Crawford was with Roanne when I rejoined her. I was still stinging from the ramifications of what Max had just said to me.
“Fred ranted,” Crawford said. “He accused Stroble of telling a C pack of lies. According to Fred, neither he nor Kelly had a Swiss, Cayman Island, or any other offshore account.”
Roanne looked at him softly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Crawford paced. “I knew he was killing the messenger. He had to vent. Finally, in sheer exhaustion, he collapsed into a chair, mumbling about his wife, children, and his long-term status as a senator. He demanded to know how I got the tape. I said I couldn’t say. He wasn’t happy with that, but after he mulled things over, he calmed down and apologized for his temper.
“He then said, ‘I can’t imagine what I ever did to Mort for him to say lies like that about me.’”
That blew my mind.
“What’s next?” he asked.
I looked at Roanne and asked, “May I?
She nodded.
“Tomorrow, the Star will be running an exclusive report out of Frankfurt, Germany, on a miracle cancer drug.”
“Where’d this come from?”
I told him the story.
“Is Rogers aware of this?”
I nodded. “He’s the brains behind it. The patients have been in treatment for three and four months . . . long before Tutoxtamen was turned down by the FDA.”