BLIND TRIAL Brian Deer (best novels for beginners TXT) 📖

Three more cases. Nil of interest. Then the other client death she’d discovered. Here was Helen Allison Glinski, thirty-three at enrollment. The Chronicle ran a paid-for obituary. A retail manager, from Corona Heights, San Francisco. Trial number WV006974. She was signed up by Dr. Mohammed Shah and came for two shots, then signed off as lost to follow-up by, yes, Wilson.

She tapped through the Glinski records: virology… biochemistry… immunology… microbiology… clinical. Nothing remarkable. Helen was randomized to receive the company’s vaccine, and her antibody test for HIV was positive. So, here was a Wilson client with a breakthrough infection. A few minor issues were reported in the notes: headaches, sinusitis, an injection site nodule. But she’d gone lost to follow-up months before her death, so nothing about the heart disease that killed her.

Over the next ninety minutes, Sumiko found five more of Wilson’s—three on placebo; two on WernerVac—but nothing to pin anything on him. A few date-stamped corrections, but nothing out-of-the-ordinary. SPIRE access: unavailable for any.

She returned to the welcome screen, raised the list again, and clicked on an icon for print. A laser by the reception counter spat five sheets of paper: fifty-six names, ID numbers, birth dates, and residential addresses at enrollment.

POSSIBLY THIS wasn’t the most promising strategy. Where else could she look? Ah-ha. If Ardelia’s password couldn’t access SPIRE, it could certainly open Wilson’s correspondence.

She quit the database and launched a mail server. “Speaker thanks.” Click. A speaking invitation. “Corridor letter.” Click. A feud with the hospital. “NCI cash.” Click. A grant application. She clicked at random through Wilson’s wit and wisdom. She could be here for the rest of her life.

There were bound to be emails referring to herself. There would surely be “Honda this” and “Honda that.” She opened “Honda noise” and found a memo Wilson sent her about “playing cheap music” in her room. She opened “Vacation honda” and found a note telling Ardelia that, in his absence, Dr. Dutta was in charge. She opened “Honda jap” and found a memo banning staff from making international phone calls.

What an asshole. What a pig to work for. What a stinking bucket of excrement on wheels.

She scrolled and scrolled: “Glove supplies glitch… PCR reagents…” Then she lingered on a filename: “Ramirez bump.”

Rafael Ramirez was lost to follow-up. She’d tapped through his file an hour ago. Click. A Wilson letter to one Rafael Juan Ramirez, of Clementina Street, San Francisco.

Dear Rafael,

Your contribution to our WernerVac phase III randomized placebo controlled clinical trial has been greatly appreciated. However, we now find we are in the fortunate position of being somewhat oversubscribed and are therefore able to release some participants from this arduous regime of attendance.

I am therefore glad to tell you that we will no longer require you to attend the center for further sessions. Naturally, you will receive the full reimbursement for your involvement, agreed at enrollment, including payment for those future sessions for which we no longer need you to attend.

We will write you in due course with the outcome of the study. Thank you so much for your assistance with this important project. You should feel proud of your contribution.

Frank V. Wilson, MD, Director.

Sumiko was gobsmacked. Bizarre. Nonsensical. Oversubscribed with volunteers? That’s ludicrous. And bumping a volunteer? That’s impossible, impermissible. This shouldn’t happen. Can’t happen. Did.

Twelve

SUMIKO CALLED him that night, but what she said hardly registered. Ben had only one thing on his mind. There was a connection of some kind between his mother and Mr. Hoffman. She hadn’t pulled his name off the website.

All afternoon, his mother’s phone was switched off. His calls went to voicemail: none returned. It was 21:25 Central before she finally had the guts to sneak out of hiding and pick up.

She was in the street, walking. Where or why didn’t matter. What mattered was she’d better explain.

“So, you do know him then?”

“Possibly… I’m not sure.”

“Gimme a break, mom. We both know it.”

“Well, even if it’s him, it’s all a long time ago now, and it’s not important anymore. I think we ought to leave it there. What belongs in the past ought to stay in the past. I hope you’re in a better mood now.”

“What, you had an affair, or something? You were screwing? I mean, so what? It’s the twenty-first century, you know. In fact, it might give me some leverage.”

He heard the rub and rustle of clothing as she moved.

“Look, mom, I can get his personal number, and ask him, if I have to. So, you might as well tell me before this gets embarrassing.”

“Don’t do that. Promise me you won’t. Promise me you won’t get involved. If you want to come home, then perhaps you should. I can help for a few months if you need money.”

“What do you mean, ‘get involved’? I’m already involved. They’re threatening to fire me, and they know about him. Mr. Hoffman’s the one who told me.”

“Fire you? Why? This is really all pointless. If you’ve made your mind up, follow your instincts. Why not come home next weekend, and we can talk about it then?”

“Must know him pretty well to get so uptight. Look, ultimatum. I’ll ask him if you don’t tell me.”

“That would be a mistake.”

“Last chance. I’m gonna phone his office first thing tomorrow and ask how he knows Suzy Louviere. If he’s an old boyfriend, or something, that’s nothing to anyone. Mother, I’m too white to be his love child.”

She sighed a sigh: a sigh kept in store to encapsulate a life full of sighs. “Alright. But let’s be straight. Be quite sure we have the right man. Lawyer. Big man. Full of himself.”

“Theodore Hosea Hoffman III.”

Dead air on the phone connection confirmed it was him. “Alright,” she said. “You asked me.” Keys jangled. “But don’t blame me. It’s you who wants to know.”

“Continue.”

“I should have known something like this would happen. I warned him to stay away, but he laughed.”

Suzy then spoke of Theodore Hoffman. He was Henry’s