Crash - Part Four

by Miranda Dawson

“So, we could make it public?” I asked. That was the most important bit. PharmaTech could pay any fine the court threw at them, but if this became public knowledge, then they would have a whole other problem. Their reputation would be ruined, and there would probably be official investigations for them to contend with.

  “Oh, yes,” Bethany confirmed. “These two employees—and probably many others—are going to jail for a long time for the parts they played in all this.”

  “Who was the other person?” John asked. “We know the CEO—unfortunately—but who else is involved?”

  “The other person was a bit lower down the food chain,” Bethany said. “She was the one who committed most of the offenses against you. I don’t think she did any of the bribery stuff herself, but she admitted to knowing about it. I can’t remember her name—hang on.” Bethany rooted through all the paperwork until she came across the piece she was looking for. “Here it is. Miss Kerry Woodson.”

  “Kerry,” I remarked, turning to John.

  “Shit,” John muttered.

  We hadn’t given a second thought to what would happen to her in all this. Had she known all along what price she might have to pay to catch those responsible for her sister’s death? Either way, she was now looking at a hefty prison sentence for something she didn’t even do.

  Chapter Eleven

  John and I never wanted to lease office space. At first, that decision was made for us because we had no money. Now we could afford it, but just didn’t see the need. We both worked from home most of the time and made the occasional trip to the café when we felt the need for a change of scenery, and that had always been enough. Recently, however, I had started giving more thought to all those “office available to rent” signs I saw all over San Francisco.

  When we’d first started up the company, no one cared about whether we had an office or not. In fact, it was kind of expected that startup companies would not have office space. Now, though, we were trying to portray ourselves as a serious business and not one still short on cash. The desire to look important was more pronounced than ever today, because it was my first-ever interview with a journalist.

  “Sorry about this,” I said as the journalist, Amanda, squeezed herself in to one of the last seats in the café. “It isn’t usually this busy at this time of day.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Amanda said. “I interview founders in places like this all the time. It’s part of the scene in this area. Besides, I’m a freelance journalist, so it’s not like I have an office myself.”

  “I’ve never done this before,” I said. “How does this work? Do I have to say ‘off the record’ when I want something to be confidential?”

  I wished John was there to provide a bit of support, but Michael had the afternoon off and they wanted to spend some time together. John had always been incredibly supportive about Carter, so I could hardly say no. Besides, as John himself was only too quick to point out, he would have been far more likely to say something stupid than me.

  “I guess, but we don’t have to be that formal about it. I plan to show you the article before I publish it, so you can always let me know if you’re not comfortable with something in there. I’m not trying to catch you out—your business sounds like one I can get behind, so I’m just hoping to get you a bit of extra publicity.”

  I slumped back in my seat and relaxed a bit. I tried not to take her comments completely at face value, even though they did seem sincere. She would hardly be the first journalist to lie in order to get a good story, but that was probably being arrogant. Few people had even heard of us at this point, so a scandal involving LimbAnalytics would hardly make the front page. A scandal about PharmaTech, on the other hand…

  “I take it this interview is all about our lawsuit against PharmaTech?” I asked.

  “That was certainly what brought you to my attention, yes. I will need to include details about that in my story, otherwise no one will want to publish it. But, like I said, I’m hoping to bring some good publicity to your business.”

  “What do you want to know? I’m afraid there might not be a lot I can tell you. My lawyer has told me only to talk about what is already public record, and I expect you have seen that.”

  “I thought you might say that,” Amanda said with a knowing smile. “And yes, I have read the claim you filed against PharmaTech. It’s… interesting, to say the least. I understand that you cannot give me any new information or facts, but can you perhaps clarify the legal procedure that is underway. I have no legal background or experience writing about it, and quite frankly, I’m sure I will make a complete mess out of it.”

  “Well, as you can see from the complaint, we’ve made a number of allegations against PharmaTech. Most of the legal issues relate to one simple set of facts: PharmaTech used an employee to get information on our business under the pretense of working with an investor. As you can imagine, we had no qualms about telling the investor our plans and updating them on our next steps. Sometimes we did this because we needed additional cash to put the plan in motion, but other times it was just because we felt obliged to keep them in the loop. Plus, John and I are inexperienced at all this, and it was good to get a second opinion on things.”

  “So, everything you said to the investor went straight back to PharmaTech?”

  I nodded.

  “Wow. I don’t consider myself to be naïve, but I never would have thought a huge company like PharmaTech would stoop to those levels. They must be really interested in what your business is doing. They do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I guess they do. And we are flattered, but I don’t think that excuse will wash with the judge. At least, I hope not.”

  “I checked the court records yesterday and saw that PharmaTech responded by denying the allegations. It has even accused your company of doing something similar. How do you respond to that?”

  Bethany had given me a rehearsed answer to use to this exact question. “We expected them to deny the claims, but we are confident that we have enough evidence already—even before commencing discovery—to prove the truth of our claims. We were disappointed, but not at all surprised, to see that PharmaTech brought counterclaims. Of course, we will be denying all those allegations, and they have no evidence to support such claims.”

  Amanda couldn’t help but laugh. “Excellent response.”

  “Did I do okay?”

  “You were perfect. Anyone would think you had rehearsed the answer. Seriously, though—thank you. This is all great stuff. I’m surprised no one else has picked up on this lawsuit.”

  “Apparently, big companies like that—especially pharmaceutical companies—get sued over time. Most of the suits are just people trying their luck, so I suppose it’s tough to weed out the good ones.”

  “I can believe that,” Amanda said. “I only looked twice at this one, because I recognized the name of your company.”

  “You did? I thought we were still flying under the radar.”

  “Maybe, but I take an interest in any tech startups that are trying to make the world a better place, as opposed to the ones making billions from messaging apps.”

  “I wish more people did that,” I said.

  “My motivations are somewhat selfish, if I’m honest. My mom suffers from reduced mobility, and it might be hereditary. I’m hoping a company like yours will come up with a solution before it hits me.”

  “I can hardly criticize you for being selfish,” I said, pulling up my pant leg and gesturing to my artificial limb. “I’m using my own company for personal gain.”

  She smiled and nodded. “True, although I recommend you don’t word it quite like that if you end up in the courtroom.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have my lawyer come up with something.”

  Amanda turned off her recorder and we chatted about other startups. She spilled some juicy gossip on some founders that I knew. The information was all technically public, but in man
y cases it had been well hidden by expensive lawyers threatening to sue any newspaper who published it. Amanda herself had a few great stories she’d had to squash for that very reason.

  She left once she had finished her coffee and promised me a copy of the article within a few days. I messaged John and pretended that the whole thing had been a huge ordeal and very stressful—that way, he would feel like he owed me one. He didn’t respond immediately as he usually did, so I took that as a sign that his date was going well.

  His date with Michael made me realize that I hadn’t gone out for a proper date with Carter in a while. I sent him a message and told him to meet me by Pier 40 tonight. I was going to take Carter on a date he would never forget.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carter popped up in front of me as I waited near the pier. He’d been hidden among a throng of baseball fans making their way to the stadium, so I hadn’t seen him approach. I’d warned him that we would be outside all evening, but had neglected to mention that he could dress casual. His sweater and pants would have let him fit in at any exclusive golf club, but he was going to stand out like a sore thumb at a baseball game dressed like that.

  “Where are we eating?” he asked, planting a kiss that sent warmth shooting through my cold cheeks.

  “Over there,” I answered, pointing to the stadium. “The food isn’t up to snuff, I’m afraid, but the entertainment is good.”

  “Baseball?” he asked incredulously. “Are you taking me to watch a baseball game?”

  “Yes. It’s the Giants versus the Dodgers, so it’s a big one and the tickets were not easy to come by.” Not for cheap, anyway. “I know you think it’s a boring sport, but I’m going to try and convince you otherwise.”

  “All right, but you realize what this means? When you come to England with me, you have to go watch a game of cricket.”

  “Don’t cricket games last five days, or something stupid like that?” I asked. At least I was only putting him through a few hours of torture.

  “The good ones do, yes.”

  I rolled my eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the stadium. “Come on. We need to get a move on. I want to buy you a hoodie and cap to put on—you can’t sit in the bleachers dressed like that.”

  “I can go with the hoodie, but there’s no way you’re getting me in a baseball cap.”

  “Scared of messing up your hair?” I asked, quickly ruffling my fingers through it in a fruitless attempt to dishevel him.

  “I just can’t stand baseball caps. I’ve never really understood the point of them.”

  I looked up at the sun that was still about an hour away from going below the level of the stadium. Carter would soon want a cap when we were sat facing the sunset and he couldn’t see the game, but I’d let him find that out for himself.

  There was a long line to get past security. I could have sworn that when I first started going to baseball games with my brother, there had been no security to walk past when you came in. Now you had to have your bag checked and go through a metal detector.

  “Do people actually try to bring guns into the stadium?” Carter asked. “I assume that’s what the metal detectors are for.”

  “Welcome to America, dear,” I said before setting off the metal detector. I always showed my leg to security before walking through, but that made no difference. They still had to scan my entire body, just in case.

  “I felt safer in prison,” Carter remarked as they finally waved us through.

  We went straight to one of the overpriced gift stores and bought Carter a hoodie, which he wore instead of his sweater, and a cap, which he left in the bag. We made it to our seats after missing the Dodgers’ first two hitters, but they hadn’t scored or got any men on the bases.

  “I’m going to go grab some drinks,” Carter said. “I’ve a feeling I’m going to need some libations to get me through this.”

  Most fans hadn’t got settled into their seats yet, but even with all the commotion, I caught a few people look twice at Carter. Whether that was because of his insanely good looks or his English accent, I couldn’t tell. It was probably a combination of the two.

  He didn’t return until the second inning, but he still hadn’t missed anything of note. The Giants got the first hitter on base, but then the next three struck out in quick succession.

  “This beer had better be damned good,” he said, handing me a plastic cup. “I’ve never paid so much for beer in my life. I’ve bought rounds of drinks in London for less.”

  “Good thing you’re a millionaire, then, huh?” I whispered, not wanting to broadcast his wealth to everyone around us.

  “I might not be if I have to buy many more of those beers.”

  “Oh, hush up. Let me explain the rules to you.”

  I talked Carter through the basic objective—score more than the other team—and how to score runs. After just a couple of minutes he seemed utterly confused, but to his credit, baseball was a tricky concept to explain to a newbie. I remembered that when William had first started teaching me, it’d seemed like the game was based entirely on statistics, which wasn’t exactly how I enjoyed spending my spare time. It had taken months of the games playing on the TV in the background before I had finally started picking it up enough to enjoy it.

  “Okay, so why did the bowler just throw it to the guy on first base?” Carter asked.

  “Pitcher. The guy throwing the ball is the pitcher, and he did that to stop the guy on first base running to second.”

  A girl in front of us glanced at Carter. She thought she was being subtle by pretending to look at something in the distance, but it was obvious where she was looking. The girl nudged her friend, and even though I couldn’t hear them or see their faces, I had a pretty good idea of what they were saying. The constant attention women showed Carter was equal parts infuriating and flattering. As much as I hated it, I couldn’t help but feel pleased to be the one girl he loved.

  “Is the batter out if the wicket-keeper catches the ball?” Carter continued. If he was embarrassed at asking all these questions, then he did a good job of hiding it.

  “What the hell is a wicket-keeper?” I asked him.

  “The guy behind the batter.”

  “Oh you mean the catcher. No, that’s not a way to get them out. Well, sometimes. I’m actually not sure how that works…”

  The loud clunk of ball on bat reverberated around the stadium. I missed the hit, but my head snapped back to the field where I saw the ball fly into the stands for a Giants home run.

  “Wow, finally, someone hit it for six,” Carter said, using another term that was completely unfamiliar with me.

  “Carter, that’s a home—”

  “—run. Yes, I know, I’m just playing with you now.”

  After the home run, the game went back to being rather dull, so I took the opportunity to teach Carter a few more of the common terms that were being thrown around by the crowd.

  “That’s called a ‘backdoor slider,’ ” I said after a Giants’ pitcher threw a ball that curved into the strike zone.

  “It’s called a what?” Carter replied with a smirk.

  “A backdoor slider. Why are you laughing?”

  “Just sounds like a euphemism for something else, that’s all. Do you like backdoor sliders?”

  I had a feeling I knew what he was referring to, but had no idea whether I liked it or not. “Stop being rude.”

  Carter wouldn’t admit it, but he had changed a lot since opening up about working with Kerry against PharmaTech. All those secrets he had been keeping from me must have weighed him down, and now he was finally able to be himself around me. The real Carter was fun and a lot less moody than the one that kept secrets. He no longer carried that air of mystery around with him—in some ways, mystery was exciting, but after a while I craved this kind of openness and honesty from him. That was what long-term relationships were made of.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Ready to hear another settleme
nt offer?” John asked.

  “After the insultingly low offer they came up with last time, I’m tempted to just ignore it,” I answered.

  PharmaTech’s lawyers had contacted ours soon after the case was filed and offered us $300,000 to settle. Our lawyers were obliged to ask us whether we wanted to accept it, but it didn’t take long for John and I to make up our minds on that. We hadn’t come up with a number that would be acceptable yet. To be honest, the money was far from our only priority at this stage. In addition, we also wanted to see the people involved get punished, issue a public apology, and institute a withdrawal of the faulty drug from the market. Our problems with PharmaTech went way beyond what they did to our business, and any settlement offer would need to reflect that.

  “I certainly don’t think we need to go down to Bethany’s office this time. I am not going all that way again just to leave five minutes later. Let’s just give her a call.”

  John called Bethany and put her on speaker.

  “Hi, John,” she said as she answered the phone. “Thanks for calling. I assume Emily is there with you?”

  “Hi, Bethany,” I said. “I’m here.”

  “Good. I’m glad you both called—I think you’re going to like what I have to say. As you know, PharmaTech has come up with another offer. I was expecting them to try to lowball us again, but in the last couple of weeks, they have conducted an independent and internal investigation into some of the facts we alleged in our complaint. I’m guessing they found some interesting stuff, because this offer is many multiples of the last one.”

  John and I shared a look. Was this going to be the big moment? Bethany, Scott, and Carter had all been telling us that our lives may change soon, but John and I never took that too seriously. It was like how when you bought lottery tickets you knew you could win, but you never really expected to. Now I felt like we had all six of the main numbers and we were just waiting to hear the Powerball number. We still hadn’t won, but our chances were a lot better than usual.