet. We haven’t suggested it. I wanted to see if you were open to the idea first.”
I can see the excitement in his eyes. “I’m definitely interested.”
“My thought is if we can put together a strong plan, SHN can help get you to market. We would be partners—one third owned by you, one third owned by Isabella Vargas, and one third owned by SHN. The two of you together have something that could really make it to market and be an absolutely viable company. It will be important that you both can work together.”
“I’m absolutely interested in meeting with Ms. Vargas, and I don’t care if she has her PhD yet. I’ve looked at some of the research that was posted online, and I know for certain she’s smart enough, and she will get that PhD.”
“Great. I appreciate your time today. You have my business card, and I will put the two of you in touch with one another.”
“Wow, you’ve just made my day. Thank you very much. I’m incredibly excited. You know how to get a hold of me. I’ll meet her anywhere she wants to meet.”
Now I need to find Bella, but first I drive down to San Jose and meet with her mother. Why is it that just the idea of meeting with her scares me? Maybe because she was so direct with me when we met.
“Hello, Christopher.”
“Dr. Vargas, hello. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“I appreciate you coming to me.”
She walks me back to her office, and I notice the walls are covered in her awards. She’s a gifted doctor and very driven; I see where Bella gets it from.
“I understand you were behind getting Bella kicked from her company.”
“No. That’s not the case. I swear. Without her, the company has no value, so we’re not funding it.”
“I see. And what can I do for you?”
“I need to speak with Bella. She may not want to see me romantically, which kills me, but I met a man who Dr. Johnson did the same thing to, and I’d like to introduce them. He was the one behind the delivery system, and if they could work together, my company would like to fund them to get to market.”
She looks at me thoughtfully. “She’d make a wonderful physician.”
“I don’t doubt that. She has your smarts and drive, but she also has an innate curiosity that would make the practice of medicine boring for her over the long term. She’s a researcher, and the world could benefit from her skills and brains.”
“I appreciate your candor, and you may be right. I’ll also tell you, I’m not sure where she is. I think she went home to her apartment. She unplugged for several weeks and lived without her cell phone, so I’m not sure where she’s gone.”
Hearing that she’s been without her cell phone makes my heart flutter. There is a possibility, even if only slight, that she hasn’t seen my messages. “He was a jerk. He did it to another person. She may have been blinded by her passion, but she deserves this, and seeing a new drug introduced that could help Parkinson’s patients would be a huge advancement in the treatment and care.”
She stands, and I know I’m being dismissed. “Dr. Reinhardt, I love your enthusiasm. I know that you are good for Bella. Go find her, and help her get her cure out. Parkinson’s robbed me of the love of my life. Others shouldn’t have the same thing happen to them.”
I’m looking over the Indian food that the company has provided in the kitchen for lunch today. It’s late, and all that is left are the bare bones. I’m debating if I want the lamb masala or the chicken tikka, or maybe both. I can’t decide as they both look good. Suddenly, a scream rings out, followed by some yelling. There are about five of us in the kitchen, and we all look at each other.
We have a lot of glass windows in the office, which gives privacy of sound but not of sight. When I peek out, I’m stunned to see Dr. Johnson, and he’s waving a gun around. I whisper to the staff in the breakroom to get in the corner behind the fridge and stay put. The kitchen backs up to the elevators and has walls, so we’re hidden from view. I watch Mason approach Dr. Johnson with his hand up, distracting him.
Across the office, Emerson gathers some of the employees and pushes them out through an emergency exit door as others leave the office through the back. Cynthia is also moving our employees out on the other side of the office. She makes eye contact with me
and motions me to stay put.
I watch Dillon and Cameron approach the front desk. Dr. Johnson is almost incoherent. I pull out my cell phone and dial 9-1-1.
“What is your emergency?”
“My name is Christopher Reinhardt. I’m at SHN,” I say and give her our address. “We have a man waving a gun around in our lobby. We’ve managed to distract him enough that we’ve gotten most of the employees out of the office, but there are three of the founders talking to him. Please send the police. Also, tell Detective Lenning that it’s Dr. Vance Johnson. He was looking for him.”
Dr. Johnson is getting more agitated, and I hear him screaming for me. “I need to see Christopher Reinhardt,” he bellows. After handing the phone to one of the employees to stay on the line with the emergency operator, I walk out.
“Vance, are you looking for me? How can I help you?” I attempt to look him in the eye as I approach.
Cameron and Dillon block me from his view. I hate to tell them that a bullet will rip right through them.
Emerson grabs the receptionist by the hand and pulls her out while Cynthia empties the kitchen of the few people I left behind, leaving just the four of us to manage him.
Mason talks in a low, calming voice, keeping his hands in the air as he tries to talk Dr. Johnson into putting his gun down and having a discussion with all four of us. “But you can’t do that with a gun in your hand,” he explains.
“I demand to speak to Christopher Reinhardt. Alone,” he yells even louder as he pulls the hammer back on the gun, his finger on the trigger.
I can’t live with the idea that Mason, Cameron, and Dillon could be hurt because of me.
“Dr. Johnson, I’m right here. What is it that you need? Is everything okay?” I try to push forward, but Cameron and Dillon are a wall of shoulders, each over 6’3” and won’t get out of my way so our view of each other is obstructed.
Longing (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #7): A Billionaire Romance Page 16
