21 JANUARY
Christ, she looks shit, thought Cindy as she handed Anna another tissue in the restroom at Dynamic Communications.
‘I’m devastated,’ said Anna, her mascara streaking down her cheeks. ‘Just outta the blue. Said we’re too busy. Let’s go our separate ways.’
‘Don’t worry, hun. Everything happens for a reason.’ And I’m the reason.
‘But it felt so right,’ Anna sobbed. ‘I think I overplayed the hard to get part.’
‘Well, whatever you do, don’t go chasing after him now. Give it some space, see if he misses you enough to come back.’
Anna blew her nose. ‘I guess so,’ she snuffled.
*
That evening Wyse got a text.
Hey John, wow that was some night! Hope you’re feeling better.
You wanna hook up this week? Cindy x
He replied.
Hey Cindy. Thanks for looking after me. Hope you’re doing good. I’m gonna hibernate for a while and get over all this. John
Sure, I understand. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you ever need any more Healing. lol. X
Cindy hit send. He’ll be back. They always are.
*
9 FEBRUARY
It is extraordinary how readily the most bitter of enemies can get around to cooperating, once they have a common purpose.
Richard Allen, senior vice president, sales and marketing at Dupitol Pharma, was worried. He had no doubt whatsoever that his old college buddy, Bob Denman, had given him his honest appraisal of the situation in New York. But something didn’t sit easily with him. He had poked around a bit and spoken to some of his contemporaries at the other drug companies. They had all noticed the heavy advertising spend by Yamoura and had seen their own cephalosporin sales evaporate. No one was too sure what was going on, but, because it was just one city, and just one product, at the low margin end of the business, the other companies seemed content to sit it out. What everyone was surprised at was that Yamoura were pushing new benefits for an old drug.
‘I’m surprised the FDA aren’t on it yet,’ said Roger Flack at Xantlox Webber, in another ‘off the record’ call.
‘Maybe they are,’ said Richard Allen.
‘Don’t think so, Rich, woulda got out by now. Any event, it’s not our job to do the FDA’s work. And the last thing we need is Yamoura objecting to our own advertising. That would ruin the game for everyone.’
Richard Allen still felt uneasy. He felt even more uneasy when his marketing consultants in New York called him back.
‘Hey, Richard, Paul Schander at Big Spark.’
‘Hi, Paul, any news?’
‘Well, I’ve been making some enquiries. Naturally, we’ve seen the SuperVerve campaign. Pretty routine work by Dynamic Communications. Very big spend so far, and word is that it’s producing the goods.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘You betcha, Richard, but you may not like this bit. Girl working here with us is good friends with a girl from Dynamic, who’s involved in the campaign. I asked her to see if she could find out a little more. Word from there is that they can hardly sleep they’re so excited about this launch. Inside track is that New York is just a pilot campaign and that they’re gonna be rolling it out across North America.’
‘Just for SuperVerve?’
‘Don’t know about that, but Dynamic are pulling every marketing lever as far as they can. And that means pushing advertising, celebrity endorsements, medical endorsements, doctors’ incentives and pushing the FDA to the limit.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘I’ll let you know if I hear any more, Richard. And don’t forget we’re here, as soon as you need us.’
‘Yeah, no problem, Paul, and thanks for the feedback.’
Richard Allen sat quietly looking out his window at the Atlanta skyline. This was getting too big to ignore. His experience told him that it was the little things left unmanaged that caused the big trouble down the road. His gut told him that something was up. Yamoura were on a free run in New York. It was time to give them something to worry about.
*
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Tsan Yohoto smiled. The al-Qaeda sleeper in New York certainly had a sense of humour. He was reading from a glossy four-page tourist leaflet that had arrived in his mail that morning. Tsan had instantly recognised the plain brown A4 envelope with the New York postmark. Every few weeks he received some brochure or other in a similar envelope. The first brochure had been an old one for the Windows on the World restaurant, on the top two floors of the WTC’s North tower. The second had been an information leaflet on the Pentagon.
He opened the centre page of the leaflet and smiled again when he saw the blob of sauce, about midway up a photograph of the Empire State. He scooped the blob into a plastic container and buzzed his PA to send it down to one of the Yamoura laboratories for analysis. The result would be back the next day. As usual, he expected that it would include ‘egg whites, cream, salt, milk, preservatives, colouring. And cephalosporin . . .’
*
MANHATTAN – 21 FEBRUARY
Anna Milani had had the most miserable month of her life, certainly since her brother died. She threw herself even more energetically into her work, to distract herself, but she still couldn’t help checking her phone every few hours to see if there was a message from John. As the weeks went by, she found herself thinking about him more, not less. She found herself thinking back over all their dates, all those great conversations and all the fun. It had felt so right. He was different. How could she hope to ever meet another man like that?
The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that playing so ‘hard to get’ had been a huge mistake. She knew where Cindy was coming from, and she was way more experienced than her, but John was too genuine. He was big and strong, but he was vulnerable too. He wasn’t the type of guy you had to play games with. Time to take action.
*
22 FEBRUARY
Wyse noticed someone leaning against a car as he approached his apartment block. About fifty yards away, he realised it was Anna. Whoa, what’s this about?
‘Hey, John,’ she said, standing straight as he got to her.
‘Hey, Anna, are you okay? Didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘I was waiting for you.’
‘Oh? What’s up?’
Cards on the table. ‘I’ve been missing you. Badly. Can we go somewhere and talk?’
‘Eh, sure. Fancy a glass of wine?’ Seeing her again had shaken him. His heart was fluttering. Keep your wits about you, John. She looks amazing. She’s lost weight, though.
‘C’mon,’ she said as she linked his arm and led him towards the wine bar at the end of Eldridge.
*
It didn’t take long to reconnect. Perhaps ten minutes. Sitting at the corner table, she got straight to it.
‘John, I am so sorry. I have never missed anyone so much in my life. I messed you around. I was playing hard to get because I really wanted you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I overdid it. I know I was always buried in work and not around enough, but that’s eased a bit and I’ll balance it better this time. I’ve never met anyone like you before. Will you give us another chance?’
Wyse hesitated. ‘But I heard you were seeing someone else?’
‘What?’
‘That’s what I heard.’
‘Who from?’
‘Just kinda picked it up on the grapevine.’
Anna took his hand and looked him in the eye. ‘John, I promise you, on my parents’ lives, I have never seen anyone else since I met you.’
That was pretty convincing. Looking deep into her eyes, John believed her. Maybe Cindy had another agenda going. But better not mention Cindy, only gonna cause problems.
They held hands across the table and agreed to give it another go. Anna was trying hard not to cry, and Wyse felt a lump in his throat too.
*
27 FEBRUARY
Ah yes, there it is. Richard Allen took a deep breath and enjoyed the warm Californian air, as he left the arrivals hall at Palo Alto Airport. He joined the line for a cab. If there was one benefit that he still enjoyed after ten years with Dupitol, it was the winter sales trips to California and Florida. As most of the continent started to shiver, he would make sure to get in a couple of games of golf, in perfect weather. It used to be blood pressure treatments and depression that kept the tills ringing at Dupitol. Those sales were still great, but Dupitol and several others in the pharma-industry had hit pay dirt by flooding the country with the highly addictive, opioid pain relief medication. The doctors were doing their bit by throwing prescriptions around like confetti. With a hundred people a day dying from overdoses, the Drug Enforcement Administration was calling it an epidemic, and the legal class-actions were piling up. But the profits were so enormous that Dupitol would be well able to pay any damages or fines – in the unlikely event that anyone could prove any wrongdoing.
At the sales meeting that afternoon, Richard scanned the latest printout of regional drug sales. Hmmm, there it was. Way down the list in terms of profitability, but Dupitol’s sales of Clafox, its branded cephalosporin product, were rock solid at 32% market share in California. Makes this New York thing hard to take.
He glanced at his watch. He was meeting Damian Nowoski at five.
*
The call to the Palo Alto headquarters of WordOutWorld had been unusual from the word go.
‘Hey, Damian, how are ye? Rich Allen here at Dupitol Pharma.’
‘Oh, hello, Rich, there’s a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Hey, Damian, you know, our organisations have been kickin’ the hell outta each other for long enough.’
‘That’s for sure.’
‘And I’ve been thinkin,’ you know, we’re all only here on this planet for so long. We may disagree on a whole lotta stuff, but I don’t see why we can’t get along better on a personal basis.’
‘I see,’ said a bemused Damian Nowoski. Damian Nowoski was twenty-eight years old, with an IQ as bright as his piercing blue eyes. He had worked with WordOutWorld since he had graduated. WordOutWorld was a fiercely independent organisation, dedicated to protecting the principles of free speech, consumer rights and the environment. Staffed by a team of lowly paid but dedicated individuals, WordOutWorld was a major thorn in the side of industry and politics, whenever they saw abuses of power and privilege.
‘You know, Damian,’ continued Richard Allen, ‘we know each other’s names so well, yet we’ve never met and I’d like to change that.’
‘Sure,’ said Damian, a little hesitant. ‘Sounds okay to me.’
‘I’m in your area next week, Damian. Would it be convenient to meet up?’
‘Sure, no problem. Why don’t you drop into the office?’
‘Well, I’d prefer to keep it casual, Damian, you know, off the radar. How ’bout a beer after work one evening, say Wednesday at five at The Bleachers?’
‘Yeah, sounds fine to me.’
‘Okay, Damian, nice talkin’ to you – see you Wednesday.’
‘Sure thing, Richard, see ya.’
Damian Nowoski let out a long, low whistle. Something’s up, Damian boy, something’s up.
*
Richard Allen wrapped up the sales meeting with the usual stuff about ‘achieving new goals’, ‘living the values of the Dupitol family’, and ‘turning challenges into opportunities’. In the back of the cab he took off his tie and folded it into his jacket pocket on the seat beside him. He had been on a course once where he had learned that he should dress like the person he was meeting, in order to ease the connection. He had seen photos of Damian Nowoski and he was damn sure he wouldn’t be wearing a tie. A minute later he took off his gold cufflinks, put them in his pocket and rolled up his sleeves. He patted the bulging white envelope which was folded over in the inside pocket of his jacket.
‘Hey, Damian, nice to meet you, man – hope you haven’t been waiting too long?’
‘No, just got here,’ said Damian, returning the firm handshake. His thick curls were even longer than Richard Allen had expected, and he hadn’t shaved for two or three days. He was wearing a Nirvana T-shirt, beach shorts and a pair of sandals.
‘What’ll it be, Damian?’ said Richard Allen. ‘I could murder a beer.’
‘Yeah, Bud’s good for me, man.’
‘Two Buds it is then,’ said Richard, waving to the barman. Better have the same drink too. ‘Why don’t we take that table over in the corner?’
After three Buds each, things hadn’t exactly loosened up a whole lot. Damian Nowoski was getting a little bored. When will this guy get to the point? The waiter plonked two more bottles of cold beer on to the table in front of them. Just in time, Richard Allen stopped himself asking for a glass. After another few minutes of complimenting WordOutWorld, Richard Allen made a round trip the men’s room, squeezed his long legs back under the table and decided to make his move.
‘Damian, can we, like, go off the record here?’
‘Sure, man.’
‘You know, Damian, we’ve had our disagreements over the years. And I don’t think we’re ever going to agree on a lotta stuff.’
‘I expect not,’ said Damian, sensing they were nearing the action.
‘And this whole area of advertising prescription drugs. I believe it’s a fundamental principle of free speech and unrestricted access to information that’s at stake. I truly believe that the American people are entitled to as much information as possible about how our industry can improve their lives . . .’
‘Yeah, tell that to all the people who took Tranztok for their arthritis. To the ten thousand who are suing.’ Damian sat up straight in his chair as he became more animated. ‘It’s abuse and illegal promotion by the drug companies and I don’t like it. We’re into disagreement territory, Rich.’
‘Damian, in fact, we’re into agreement territory.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. There’s a line in the sand that should never be crossed and, strictly between you and me, Damian, I think that line has been crossed.’
‘Go on,’ said Damian, eyebrows raised.
Richard Allen glanced around the bar. He took the envelope out of his jacket, which was hanging on the back of his chair, and slid the envelope across the table.
‘Have a look at this later, Damian.’
‘What is it?’
‘Well, in short, it’s a disgrace. And it could get out of control. You know Yamoura?’
Damian nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Well, word is they’re on a major marketing strategy. They’re going to rebrand lots of old drugs, hype up some new Mickey Mouse benefits, advertise the hell outta them and make a fortune in the process.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘Because, Damian, it’s already started. They’re running a pilot campaign in New York, promoting cephalosporin antibiotic like it was the key to eternal life. The stuff they’re saying about it is,’ he grimaced, ‘frankly unbelievable.’
There was a pause.
‘So why aren’t the FDA down on them?’
‘Ah, c’mon, Damian, you know the speed they move at. And Yamoura are clever. Because cephalosporin is as old as the hills, they didn’t need a new approval to rebrand it. The FDA can only get them on their misleading advertising. And that could take for ever.’
‘So,’ Damian said, ‘what you need is someone to start complaining loudly.’
‘Very loudly.’
‘Loud enough to force the FDA to look at it?’
‘You got it, Damian.’
‘And, for obvious reasons, Dupitol can’t be seen to be breaking up the old boys’ club.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that, but . . .’ Richard sat forward in his chair. ‘Damian, in that envelope is a copy of every advert they’ve run. There’s a USB key with the TV and radio adverts on it. And there’s copies of the promotional and back-up stuff they’ve been giving to the doctors.’
‘Who wrote that stuff?’
‘The usual, Damian. Three high-powered medics, who all happen to be on various FDA approval panels.’
‘And on Yamoura’s payroll?’
‘I couldn’t say, Damian.’ Richard winked. ‘Maybe you’d like to have a look at it with your guys, see if it’s worth asking a few questions?’
‘Yeah, okay, we’ll have a look.’
‘Cool. Call me on my cell phone if you need me,’ said Richard, handing over a card. ‘But let’s keep it low key.’