Nathalie saw her cue. ‘The vaccine, before you gave it to people, did you have to try it on the virus in the laboratory first?’
‘Yes of course, first computer models and then the real virus in laboratory conditions. That’s why we have to be so careful with visitors. There’s some dangerous stuff in here.’
‘So where do you get the actual virus from?’
‘Africa mainly. There have been a number of outbreaks in recent years, patients have been sampled and the virus kept under strict confined conditions. A lot of bureaucracy to go through. Can’t afford for it to escape.’
‘So you can keep the virus alive in test tubes and bring it back here?’
‘Not quite as simple as that but, yes, our bespoke incubation containers can hold the active virus. We have special couriers and customs arrangements; very expensive.’
‘And you test your drug on the virus in this very laboratory?’
‘Viruses; there’s more than one strain and we need to know it can be effective against all of them.’ He noticed Nathalie looking at the glass cabinets. ‘Oh you needn’t worry, no Ebola virus here at the moment; all under lock and key in a very safe place. Our suits are to protect the laboratory from us rather than the other way around at the moment.’ The professor looked up at the wall clock and gestured towards the door. ‘Now, I have a meeting to go to so if you don’t mind I’ll hand you over to one of my assistants. We have a very good canteen if you want to stay for lunch.’
The so-called canteen looked like a five-star restaurant. White tablecloths, sparkling glassware and heavy cutlery. Nathalie was shown to a table by a smartly dressed waitress and informed that Professor Townes’ assistant would be with her shortly. Within minutes a young man with long blonde hair pulled out a chair from the other side of the table. To her dismay she recognised him. It was the same man that she had met in Berkeley Square a few months ago.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ No mention of the previous visit. ‘James has asked me to treat you to lunch.’ He handed her a piece of vellum paper. ‘The sole is very good’.
Nathalie took the menu and studied the young man. It wasn’t apparent whether he recognised her or not.
‘Thank you, if you recommend it I’ll have the sole.’
‘Wine?’
‘No thank you, just fizzy water if that’s okay.’
‘Two soles and fizzy water it is then,’ he said gesturing to the waitress. ‘Rob Barnes by the way, so-called assistant to the director.’
From the way he said ‘so-called’ Nathalie could tell he was unhappy with the title. ‘Well Rob I understand Professor Townes has filled you in on the reason for my visit. I wondered if you could tell me anything more about the science.’
‘The science, yes.’ Rob picked up his knife and spun it between his fingers. ‘He told you that did he? Said I could tell you about the science?’
Nathalie looked at the knife, you could cut the atmosphere with it. ‘He did mention that you had worked on the Alzheimer’s project.’
Rob gave out a spluttered laugh. ‘Worked on it? You could say that. In fact my PhD thesis started the whole thing off. Not that I got the credit for it. Oh yes, one small footnote somewhere I think.’
The bottled water arrived and Rob poured out two glasses. Nathalie was taken aback with his frankness. The last time she had met him he was this reticent young man who gave her short shrift. Now he seemed to be ready to wash his dirty linen in public. She took advantage of the opportunity.
‘So your thesis was on Alzheimer’s?’
‘Indirectly. I discovered the two chiral molecules that inhibited enzymes from stopping APP making B amyloid. It transpires that one of them reduces plaques in Alzheimer’s patients. Without my work there would be no drug.’
Nathalie didn’t have a clue what APP was but this guy was really bitter. Good material for information. ‘Did you work on the Ebola vaccine as well?’
‘No, before my time, but my drug, at least I call it my drug, and the vaccine are making Biomedivac very attractive for a takeover. Not that my few shares will make much of a difference.’
Nathalie didn’t know where this was going but she stoked the fire a little more.
‘Who’s the interested party?’
Rob looked around the canteen, they were virtually the only customers but he leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘A huge US drugs’ conglomerate, Zormax Pharmaceuticals – I expect you have heard of them – put in an offer. I’m not even consulted.’
‘The takeover. A good thing or a bad thing?’
They were interrupted by the arrival of two plates of steaming Dover sole. Rob thanked the waitress, picked up his fork and waited for Nathalie to start. Noting the etiquette she began to fillet her fish.
‘A good thing or bad thing?’ she repeated. But the interruption had spoiled the disclosure.
‘Hard to say,’ he said, putting a mouthful of sole flakes into his mouth. ‘Really good fish,’ he added changing the subject.
The telephone vibrated in her pocket. She didn’t want to take the call in front of Barnes so she put her laptop bag on the table and asked him to mind it while she excused herself.
‘The ladies are over there, first on the left in the corridor,’ said Rob, pointing to the door behind her.
‘Thanks,’ muttered Nathalie, not wanting to disillusion him.
She found the toilets, entered a cubicle and locked the door. Her phone had stopped vibrating. She checked the screen. Not a number she recognised, possibly a nuisance call. She turned off the silent key, slipped the phone back into her pocket, left the cubicle and washed her hands out of habit.
On her return she found Rob Barnes waiting for her. She sat down and replaced the napkin on her lap.
‘Oh you shouldn’t have stopped eating, it’ll get cold.’
‘Manners,’ replied Rob distantly. ‘Anyway, here’s your stuff safe and sound,’ he added pushing her bag towards her.
The rest of the meal was small talk. Nathalie probed further but he kept side-stepping the issues. Rob Barnes had obviously been provoked into this mood by a recent encounter and had finished letting off steam. The waitress cleared their plates and Nathalie turned down the offer of a dessert. She said her goodbyes and returned to the reception where she handed in her badge.
‘Don’t worry, we destroy them,’ said the young man. ‘Data protection you know.’
Nathalie didn’t know and would not have been surprised if her data had been kept on the system for all time. This was a very strange place and Rob Barnes was a very strange man. Throughout lunch she became sure that he had known that they had met before. He must have had his reasons for not bringing it up and she had no desire to remind him that she was working on a bioterrorism project so she hadn’t addressed the issue. She had just circumnavigated Biomedivac’s fountain on her way out when her new phone rang. A different ring tone than she was used to so it took some time for her to realise that it was hers.
‘Hello?’
The familiar gruff voice came from the other end. ‘About time, I thought you were coming back here for lunch.’
‘Oh Geoff.’
‘Who in the hell did you think it was?’
‘New phone, haven’t stored my numbers yet. Lunch? Yes I was invited to stay here. Very interesting visit too.’
‘Any further leads?’
‘Possibly, but more questions than answers. What I do know is that active Ebola can be transported in the right conditions, and that these guys can do that. The weird thing is I’ve just met a malcontent employee who pretends not to recognise me from an earlier encounter. He must have his reasons but right now I’m not sure what they are. I’d like Tom to do some research on a pharma company called Zormax. Maybe some answers there.’
‘No can do at the moment I’m afraid; our sorceress Stefanie applied for his Zimbabwe, Afghan and Indonesian visas the day we employed him. He is on his way to Java now.’
Nine
A l
oud ticking sound could be heard above the drone of the aircraft. It took Tom a while through his disturbed sleep to work out what it was. He was lying on his wrist watch of course. It was the first time that he had made a long-haul flight. Barcelona with his parents, and Berlin and Paris whilst at university were his most distant locations to date. Two or three hours at the most. The flight to Jakarta was more than sixteen with a stopover at Kuala Lumpur; most exotic. It had all been a bit of a whirl. Stefanie had bundled him to the airport with travel documents and a visa. There was no direct flight to Surabaya so he would have to spend the night in Jakarta and take an internal flight the next day. The next day. It was very confusing, the time difference. Yet this is what he had signed up for; film production and foreign travel. He would make the most of it. The noise of the engines changed as the aircraft made its descent. He was told that they would have a short stopover and it would be possible to get off the plane whilst it refuelled. They wouldn’t be allowed out of the airport but at least he could say he had been to Kuala Lumpur.
The landing wasn’t smooth and a few things fell from the lockers as the plane taxied towards the in-transit hall. Bing Bong and a singsong thin announcement came from the tannoy.
‘Welcome to Kuala Lumpur. In-transit time will be one hour. The penalty for smuggling drugs is death. Thank you.’
Tom had never heard a threat in such a pleasant tone before. The lilting accent sounded as if it was the overture to some sort of Asian musical. Tom emptied his pockets of his paracetamol and stuffed them into the webbed basket on the seat in front of him. He was leaving nothing to chance.
The in-transit lounge was more interesting than he had anticipated. Fascinating shops selling alien wares and a huge glass cabinet full of enormous beetles. Whether these were for sale or just for display he couldn’t make out. He purchased a digital camera with a zoom lens – it was very cheap – and after a few circuits of the hall made his way back to the plane.
Stefanie had booked him in at the POP! airport hotel in Jakarta. The plane had landed at around seven o’clock local time. Tom couldn’t get his head around this. The aircraft had taken off from Heathrow at about the same time, whether it was today, yesterday or tomorrow he couldn’t quite make out. Fortunately the hotel was just outside the airport perimeter, and it wasn’t long before he was slinging his holdall onto the lobby desk. He now understood what the exclamation mark stood for. The reception was stark white with blocks of bright lurid colours, like the set of a children’s television programme. He signed himself in on the yellow plastic counter and was shown to his room. Equally stark and lurid. Lime green bed head, bright orange door and a stainless steel semi-circular shower in the corner. He was shattered and abandoned his original plan to seek out the nightlife of Jakarta. Instead he made his way to the restaurant and picked out a harmless vegetable stew steeped in coconut. At least, unlike in a lot of Europe, vegetarian food in Asia was not hard to come by. He rolled the receipt into a straw shape, flattened it and tied it into a knot. Habit. He then realised that he should keep it for claiming expenses and slid it into his wallet. Recalling the efficient Stefanie and the bustling offices of Bagatelle he suddenly felt very lonely on this side of the world.
Nathalie had been busy. She didn’t like loose ends and, annoyed with Geoff bundling Tom off so soon without telling her, had spent much of the time on researching Zormax Pharma. Of course she had heard of them, had even worked for them on a corporate film some time ago, but she had no knowledge of the company’s recent activities or portfolio. It wasn’t difficult to find out, they were one of the world’s largest drug companies and their publicity was everywhere. Like many of the larger Pharma outfits, they were increasing their size by picking off the smaller fry; their latest acquisitions included a number of minor biotech companies researching anti-cancer drugs. Now it seemed they were on the lookout for treatments targeting the next big disease area, Alzheimer’s. If Biomedivac’s trial data were as Professor Townes claimed then they would be good for the taking. She had no idea if Zormax had anything to do with her bioterrorism trail but there was something about Rob Barnes that unsettled her. Her return trip to Zimbabwe was in a week and Tom was checking out the Indonesian lead. It was worth a punt, so she called her friend at Medical Films and set up a meeting.
‘Nathalie, lovely to see you.’ The tall girl in horn-rimmed glasses gave her an air kiss on both cheeks.
‘Great to see you too Veronica,’ said Nathalie. ‘Long-time.’
‘Absolutely. Know you’re here on business so won’t waste time with chitchat. I’ve dug out some stuff on Zormax for you, think you’ll be interested, come on through.’
Veronica led her along a brightly-lit corridor to a viewing room with a large screen at one end and an overhead projector in the ceiling.
‘Thought you might like to see this. Coincidently, we’re making a couple of videos for Zormax right now. This one – a boring talk by the CEO – speech for the troops sort of thing, and another educational film on Alzheimer’s disease. They must be launching a drug for that soon or why would they be bothered? Of course this is all highly confidential and, if any of it gets on TV, nothing to do with us.’
Nathalie had known for some time that Veronica wanted to work for Bagatelle, why else would she be so helpful. ‘Naturally, wouldn’t want you to lose such a big client. Don’t know if this leads anywhere but if it does we’ll be very discreet, and I’m sure Geoff will be very grateful,’ she added.
As Veronica had indicated the interview with the CEO was very boring. A man in a pinstriped suit giving a stilted presentation, sometimes to the camera, sometimes glancing at the unseen interviewer. Perhaps the director was too deferential to the guy to take proper retakes. However, twenty minutes in, the talk became more interesting, to Nathalie anyway. It would be Zormax policy to aggressively take over smaller biotech companies that had promise in the Alzheimer’s and antiviral areas. To do this they would need to pay the lowest share price possible. Any mechanisms in achieving this from their worldwide senior management teams would be well rewarded. The video came to an end and Veronica returned holding a large file.
‘The educational video we’re working on is still being scripted. You must remember the sort of thing from your freelance job with us.’ Veronica threw up her eyes. ‘Twenty-seventh draft!’
Nathalie did remember. Corporate films tended to go that way. The marketing managers were Steven Spielberg wannabes; if they could make a change they would.
Still that wasn’t why she was here. ‘Your client – is based in the States?’
‘The ultimate boss yes, but our immediate client is in the UK. The film will be used for both audiences.’ Veronica slapped the overfull file onto the table. ‘That’s the problem, neither party can agree on anything.’
‘You’ve had meetings here?’
‘Yes, here and the United States, every bloody week.’
Nathalie took out her phone and showed Veronica a couple of surreptitious photos she had obtained at Biomedivac. Well, they had taken her picture; why shouldn’t she take theirs.
‘Recognise either of them?’
Veronica flicked the images back and forward. She pointed to the image of Professor Townes. ‘This one no.’ She scrolled to the photo of Rob Barnes. ‘This one, yes. Saw him at Zormax’s UK head office this week, in deep conversation with some of the senior staff. Very shifty character.’
‘Very shifty indeed,’ thought Nathalie.
Surabaya, the capital of East Java was very hot in July. The sweat ran down the back of Tom’s shirt. Despite the comfortable bed, he had slept little the night before and was having strange problems with his balance due to the jetlag. He hailed a cab at the airport taxi rank and showed the driver the piece of paper that Stefanie had given him. The Sun Hotel, Sidoarjo. He was told that the journey would take about thirty minutes. It wasn’t exactly where the supposed laboratory was located but Stefanie had told him that this was the nearest decent accommodation. Sh
e had asked the hotel to provide him with a driver and a vehicle for his three-day stay. He should ask for them on his arrival. The road conditions were better than he expected and the taxi was soon speeding away from the urban sprawl into the countryside. The scenery was alien to Tom. Palm trees luxuriated between the rice fields and the twin peaks of two blue-tinged mountains loomed in the distance. He looked at his map, these were the twin volcanoes of Arjuno and Arjuna. Volcanoes? They looked pretty peaceful today. He took out his new camera and wound down the window. The driver turned around in annoyance as a rush of hot thick air swept into the cab.
‘Sorry, just taking a few photos.’ He waved his camera in case the man didn’t understand.
The driver grunted, shrugged his shoulders and turned his eyes back on to the road. Some minutes later Tom sensed the approach of another town. The shanty shacks turned to more substantial buildings and the skyline ahead indicated that they were nearing Sidoarjo. The Sun Hotel was an L-shaped five-storey building. A rising driveway ended in a concrete canopy guarding the front entrance. Tom paid the driver, who took the money with a scowl, and walked up to the lobby to check-in. There was nobody around so he rang the bell on the desk. A young man, wearing a batik shirt over a chequered sarong, appeared from a side door and held up his right hand.
‘Apa kabar,’ he said with a smile.
Tom had been reading his guidebook in the taxi. ‘Baik, baik, saga,’ he said awkwardly. ‘And before we go any further that’s all I know I’m afraid.’
‘No problem, we hope you have a good stay,’ replied the man in stuttering English. He passed Tom a piece of paper. ‘You sign this, I take your bag.’
The guy looked so frail and slender Tom wondered whether he should carry the bag himself but this seemed impolite so, after the formalities, he followed Rafi – as he called himself – into the lift and to his room on the first floor.
Drugs to Forget Page 8
