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

healthy? “Probably a bribe. Typical biotech conduct.”

“Wasn’t a bribe, I can tell you.”

Luke sat on his desk and looked down on North LaSalle, currently closed to traffic. Two weeks back, a marble slab fell off the building, and liability remained unresolved. He wouldn’t go to Five Guys. He’d stop by the supermarket and get some type of chicken with salad.

“It’s all pretty confusing. I mean, she’s been fucking with this Sanomo guy. I know that for a fact. Total fact. But now, right the next day, she’s hitting on me like a blind dog in a pie factory.”

“And the problem is?”

“Alright, it’s this guy Hoffman. He’s real interested in all this, and he says, well, if she doesn’t get naked, I’ve got to do something weird.”

“Got the right man.”

“No, listen bro. I’m going over there now. And Hoffman says if we don’t fuck—that’s me and her—I’ve gotta do this thing with the drapes.”

“Man, that’s so West Coast.”

“He says, what he says is, if she doesn’t spread her legs, I’m to open one of the drapes. Yeah?”

Luke groaned. “No, you got that part wrong. He means if she does spread her legs you open the drapes.”

“No. Definitely he said if she doesn’t. If we don’t fuck—repeat don’t fuck—then I’m to open a curtain and leave the apartment. And go to my hotel and eat dinner.”

Luke vaulted from the desk and pressed his forehead against the window. Bad memories of Ben had flickered lately. Ben in ninth grade with thirty bucks he’d collected for a nonexistent religious foundation. Ben on Luke’s bed marking cards with his nails before poker with Jad and the band. Ben during his scam to unload… What did he say? “Fuck it man, what did you say?”

“I said…”

“I heard what you said. That’s an alibi. This guy’s fixing you with an alibi.”

“I don’t think so. Yeah, well, I guess possibly something along those lines. Possibly. Maybe. I’m not sure. Hard to say.”

“So… You’re saying, what? This lady’s complaining about the pivotal trial for that vaccine they want to license. Yes? A vaccine that probably doesn’t work.”

“Does work. At the population level. Sixty percent efficacy, minimum.”

“You’re there to flash your big ol’ dick at her. Am I right? And if she doesn’t take your nineteen point six centimeters, verified by an attorney at summer room temperature, you open the drapes and get yourself an alibi?”

“You’ll never let that go, will you?”

“Earth to Pudge. Earth to Pudge. Have you entertained the possibility they intend harm to this lady? Serious—physical—harm?”

“Come on bro, do me a favor here. You’re always so over-the-top about everything.”

“So, what’s this Hoffman guy’s interest in whether you fuck her or not? Does he want to watch? I could get that. Sure, open the curtains, let’s all see you go at her. But you’re saying here something like if you fuck, she’s cool. Yeah? And if you don’t fuck, she’s in with some Yakuza outfit. Am I right?”

“Look, I know this whole thing sucks. I know that. Lot of compromise going down here. Ethical dilemmas. But it’s happening, yeah? Listen, I’m stuck in the middle of all this, and I don’t know what the fuck it’s about.”

“Man, what you got into this time?”

“Just trying to get through this assignment they gave me. Dinner and a fuck and a pay raise.”

“So, why don’t you call him up if you don’t fuck her? Use the phone? You know, c-e-l-l? What’s with the drapes thing?”

“Said he didn’t want me to call anyone before tomorrow. Very definite about that. Turn off my phone and everything. Shouldn’t be calling you now. I’m taking a big risk here even telling you about it.”

“Yeah, and you know why? Because he doesn’t want any call data logged through the cellular networks. I say, ‘Hello? Anybody home?’”

The traffic got louder. “Yeah, well this guy’s pretty regular. He’s not gonna be tied up with much. He’s the company’s general counsel for fuck sake.”

“And he’s the guy talking about Henry Louviere. Am I remembering all this correctly?”

“Well…”

“Am I right?”

“It’s pretty confusing.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, well I’m not doing the drapes thing, anyhow. That’s not gonna happen. We’re gonna have a cool and, dare I say, intimate evening. I can tell. Which means it’s no problemo, buddy. I mean, I practically saved her life in DC.”

“You what?”

“Chill out. Take your finger out your ass. I’ll find a way to keep everyone happy here. She was practically sitting on my face this afternoon.”

“And what if you don’t? What if you don’t fuck her? They break her legs? They throw her off the Bay Bridge? What happens then?”

“If I don’t? Hey, this is me.”

“Man, sounds like this thing’s right out of control. Sounds like you’re getting suckered into something pretty fucking deep here.”

“You think?”

“Listen to me now, Ben. Listen. Please. This is for your own good, trust me now. Forget everything else now. Listen. What you need to do now is hang up, start the car, drive to the airport, and get the fuck out of there. Get out. Go now. Tonight.”

Twenty-eight

SUMIKO’S VOICE echoed from somewhere in the apartment. And Ben heard the rattle of a keyboard. He stood in his white DePaul & Furbeck T-shirt and baggy blue surf shorts at the top of a flight of stairs from the street.

“You hungry?” she called.

“Not immediately.”

“Me neither.”

Along a hardwood corridor lined with framed black-and-white photographs, he counted five rooms. To his left: the kitchen, now golden at sunset, with a shoulder-height refrigerator and a pair of French doors slid back to a plank deck and fire escape. Ahead: a bathroom and two main rooms. And a bedroom—far right—took the corner of the apartment, overlooking both Twentieth and Missouri.

Sumiko appeared in a loose green T-shirt printed “Extinction Rebellion” across her breasts. She scurried to the kitchen, called “You want a beer?” and grabbed two bottles of Kirin. He followed her to a sparsely furnished, hard floored, living room with three windows looking east toward the bay. Each was flanked by billowing