Shadow of Eden (21 page)

In what he knew was a futile effort, he went to the file cabinet in the garage that held only old family bills and cancelled checks. Still nothing. It was a replay of today’s search at his office, except that he had found two folders which been misfiled and lots of empty spaces where they had been. That was it—just two out of dozens.
How?
Back in his study, he sat down to carefully think things through. He knew he had seen the folders only three days ago, but where had they gone? He knew neither his secretary, nor his wife would have dared moved them.

A chill ran up his spine. Somebody must have gone through his files at his house just like they had at work—somebody who was worried about the real story getting out.
Morloch!
It had to be him.

It all began to add up. Morloch had pushed them to forge the animal data, hide the incriminating study reports and sign off on the FDA filings. He had stood to gain the most, but . . . now Paul saw it all. Morloch himself had never signed any of the falsified documents. Morloch was busy covering Trident’s tracks.

Who else knew this was happening? Oscar? Paul began to breathe faster. What could he do? The two studies he had were still plenty to cook Trident’s goose, but he had nothing on Morloch. It would be his word against Morloch’s and Morloch had a clean record. As a businessman and not a doctor, he would claim no knowledge or understanding of the doctored reports. He would say his senior staff acted on their own to make themselves rich by getting Eden on the market.

Did they know what he was planning to do or was this coincidental? Maybe Morloch was getting paranoid and just had some agent type clean up his and the others’ files to eliminate all the evidence. Had they broken into his house? The thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Wait. What was he thinking—people stealing stuff right out of his house? How paranoid!

He then thought about what he was doing and realized how high the stakes were. Frankly, if that was Morloch’s concern, he should have done it sooner. But even if the files were just misplaced, he decided not to take chances.

He pulled the file with the mouse and gerbil reports out of his briefcase and went over to his fax machine. He pulled out his smartphone and looked up his new attorney’s fax number. He would fax the report to them tonight and call them in the morning and tell them it was important evidence and to hold it until his first appointment. That would get it into a place it where couldn’t be stolen.

Paul pulled the staples out of the reports and inserted the first twenty pages in the fax machine. He punched in the fax number and checked to make sure he had gotten it right and hit the send button. A scrape at the door startled him. He looked up, expecting it to be Mary. “Jesus!”

Standing in the doorway was a man with icy blue eyes dressed in a black stretch jumpsuit holding a pistol.

“Who the hell are you?” Paul’s chest hammered.

“Nobody to be trifled with.” A small smile played on the man’s lips.

“You’re the one who took all my files,” Paul accused, terrified this man would hurt Mary or his sons.

The man shrugged casually as he walked in and hit the stop button on the fax machine and pulled the papers out of the machine. Tobias saw that only three pages had gone through, not nearly enough.

Picking up the folder lying next to the fax, the man said, “I couldn’t locate this one so I waited for you to find it for me.”

“What are you going to do with those?”

“It doesn’t matter to you anymore.”

Paul’s stomach fell as the meaning sunk home. “My wife?”

“Is sleeping and if she stays sleeping, we’ll leave her alone. Just come with us.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t I leave a note?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry. And keep quiet. You don’t want to wake anybody.”

Paul’s heart broke. He wasn’t afraid to die, not now, he just couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to tell Mary, Sam, and Ronnie how much he loved them. He nodded. Shoulders slumped as he wept quietly. He followed the man in black out of the study and through his garage door into the dark night, praying that his family would understand.

Chapter 44

O
scar Perera walked into the Trident boardroom and sat down at the polished table next to Sharod Houssan, Trident’s Chief of International Operations. He looked around at the senior executives occupying the other chairs. “What’s up, Sharod?” It was the first time he had been called into a meeting like this without knowing in advance what it was about.

“I don’t know. I just got a call from Karen to be here by eight-ten.”

Perera had gotten the same call on the way in, and had scrambled to get his cup of coffee and plug in his laptop before he had to be here. He glanced at his watch. It was exactly eight-fifteen.

Morloch, wearing a grave expression and a dark suit, walked in and stood at the head of the table. “I am saddened and grieved to announce that Paul Tobias is dead.”

There was a murmur around the table before Morloch continued.

“He was found at four o’clock this morning in his car at a convenience store. It looked like he either had a heart attack or a sudden stroke. I don’t know which, but if it makes any difference, it looks like it was quick and even painless.” Morloch’s voice was calm, reassuring like a funeral director’s. “This, of course, is a terrific blow to our company, professionally and personally. Many of us worked with him for years and I attribute Eden’s FDA approval and Paradise’s NDA submission in large part to Paul’s hard work and dedication.”

He took a drink from a glass of water and cleared his throat. “On a personal note, Paul was a friend and confidant. He came to Trident in the early days and he was tireless in his enthusiasm and inspiration, earning my highest respect for his integrity, hard work, and infectious good humor. I will miss him.” Pausing, he lowered his head a fraction, as if saying a small silent prayer.

“I have sent my condolences to Mary, his wife, and his two children, Ronald and Samuel. Services are not scheduled yet, but you will be informed when we know. In order to continue Paul’s dreams and aspirations, I thought it only fitting that Trident establish a Paul Tobias College Scholarship Fund for the deserving underprivileged children of Philadelphia. This, of course, is pending approval from Mary, but I hope she will accede. I have pledged one hundred thousand shares of Trident stock to start it off.” Morloch paused, looking around the room. “Of course, it in no way mitigates our loss and that of his family, but perhaps it will make a difference in the world somehow. This is a terrible thing and I know it is a shock to you all. It certainly was to me. That is all I wanted to say. Thank you for coming.”

Perera’s ears burned.
Paul dead?
How? He was so young and he had those two wonderful children. Poor Mary—first her daughter and now her husband. Why did he have to die? Perera then remembered his conversation with Morloch about Paul and Paul’s doctor friend, Ari Brown.
What had really happened?

Perera watched Morloch greeting well-wishers as though he was one of the bereaved himself and he thought of the doctors who had called him to report their suspicions about Eden and a strange brain illness. Some of them, he later discovered, had died unexpectedly. Although he had no knowledge of the cause of their deaths, he had for some time nursed a growing suspicion that Morloch had played some hand in them. Perera wondered if he somehow had been complicit by not investigating further.

After excusing himself, he hurriedly went back to his office. He typed Ari Brown, MD, UCSF into Google and punched the return button. The search page popped up and Oscar quickly scanned the headings. They were all news items about a murder suicide. Selecting one, he clicked on it and scanned the article. Ari Brown was dead.

Perera’s throat constricted, as the cause of Paul’s death suddenly became terrifyingly clear. He now gained an entirely new understanding for Morloch’s repeated promise to always generously reward those who help him and Trident reach their goals.

The inverse had become transparently evident. Why had he not seen it before?

Perera was suddenly very afraid.

Chapter 45

P
resident Dixon, flanked by Clarke Elementary School principal, Donna Reeves and Paducah Mayor, Sara Buckley, strode into the jam-packed Clarke school cafeteria. Camera strobes flashed as he entered, creating a staccato pattern of brilliant lights. The women blinked, but Dixon barely noticed, striding right through the reporters. He loved getting into community settings and seeing people where they lived and worked. And schools were among his favorite places to visit.

He smiled broadly as he stepped to the lectern, standing alone at one end of the cafeteria. Press Secretary Tyrone Grune took his place at the President’s flank, ready with a spare copy of the speech and his ‘first aid kit,’ which consisted of a terry-cloth hand towel, a handkerchief, a throat lozenge, and a plastic water bottle.

Tapping on the microphone, Dixon heard his taps amplified. Leaning slightly forward, he began. “I am so happy to be here in the beautiful city of Paducah in the majestic State of Kentucky.” He paused at the delighted cheers and clapping from all the young students and teachers crowding the lunch tables in front of him. A large number of parents had squeezed into the back and stood lining the perimeter walls.

After his spontaneous car ride with Joan, Jeff Bell had suggested his making this trip instead of Vice President Sullivan. Now, as he stood in front of the students and teachers, he knew it had been a good idea. It was the first time since his joy ride he had been able to take his mind off the Chinese massacre. While it had caused a firestorm with his wife and staff, he had loved every second. The blue skies and moving freely about had made him feel closer to God—it had been worth it.

His written comments were stacked in front of him. Each page held about six sentences in large type. Glancing down, he said, “They tell me you have a state geography bee champ here.” He grinned at the crowd. “Is that right?”

More cheers and shouts. “Well, Geoff Durmond, please come up here so I can shake your hand.” Hollers and cheers followed a tubby boy as he shyly stood up in the front row and walked up to the President. Dixon formally shook the young fifth grader’s hand and then ruffled his brown hair. He smiled broadly. “Good job, son. I’m proud of you. I never won anything like this in school.”

Geoff squirmed, but his flushed look told Dixon he appreciated the praise. “Thank you, sir,” he stammered.

Holding the boy by the shoulders Dixon continued. “Geoff makes me proud, not just because he’s a winner, but because winners are willing to do what it takes to become a winner. Geoff can tell you that it took long hours and hard work to learn all the facts it took to win.” He looked down at Geoff. “About how much did you study?”

Geoff’s face flushed again. “About two hours a night with my Pa.”

“Geoff did his work, now it’s up to us adults to do ours. Geoff, as long as I am in the White House, you and your Pa can come visit anytime. You can go sit down now. I’m through embarrassing you.” Geoff, obviously relieved, almost ran for his seat.

“I know Clarke Elementary School has some of the finest teachers in the country.” He smiled at some whoops and cheers that followed. “And you are accomplishing some amazing things in education. Your test scores are 20 points above the national average on standardized tests and you’re regional Governor’s Cup champs.” He paused at the clapping. “Part of your achievement,” he continued, “comes from the association your school district has forged with Paducah Community College.”

“My administration has used your school district and others like it to fashion a national college and public school joint cooperative, what we call the APPLE program, Applied Programs for Learning Excellence.” The applause once again stopped him.

Time for the punch line, he thought, turning to the next page of his speech. “This APPLE program and its tremendous benefits will be fully funded through a bill I am sending to Congress next week.” The applause swelled, making Dixon smile. This was a natural marriage between the reach of the federal government and the innovation and energy of the local level. His headache strangely returned with a throbbing intensity that distracted him. He looked down at his notes and with relief realized he was on his last page.