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Ian Pennington looked down at his sleeping wife. Alana was so beautiful. He’d never understood why she’d been interested in him. Of course, all of that was history now. He scribbled a note to her on the ship’s stationery and then quietly left their stateroom.
He climbed the steps to the bar at the very top of the ship. It was empty and the view was stunning. He ordered a beer and took a moment to enjoy the panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea. The water was crystal blue and reflected like diamonds in the late afternoon sun. He turned his head when a voice behind him spoke softly.
“Hello, Ian. Thanks for coming on such short notice,” his colleague said with a thin smile.
Ian noticed the lines of stress on the face of James O’Leary. The young man was tired and distressed. “Let me get you a beer,” he said.
Ian grinned at his friend. “You’re welcome, James. I hope this is important. Alana and I are pretty much on a second honeymoon and you did interrupt my nap,” he said with a smile as he warmly shook James’s hand.
James opened his mouth to apologize, but Ian waved him off. “No, no, it’s okay. What’s up?” he asked as his green eyes studied his friend.
James O’Leary, an academic psychiatrist at the University of Maryland, offered up a tight smile “Unfortunately, nothing good. I’ve tried to reason with the head corporate henchmen, Jeff Baldridge from Blake Pharmaceutical, and to say he blew me off isn’t an exaggeration.”
Ian nodded as his stomach clenched with pain. “So, Baldridge wouldn’t listen and has nothing to offer?”
Both men were silent as the waiter served them their beer.
James chuckled; he was an attractive young man, younger than Ian was, probably in his early thirties. In addition to being a psychiatrist, he also had a PhD in neurological research. “Oh, Baldridge listened for a couple of minutes and then pretty much told me to get my head out of my ass. He assured me that Quelpro was perfectly safe. He said their research findings were impeccable, and there was no way that the drug could be responsible for any deaths or increased morbidity,” James said as his hand clutched his beer.
Ian shook his head as he picked up his beer. The chill of the glass soothed his hands, which were hot with anger. He took a swig of his beer and said, “Well, truthfully, we never expected for them to own up to the catastrophic outcomes. Was he amenable to any further research testing?”
James shook his head vigorously. “Hell, no. And that’s an understatement.” James’s face almost matched the color of his hair. “He didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. He’s standing solidly behind his company’s research and he’s not willing to listen to anything we have to tell him.”
Ian nodded. “It’s not sounding good, is it?”
“Nope.” James paused, signaled the waiter for another beer, and continued, “I know we’re right about this, Ian. Here, look at this data on my phone. It’s absolutely unrefuted and ironclad. It suggests, pretty much concludes, that the chemicals in Quelpro have killed at least seven patients that we know of, three of them at the University of Maryland.”
Ian reached for James’s iPhone and scrolled through the screens. The evidence damaged the integrity of the drug. His heart rate picked up as he reviewed the irrefutable evidence that all but guaranteed Quelpro was a bad drug. He nodded his head. “You’re right, it’s a bad drug. We need to try to talk with them again, perhaps all of us at the same time. This data is alarming,” he concluded as he handed James his phone.
James nodded, “No argument from me. If they don’t listen, I’ll take my findings to the FDA and ask them to pull the drug from the market until we can test it further for safety and efficacy.”
“Do you have the data from the original testing?”
James reached for his beer. “Yeah, I do. The statistics were manipulated to suggest the drug was safe.” He sighed and said, “Trust me, it’s not.”
“I was afraid of that,” Ian said softly. “There are other physicians here that have questions about the drug’s safety, at least among the people we know. Some who have grievous concerns about Quelpro. Perhaps we can meet with Baldridge and their head of Research and Development and persuade them to do further testing. In the meantime, the drug needs to be delisted and pulled from the market.”
James raised his eyebrows and gave Ian a short laugh. “No can do, my friend. These pharmaceutical executives don’t want to hear anything negative about anything they do. We can moan and groan until the cows come home, but we’ll get nowhere with these folks.”
Ian shook his head as the waiter handed James his second beer. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “We need to talk with Senator Bostitch, see what he suggests. At least he’s a physician and understands what we’re talking about.”
James nodded, “Yeah, he’s a good man. I was talking with Toby from NYU and he agrees the drug isn’t safe and needs further testing. We can invite him.”
“What are you planning for tomorrow? In your talk?” Ian asked. “Are you going to report the data findings you have?”
James nodded vigorously and said, “I am absolutely gonna report my research findings. And the serious implications they highlight concerning complications and safety of the drug. I told that to Baldridge and I thought he was gonna have a stroke.”
Ian nodded and picked up his beer. “Well, your research is rigorous and the statistics don’t lie.” Ian paused for a few moments and said, “You know I’ll back you, man, don’t you?”
James smiled grimly. “Thanks, Ian, but I can tell you, the going is gonna be rough. They’re gonna be more than pissed because what I reveal in my keynote speech will cost them millions of dollars, not to mention the cost of potential lawsuits against Blake.”
Ian nodded his head slowly. “I’m having dinner with Senator Bostitch tonight. I’ll tell him what’s happening and ask what we need to do to prepare. He’s our direct line to the FDA. I’m sure he’ll liaison for us.”
James shrugged his shoulders and smiled across the table at Ian. “I wish they’d listen to me. I’ve given them every opportunity to reevaluate their position on the drug.” He looked into Ian’s eyes and said, “Who in the hell ever thought a cruise on the Mediterranean Sea could be potentially devastating?”
Ian laughed, picked up his beer, and downed the remaining liquid. “Isn’t that the truth? Who would have thought?”