“Channing said she died recently.”
“Late April. I moved back home a year and a half ago to take care of her. This is my first road trip for work since last fall. Looks like I might be signing up for a lot more if it gets me back here to Cambridge.”
“So you don’t think she’ll return to Boston?”
“Hard to say. As much as it pains me to admit this, I don’t think she wants to. Her history with Payton is just too toxic.” Oliver probably knew that better than she did, since he and Kenny had served as Channing’s sounding board for the last two years. “She was all set to go back until Payton called and begged her not to. I have to admit, it bothers me that she lets Payton push her around like that.”
“You’re jealous?”
“Not that exactly. Call it a protective instinct. I want to wring that woman’s neck.”
“Ah, got it. So what does it mean if she stays here? For the two of you, that is.”
“I honestly don’t know, Oliver. My company has offices all over. Nothing in the UK though. We talked about both of us going somewhere new.”
“Kenny said it was an ironclad noncompete, that she might need to look into another line of work. So it’s good you’re willing to look at other places.”
Lark laughed, mostly to herself. “You’d be surprised what I’m willing to do.”
“I hear you, mate. Just like I’d do anything for the Viscount Teasely.”
“Like deer stalking?”
“You laugh. Imagine my terror the first time I went slogging out there with Lord Alanford. No one for miles and he’s carrying a bloody rifle.”
As much as she liked Oliver, he wasn’t the kind of confidante Niya had been before their friendship imploded over the Flexxene investigation. She had no one to confide her fear that the practicalities of trying to keep this relationship alive across three thousand miles of ocean would prove too difficult. It could vanish as quickly as it had appeared.
They’d wandered well away from the house to an area of the lawn that gave them a panoramic view of the property. She’d never seen a home so grand, rising like a castle against the horizon. “Can you imagine what it was like to grow up in a place like this? Horses, servants. And just look at that house. It’s like a museum.”
“Magnificent. Kenny puts on that he couldn’t give a toss but I think he’s rather impressed by it all. Mark my word, he’ll be very proud someday to be the Eighth Earl of Alanford.”
“He’s a walking contradiction,” she said, noticing that Channing and Kenny were waving from the courtyard. “There they are.”
“They haven’t killed one another. That’s a good sign. You don’t suppose they’ve struck some sort of Faustian bargain, do you?”
As they drew closer, Channing’s and Kenny’s smiles became clear. Either they’d settled the matters of Penderworth and babies, or they’d reached an amiable impasse.
“Breckham Hall is lovely, isn’t it?” Channing asked. “I thought of you the last time I was here, the day I discovered I was a pauper. You’d remarked on how important I’d have to be to live in a house with a name.”
“Our London flat doesn’t have a name,” Oliver said drolly. “Buckingham Palace was already taken.”
“I’ll be your queen, darling,” Kenny said as the two men embraced. “Channing and I have the most marvelous news.”
It would be surprising—but not shocking—if Channing had suddenly agreed to donate her eggs for their biology experiment. Their heartfelt pleas over dinner aboard the ferry had touched her deeply.
“Kenny’s offered to buy a half interest in Penderworth.”
“Forty-nine percent, actually, more than enough to cover her tax bill. Channing retains control and we split the cost of upkeep. It gives Breckham Hall access to the River Cam.”
Lark couldn’t join their celebration until she understood what it meant. Why else would Channing hold on to the manor unless she planned to stay in England? “So you’d own the house together…”
“Precisely,” Kenny said. “She gets to live there for as long as she likes. Or perhaps Ollie and I will make it our weekend home. But if she ever decides to sell—whether it’s a year from now or twenty—I can buy the remainder for a single quid.”
“It’s brilliant,” Oliver declared. “This way you both get to keep it.”
Channing was clearly pleased with the unconventional resolution. And why not? The stress of selling was nothing compared to the emotional toll of losing her family home forever. No matter what she eventually decided to do, Penderworth would be in loving hands.
Whereas Lark…she found it hard to be happy about Channing choosing her past instead of their future.
* * *
“And you’re positive the Brownings won’t come back early?” Lark asked.
Channing collected both of their bags from the boot of Lark’s car. They had Penderworth to themselves for the next three nights. “Trust me, after what happened last time, they’d park outside the gate and sleep in the car before they’d set foot in this house. They won’t be home till Wednesday.”
“Hmm…then I may not see them again before I go.”
“You really think you’ll leave that soon?”
“The shit hits the fan tomorrow. I’ve done my part. Now it’s somebody else’s mess.”
Channing left their bags by the foot of the steps and pulled Lark into the kitchen, where she put the kettle on for tea. “This PharmaStat business is going to be quite the scandal.”
“Huge…we’re talking shock waves through the whole industry.”
“Yet it’s not what’s on your mind, is it?” She took Lark into her arms and kissed her forehead. “It was hard not to notice that your usual jovial mood fell rather sharply after Kenny and I announced our deal. Were you not happy to hear it?”
Lark smiled weakly. “I’m happy for you, Channing. It has to be a relief. But it hit me all of a sudden that I’ll be going back to Boston in three days and you’re putting all the pieces into place to stay here. ”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort.”
It was only natural that Lark would be worried, Channing conceded. She’d given her nothing but riddles and ambiguities, insisting the whole mess would work itself out. Lark was right—it was up to them to make their own future.
“Kenny bought me some time is all.”
“So you won’t be living here?”
“Honestly it’s not even possible. There’s no fairy dust, remember? It costs a small fortune to run a place like this and I don’t even have a job.”
She was charmed to see Lark fetch their teacups and pour the milk, as if she’d done it all her life. The way she’d taken care of Maisie, forgiven Kenny…these were all bits that added up to what her heart was feeling. Lark clearly needed reassurance, none of which would be convincing if Channing kept hedging about where she’d work and live.
“Look, Kenny’s offer made me realize the extent of my attachment to this place. It once was my home, and Poppa’s, and it’s where my father was raised. So I’m inextricably tied to it whether I want to be or not. These last few days, ever since I talked to Leon, I’ve had this enormous sense of guilt over selling out my heritage to some total stranger in London who needs a country house to validate his status. But Kenny loves Penderworth too, possibly as much as I do. I could see him and Oliver raising a family here, a child who might slide down that banister the way we did.” Out of the side of her mouth, she added, “Or climb up into one of the chimneys to smoke weed.”
“You actually did that?”
“More than once. It was summer, of course. The ashes were cold.”
“I love how crazy you are.” Lark slid her arms around Channing’s waist and up the inside of her shirt. It wasn’t the sort of caress meant to arouse, though it was both warm and intimate. “Okay, here’s what bothers me about going home. I’m afraid of how easy it would be for us to fall apart. What if we aren’t solid enough? Right now we both want this…bu
t how are we going to feel if I’m not here, if we’re not together?”
“I can only tell you how I’m going to feel, Lark. I’m going to miss you, I’m going to text you every five minutes like I do now, I’m going to wait for your call. And all the rest of the time, I’m going to get things done. I’ve got the Brownings, Penderworth, there’s the whole rest of the estate to settle, the books and papers. And then…” She kissed her brow again, smoothing her feather-soft hair. “And then I’ll come to you. In Boston. And we’ll figure it out from there.”
Lark raised her head, revealing a surprised smile. “You’ll come?”
“I will, in a few weeks. Perhaps this business with Albright will be settled by then. In the meantime, I might give Payton a call, try to calm her worries. No one could possibly suspect something between us if I’m dancing around in love with someone else.”
“In love.” Unmistakably a statement, not a question.
“Yes, in love…and you?”
The arms around her waist tightened forcefully. Suddenly she was lifted off the floor and briefly twirled around. “Yes!”
Channing laughed as she staggered to regain her balance. “I say we forget the tea. Let’s go upstairs and make the most of our time in my fancy bed.”
Chapter Nineteen
The text came through at eight thirty a.m., just as Lark saw the limo pull into the parking circle by the fountain. Just arrived at PharmaStat. Meet in lobby?
From her vantage point on the fourth floor, she observed that Mike Dobbins had a bald spot. His hurried step to keep up with the tall, athletic Dr. Cooke was almost comical. Lark didn’t recognize the third person but knew from their recent flurry of emails that he was Barry Sutton from Gipson’s legal department. Things were about to get real.
Jermaine Martin stepped off the elevator as she was getting on. “You look very sharp today, Dr. Latimer,” he said, nodding his approval at her blue suit, its sleeves pushed to her elbows. “I believe the American expression is ‘loaded for bear.’”
By now the whole building knew something serious was afoot, as the rumors had proven impossible to contain in such an insular environment. PharmaStat’s CEO had flown in from Geneva with a handful of corporate attorneys, and security had cordoned off several primo parking spaces for board members who were scheduled to arrive at eleven.
In the lobby, Dr. Cooke was first to greet her, transferring a briefcase to her left hand and extending the other. “Dr. Latimer, nice to see you. You’ve done excellent work here.”
“Thank you. And please call me Lark.”
“Kirsten.” Blond and blue-eyed, she was the picture of authority in a loose-fitting tan pantsuit, its organic fabric still flawless after the overnight flight from Boston. “The others?”
“Already in the conference room having tea.” She greeted Dobbins and Sutton in the elevator, noticing their suits hadn’t traveled as neatly.
“Very well. Gentlemen, please go and make introductions, see if you can get everyone loosened up. Remember our goal here—de-escalate the situation and find a solution. It’ll work in our favor not to have them on the defensive more than necessary. Lark, I’d like a word in private if you don’t mind.”
When Lark closed her office door, Kirsten sank into a chair and rubbed her face briskly with both hands. “I’ve been up all night looking at contracts, trying to figure out the best way to leverage this to get what we want. Before I go in there, I need to ask one more time how certain you are.”
“I’m certain of the evidence, Kirsten. What conclusions we draw…those are above my pay grade.”
Armed with findings from the blood work, Lark had abandoned her step-by-step verification process in favor of working backward from what they knew. There was no more room for doubt or tiptoeing around the obvious. Someone had tampered with the trial packets, replacing the intended treatment with a high-dose nicotine patch, the sort usually prescribed for heavy smokers trying to quit cold turkey. For patients not accustomed to the effects of nicotine, the symptoms perfectly mimicked a cardiac emergency—arrhythmia, dizziness, and nausea. Practically speaking, the list of PharmaStat employees who could have pulled off such a switch included everyone with security access to the third-floor drug vault, which was at least two dozen people.
Lark had considered several possibilities. A malicious prank by a disgruntled employee. A scheme to help a group of trial subjects win a liability settlement. Or the one that worried her most—corporate espionage meant to derail Flexxene’s development so another company could seize the advantage.
With every investigative step she drew closer to the truth, until finally it was—even in the literal sense—staring her in the face.
“Let’s get in there and get this over with.”
Lark followed with her laptop, taking a seat next to Kirsten at the head of the table. Shane and Wendi had been called to the meeting and sat together at the back of the room, observers to the proceedings. The other two members of the Flexxene team, Niya and Jermaine, had seats at the conference table alongside the CEO and attorneys.
Niya sought to make eye contact and displayed a conciliatory smile. Their easy friendship hadn’t been the same since the day she’d stormed out of Lark’s office. Lark lamented that it was hard to really know someone until seeing them at their worst.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you know why we’re here. Gipson Pharmaceuticals contracted with PharmaStat to conduct a Phase II trial for Flexxene…” Dr. Cooke owned the room as she methodically summarized Gipson’s concerns regarding the execution of the trial. Reading from talking points, she laid out the case for malfeasance. “On behalf of Gipson, Dr. Lark Latimer conducted a review of protocols, and subsequently, an investigation of drug tampering. I’ll turn this over to her for her report.”
Lark began with an overview of her routine process, which included an exhaustive review of paperwork followed by interviews with subjects and clinicians, all of which had confirmed the team’s adherence to protocols. “In interviews with staff members Shane Forster and Wendi Doolan, I discovered what I considered an anomaly in procedures.” She explained in meticulous detail the differences between their handling of deliveries, and how those differences led to further inspection.
Shane burned with embarrassment as she described seeing a kiss in the parking garage that raised her suspicions. As all eyes turned his way, she exonerated him with confirmation from the IT department that his first exchange of texts and emails with the Haas-Seidel employee had occurred more than a week after the patient emergencies.
“Though I felt confident that Mr. Forster had not deliberately participated in the disruption of the trial, the coincidence remained troubling. It presented a potential opportunity for the introduction of tampering, since Wendi Doolan’s habit of inspecting individual packets was well-known throughout PharmaStat and the participating clinics.”
Wendi whispered something to Shane and shook her head to indicate her innocence.
Interrupting Lark’s presentation, Kirsten distributed results of the blood tests that confirmed evidence of tampering, along with side-by-side photos of the two patches. She said, “At this point, we were certain someone in the chain of study had substituted a fairly common nicotine patch for the treatment patch for three of our study subjects. This introduction of nicotine triggered the cardiac symptoms that resulted in breaking the blind and subsequent suspension of the trial.”
Mike Dobbins spoke up, passing around a chart he’d prepared. “Dr. Latimer’s review of medical progress reports led our team to conclude this wasn’t merely tampering, but a deliberate scheme to subvert the results of an otherwise promising trial. All three subjects who experienced these emergency symptoms had reported significant improvement in pain reduction and stiffness, the exact results Gipson hoped for from this innovative drug. The third subject however…was discovered to be in the placebo group.”
His dramatic pause allowed them to consider the implications. Such pronounced gains duri
ng a trial were rare for placebo patients, though not unheard of, especially if the patient was susceptible to the power of suggestion.
It was Lark’s turn again. “Our team concluded that whoever switched the patches had likely viewed the medical reports and assumed this placebo subject was receiving the actual drug. That led us to seek security records from IT showing who had accessed both the patient progress reports and the drug vault.” Under PharmaStat’s stringent security procedures, logins and swipes of employee badges tracked virtually every move.
There was a noticeable disturbance through the room as PharmaStat’s decision-makers absorbed the damning testimony.
“On the Friday morning prior to the first two emergencies, a login belonging to Dr. Jermaine Martin accessed medical records.”
He looked about nervously and nodded. “That’s correct. The Flexxene team met every Friday in my office for a status update. Every Friday, not just those two. You can check my login.”
“Throughout the course of the trial, treatment packets were picked up at the drug vault on Monday morning and delivered to the participating clinics. On the Monday preceding the first incidents, at seven fifteen a.m., Dr. Martin’s security badge swiped the entry to the drug vault. Approximately two hours later Shane Forster picked up those drug packets and delivered them to the clinics. Dr. Martin’s badge was used again the following Monday at seven twenty-five, after which Mr. Forster again made the delivery.”
“No, that is wrong. It cannot be.” Jermaine pounded the table and pleaded at his bosses with an anguished look. “My badge was lost. I reported it to security. They deactivated the other immediately.”
Lark had recalled his lost ID, and included it in her investigation. “Yes, I checked your report, Dr. Martin. According to records, your security badge was in continuous use during the week between those two visits to the drug vault. It was reported lost on the day of the second visit.”
A Proper Cuppa Tea Page 20
