Drugs to Forget

by Martin Granger

  ‘You don’t have to understand how they do it, just give them a really good brief on what you want,’ said Oskar. ‘Too many of our clients think they’re bloody artists. What we need is what they want the audience to feel, think, or understand, and we’ll do the rest.’

  ‘That’s telling you,’ interjected Stefanie. ‘He’s just letting off steam, wouldn’t dare say that to his big advertising clients.’

  ‘You’ve known me too long Stefanie,’ said Oskar with a grin. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll look after your new prodigy. Just let me have your budget and schedule when you get one. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a lunch date to catch up with.’

  The production meeting had been set for two-thirty. Stefanie and Tom had grabbed sandwiches on the way back to the office and were now eating them in the boardroom. Between mouthfuls Tom kept nervously flicking through his notes.

  Stefanie tapped him on the arm. ‘He won’t bite you know. He may not show it but I gather he thinks you’re rather good.’

  ‘Who’s rather good?’ asked Geoff bursting into the room.

  ‘None of your business,’ replied Stefanie. ‘I thought you said two-thirty prompt. Tom and I have been waiting here for at least a quarter of an hour.’

  ‘See Tom, what I have to put up with, insubordination and mutiny. As it happens Miss Moneypenny, I’ve been waiting for Nathalie; not like her to be late. I suppose we’ll just have to start without her.

  Stefanie was used to Geoff Sykes’ faux misogyny and played along with the game. ‘Well Mr Bond, we’ve had another letter from Arts and Entertainment – in the States,’ she added for Tom’s benefit. ‘They are happy to join in with co-funding but want to have a bit more flesh around the proposal. You must admit it’s a bit sketchy at the moment. Locations in Indonesia, Zimbabwe and Afghanistan with evidence of bioterrorism. All we have at the moment is Tom’s report on a possible laboratory in Surabaya and whatever Nathalie has come up with on her Harare trip. Nothing at all on Afghanistan. Only some vague report from Reuters quoted by that guy you hired to do the first proposal.’

  Geoff sat on the edge of the table and flipped open his file. After a few moments studying the papers he came to a decision.

  ‘To be honest, I never really expected us to film in Afghanistan, too bloody dangerous. We left it in because it sounded topical at the time. It’s only a forty-five minute programme. I’m sure we can fill it with Indonesia and Zimbabwe, after all they are two huge countries. Even the Americans know that much geography.’

  Stefanie slowly shook her head. ‘I must apologise for the lack of political correctness from my employer Tom. He likes to exaggerate from time to time.’

  Geoff repositioned himself into a chair and leaned back. ‘Okay, fair enough, but I’m sure we can satisfy our benefactors with a bit of creative writing. Tom, you sound like you’re on to a good story. Where have we got with that?’

  Tom noticed that the notes in his hands were shaking so he put them down. ‘As I mentioned in my report…’

  ‘Yes yes, I’ve read it, move on.’

  ‘I think the professor’s hunch is right. I’ve gone through their results with other labs, they all think the bacteria has been synthetically manufactured. In the wrong hands it could be a lethal weapon. What I can’t prove at the moment is if the bacteria was manufactured for selling to terrorists or for testing out new drugs.’

  ‘So how do we prove which it is?’

  ‘I’ve checked the address of the laboratory in Indonesia where the infected guy came from. On Google Earth it looks like a warehouse in a small village just outside Surabaya. Doesn’t look like a top state-of-the-art research lab that a pharma company would use.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I suggest we go out there and take a look.’

  ‘Could be an expensive trip if you’re wrong.’

  ‘Yeah, but if it’s legit, we could still tell the story of how dangerous making artificial bacteria is.’

  Geoff looked at Stefanie. ‘The boy learns fast. Can you check out hotels, flights and costs et cetera. We can give it to Nathalie when she arrives, see if she wants to go.’

  Tom disguised his disappointment by changing the subject. ‘I hope you don’t mind but there’s been something that’s worrying me.’

  Geoff opened his hand, ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘If we find that this laboratory is really making biological weapons for terrorists shouldn’t we tell the police rather than just film them?’

  ‘Good point young man. It’s a dilemma that many an investigative documentary maker has. But to appease your conscience, I’ll tell you the answer. We film them first and then we tell the police.’

  ‘But…’

  Geoff held up his hand and closed it into a fist. ‘Think about it. Tell the police first.’ He uncoiled his thumb. ‘First of all, which police? The ones in the UK, the ones in Indonesia?’ He opened up his index finger. ‘Second, what evidence do we have? Film them, put them on TV – guilty as hell.’ He waved his third finger in the air triumphantly. ‘Finally, if nobody appears to be doing anything about it, we can show it to the world.’

  Tom sat there, a little bemused. ‘I suppose if you put it like that.’

  ‘I do. Now the Ebola thing. Last thing we heard from Nathalie is that she was going on an immunisation recce. Sounded like she could get a film crew into the country. Good news, always difficult doing concealed camera stuff. Crap quality and you don’t always get what you want.’

  Stefanie rose from her chair. ‘She’s over an hour late, her flight was meant to come in early this morning. If you don’t mind I’ll check with the airline, see if there’s been a delay.’

  She was saved the trouble by Nathalie appearing at the door. ‘Delay I should say so, two hours trying to clear customs.’

  ‘Ah, the prodigal returns,’ said Geoff. ‘Here take a seat, coffee?’

  Nathalie pushed her trolley bag into one corner and took the chair next to Geoff’s. ‘No thanks, people keep telling me I drink too much coffee. Sorry I’m late, where are we up to?’

  ‘No problem, you’re just on cue. Ebola. Any progress?’

  Nathalie reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a bunch of papers and her mobile phone. The phone looked like it had been hit with a sledgehammer.

  ‘Oh that,’ said Nathalie seeing the expression on their faces. ‘Dropped it from the hotel balcony. That’s why I haven’t been in touch. Didn’t think Zimbabwe landlines would be very secure and it seemed a bit crazy to waste time looking for the Gatwick payphone when I was due here. Anyway, I made these notes on the plane.’ She passed them to Stefanie. ‘Excuse the handwriting.’

  Stefanie took them resignedly. ‘I’ll tidy them up and let you see them before we send them in to the commissioners. They want an interim report,’ she added.

  ‘Bugger the report,’ exclaimed Geoff. ‘Have we got a film or haven’t we?’

  ‘Good chance,’ said Nathalie. ‘Visited the hospital in Harare, a definite Ebola case. Met with a so-called terrorist group. They’re definitely up to something. I’m pretty sure that there’s a connection there.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘They’re keen to have a sympathiser in the West who can cross borders without being noticed. Putting two and two together I think they’d like to plant some sort of biological weapon to scare people. I don’t think it’s big scale, just enough to draw attention to their cause.’

  ‘And Lloyd, is he still on board?’

  ‘Ah Lloyd,’ said Nathalie. ‘That’s another story.’

  Eight

  Nathalie cast her mind back to the terrifying scenes in the Shurugwi hut. The smoke-laden interior; Lloyd’s arms being stretched across the curved sides of an oil drum; the lifting of a machete; and the screaming tear of metal as it tore into the container creating an eerie gash in its edge. Lloyd had nearly fainted. His shout was replaced by the laughter of the three men.

  ‘That’s what we do to people who double-cross us,’ the q
uiet one had said. ‘I trust that if we share our plans, you will keep them to yourselves.’

  Nathalie had decided to spare Bagatelle the precise details. ‘Lloyd is a bit nervous at the moment, he was threatened at our meeting. You know the sort of thing – split on us and we’ll come looking for you. But I think he’ll come round.’

  Geoff took Nathalie’s notes from Stefanie and studied them.

  ‘You think we can depend on his continued support? What sort of guy is he?’

  ‘Difficult to read him. Plays his cards close to his chest. Must be living in that sort of environment. Thought-Police everywhere.’ She remembered his broad smile when she was covered in mud. ‘But underneath I think he’s okay. In it for ethical reasons, not just for the prestige of getting his stuff on TV.’

  Tom had kept quiet since Nathalie’s arrival. Nobody had introduced him and he hadn’t wanted to interrupt, but he thought that if he was meant to be a researcher on this project he ought to say something.

  ‘Um, hello I’m Tom. Started doing some research on the project whilst you were away. If they threatened you, do you think they’re suspicious in any way?’

  Nathalie turned to him and put her hands in front of her eyes. ‘Oh God, how rude of me. Sorry Tom. I heard that you had been hired.’ She stood up and walked around the table to shake his hand. ‘I was so shattered after the flight and airport fracas that I didn’t think to introduce myself. As you have probably gathered I’m Nathalie, the person who is meant to be directing this programme.’

  Tom reddened as he took Nathalie’s hand. ‘No problem. I can see your head’s in other things, don’t worry about me.’

  ‘That’s no excuse, I’m really sorry.’ Nathalie perched on the table beside him. ‘You were saying, about them being suspicious. I think that people in that position are suspicious of anyone, we’re no different. But if they really thought we were up to something I don’t think they would be prepared to be filmed.’ She turned to Geoff. ‘If it’s okay by you I’ve made an arrangement to shoot the immunisation project and use it as a cover to meet them again.’

  Geoff looked up from the notes, ‘Sounds good to me, but it looks as if you’ve got a lot on your plate. Tom here has located a suspicious laboratory in eastern Java for you to look at. Possible production of biochemical weapons. I suppose you could move on to Indonesia with the film crew after your shoot in Zimbabwe, but you wouldn’t have the chance of a recce.’

  ‘Too risky,’ replied Nathalie. ‘I don’t know enough about it yet. Also, I need to check out my own laboratory. The guys who are making this anti-Ebola vaccine I came across in the Harare hospital, I think they’re based in Slough.’ She looked at Tom. ‘Tell you what, why doesn’t Tom fly to Java on his own and see if his story holds water. If it does, and the timescale fits, I could follow along with the film crew later.’

  Geoff tidied his papers on the table top with a sharp tap and got up to return to his office. ‘Fine, that’s settled then. Nathalie checks out Slough and Tom flies to Java. Time’s short so tomorrow would be good. Stefanie could you make all the arrangements?’ He didn’t wait for the reply.

  Tom sat there mouth open. Nathalie saw his face and laughed. ‘Don’t worry, he’s always like that. I think it’s time for you and me to catch up.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I give in, I’ve only been on the wagon for two hours but it’s no use, I really do need a coffee. Why don’t we pop around the corner to Nude Espresso, and we can have a good chat without being disturbed.’

  Biomedivac House was a slick futuristic building jammed against an industrial Victorian skyline. The curved central facade was partially filled by an immaculate circular lawn and fountain. Either side, white granite paths led up to the glass rotating doors. It had not been difficult for Nathalie to get an interview. The promise of publicity on broadcast television was too much for Professor Townes and he had agreed to meet at short notice. To prepare, she had looked him up on the internet. Whiz kid professor of pharmacology at a prestigious Oxford college. Ground-breaking papers on plasmid DNA, cholinesterase inhibitors and C-type lectins. Nathalie couldn’t pretend to understand all of the science but it was obvious that this guy was very bright and a key opinion leader in his field. On more digging she discovered that a few years ago he had put all of his, and possibly a lot of the bank’s, money into Biomedivac, a company in which he was a majority shareholder. To all accounts and purposes the company was doing very well: a new anti-Ebola vaccine with glowing trial data and a drug in development for Alzheimer’s disease. Where he fitted into the Zimbabwe puzzle she had no idea, but she was here to find out.

  As she reached the entrance bearing the corporation’s logo, Nathalie realised that she had visited the company before; not at this building but at an office in Berkeley Square. That was several months ago at the beginning of the project when she was scratching around for ideas on transmittable diseases. They were most unhelpful she recalled. One mention of a film about bioterrorism and they had shut up shop. This time she had better take a different tack.

  The receptionist was polite and efficient. ‘Please fill in this form and take a seat,’ he said without a smile.

  Nathalie looked at the form. A standard but rather thorough questionnaire. Name, occupation and address, followed by a series of multiple-choice questions. Had she been in contact with any diseases recently? Had she had any operations? Did she suffer from any chronic illness? It was more like an insurance form than a visitor’s information list. She filled it in giving Bagatelle’s address and, ensuring that the answers were benign, gave it back to the receptionist.

  The young man placed the form under a scanner and entered some information on his computer. ‘Thank you Miss Thompson. Professor Townes will be with you shortly. Please make yourself comfortable.’

  ‘More like MI5 than a pharmaceutical company,’ thought Nathalie as she sat in one of the easy chairs and picked up one of today’s papers.

  She had just finished the leader column when a balding middle-aged man entered the lobby from one of the rear doors. He passed through the security gate and proffered his hand.

  ‘Good morning, Professor Townes, sorry about all the admin.’ He turned to the reception desk. ‘Philip, please give Miss Thompson her badge and let her through will you?’

  Philip reached under his desk and gave Nathalie a large plastic badge with her image printed on it. Seeing the surprise on her face Professor Townes pointed to a small camera in the corner of the lobby.

  ‘We have to keep security tight here. I assume you’d like to look at our laboratories and we have stringent conditions,’ he said as an explanation. ‘But first, come to my office and we can discuss what sort of article you’re working on.’

  Nathalie gave him the full spiel. Bagatelle was working on a proposal for BBC’s Horizon – a programme about frontier science. They had heard that Biomedivac were pioneers in biotechnology and had recent successes with antivirals. Fortunately, Townes hadn’t heard of her visit to their Berkeley Square office and immediately warmed to the idea.

  ‘Sounds good,’ he said. ‘I’ve always loved Horizon, a great science series, very balanced, not like some of the tabloid television you get nowadays. As long as we steer away from the confidential proprietary stuff, I’m sure we could help you. Would you like to take a look at the laboratories? I’ve a spare half-hour, could show you around now if you like.’

  Nathalie said that would be ideal and soon found herself wrapped from head to foot in white overalls and an astronaut-looking headset. The laboratory looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Stainless steel tanks, brightly painted aluminium walkways and glass cabinets containing vials of coloured liquids. Identical white-suited operators moved gingerly between the apparatus.

  ‘These are the fermentation tanks,’ explained Professor Townes, his voice muffled through the helmet. ‘We use biochemical engineering techniques to produce antiviral vaccines and are now working on an exciting new drug for Alzheimer’s disease.’r />
  Nathalie was desperate to interrogate him on the Ebola vaccine but decided to keep her powder dry and to appear interested in the Alzheimer’s project.

  ‘Alzheimer’s, a terrible disease. You think you have a cure?’

  ‘An absolute cure, too soon to say, but the early trials are promising. How much do you know about biochemistry?’

  ‘Wouldn’t say a lot but I have a science degree, so try me.’

  ‘You may have heard of amyloid plaques. They are lumps of protein that can gather in the brain. To cut a long story short these plaques can produce synaptic failure and memory loss. Without giving too much away I can tell you that we are working on the production of enzyme inhibitors, a pair of chiral molecules which can interfere with the substances that can short-circuit the synapses.’

  ‘And does that work? Stop the Alzheimer’s that is?’

  ‘So far so good. As I said, at the moment we are in early stage trials and only producing a small amount of the product. But if the results continue as they are we should be scaling up in our Morocco plant soon.’

  ‘Morocco?’

  ‘Yes, that’s where most of our drugs are manufactured once they have been approved.’ Professor Townes rubbed his gloved finger and thumb together. ‘Cheaper out there.’

  Even though he was clad in a suit and mask Nathalie could see that the professor was relaxing in her company. She decided to tackle the Ebola issue.

  ‘Is that where you make your vaccines?’

  ‘Yes we have a couple of products, the latest being an anti-Ebola virus vaccine. Perhaps a thing you could cover in the programme. People are always moaning that pharmaceutical companies just produce drugs for the West. Here we have a brand-new vaccine that not only protects people from the disease but assists the recovery of those already with it.’

  ‘Has it been used a lot?’

  ‘It’s been approved by the FDA and is on the market. We are collating the data now. Let’s say I’m very optimistic.’