Vaccine Nation by David Lender Read Free Book Online Page A

cop at her apartment who went there to pick up something from her a few hours after Maguire was killed. The police can’t find her and think she’s on the run.”
    “So let the cops find her.”
    “And what happens to Maguire’s data if they do? Or what happens to her, and that data, if whoever killed Maguire finds her first and kills her, too? Or if the cops do whatever they do to cop-killers.”
    “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Stiles said. “But if somebody from the industry killed Maguire to keep the data from getting out, and they kill her, too, then they’ll destroy the data.”
    “But how do we know who killed Maguire? Maybe it wasn’t somebody from the industry. I’m just speculating. I don’t know any more than you do. And maybe it was to get the data and make sure it got publicized. But one thing I do know is the Senate hearings on vaccines next week could be the tipping point for the pharmaceutical industry. All the noise about revoking the immunity Congress gave us from lawsuits about damaged kids from the national vaccination program? And some data, bogus or not, with bad facts for the industry getting plopped down in the middle of that? Congress strips our immunity and the plaintiff’s bar gets ahold of whatever this information is, and we could get hit with lawsuits that will make the tobacco industry’s seem like routine slip-and-fall cases.”
    Stiles didn’t answer for a moment, then said, “Something stinks. One of our people, one of our own people gets murdered today. And we’re talking about butting our noses into police business because of our own industry self-interest. We should let the cops find the killer, and the girl, and the data, if it exists at all, and figure out what it means afterward. This is none of our business.”
    Madsen reared up in his chair, his breath come into his lungs in a huge gasp. “None of our business?” he shouted. “How couldit be any more our business? One of our researchers steals some research he either did with our R&D money, maybe even some of our joint-venture partners’ money, or fabricated—maybe a bunch of shit that could bring down our industry—then hands it over to some misguided do-gooder filmmaker bitch who now thinks she’s going to use it to win an Academy Award, and you’re saying it’s none of our business? I’m the CEO of this company, with a fiduciary obligation to protect it, its employees, customers and shareholders from the frivolous act of a dishonest employee. And you’re the CFO and I’m giving you a direct order to put this team together and find this fucking girl! Understand?”
    Stiles stood up, “Message received.” He started toward the door, then turned and faced Madsen. “But I don’t like it. And in my experience, cops don’t like a bunch of PIs nosing around in their business, even if we tell them we’re only trying to help.”
    “Then don’t tell the cops.”
    Stiles didn’t answer, just turned and walked out the door.
    What a cluster fuck. Madsen wasn’t sure Stiles believed him, although he was certain Stiles would set up the team and make it a priority. But that was more pushback from him than usual. Still, nobody, except maybe the FBI, could do as good a job as Stiles of putting together a team to track the bitch down. Shit, probably half the guys at the PI firms he used were ex-cops and FBI who rented out by the hour, and didn’t give a shit about anything except getting paid.
    Madsen realized he was wringing his hands. Now it wasn’t just the next quarter’s earnings at stake. If any of Madsen’s murder got traced back to him, he was toast. But even worse, if this girl had what he thought she had, his whole life’s work could be down the drain. The whole reason he’d gone into the pharma industry after medical school: because he couldn’t do squat assome local Podunk doctor. Yes, he was making scads of money on the corporate side, that was obvious, but it wasn’t