Out of control (16 page)

There were signs of concern in his eyes. His expression remained immobile but I thought I detected a fleeting sign of worry lines across his forehead. That decided me that the quickest way for the truth to come out was a direct accusation.

“I want to know who it was that you paid to set up Liam. I want to know why you did it - why you callously ruined the beginnings of a young man’s career. Because I can’t for the life of me work out what it was that you had to gain by it. You were also ruining a company in which you yourself were an investor. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Pretty strong words, I admit but I was sure he had something to do with it and the postmark on the letter had added to my suspicions. True, he was a friend of Pierre’s and I had liked him when we first met but I had to get to the truth.

I stopped there and leant back in my chair glancing around at the wooden shelved, book-lined walls, collected over generations. What would his forebears have thought? Unless they had also been a rapacious bunch of thieves.

His first reaction was shock. I don’t suppose anybody had ever spoken to him like that before. He reacted instinctively.

“What are you talking about? What right do you think you have to make such an accusation?”

I cut in angrily before he went any further.

“Liam was set up. Someone was sent to try and get information from him. Unfortunately he let slip the key element in the research programme which, when it was transmitted back to Lyon, allowed them to get to the same results as Bioscope and get in first with their patent application. And the person who was sent over received the identity of her target by mail in an envelope which was posted in Saumur, just down the road.”

“What!” He jolted back in surprise. “Posted from Saumur?”

I confirmed.

“Yes, and the envelope is currently in the possession of the police in Scotland.”

I stared at him furiously, challenging him to reply.

I 
have seen enough in my life to know that the actions of some individuals seem to defy all logic. I suppose it’s because it’s passions and emotions that tend to drive the unusual actions – good or bad – and not logic. I wanted to know what it was in this case.

He swivelled his wheelchair round to face the window and, elbows resting on the arms, he raised his hands to his face as if holding it up with his thumbs and forefingers. He held his head immobile and stared out of the window.

I could only see his back so I had no idea of the expression on his face. His shoulders had sagged a little and he stayed like that for a full minute, saying nothing. Then there was a sigh, a straightening up of the shoulders as if he had come to some decision. He turned back to face me. His expression was serious, with a touch of sadness in it.

“Bob, you are right,” he said.”I do know what you are talking about.”

“In that case would you mind explaining,” I said coldly. “Why did you get my grandson fired from his job?”

My voice clearly resonated with the anger I felt. This man had deliberately orchestrated a piece of what was effectively industrial espionage and Liam had been the victim.

I waited.

He looked me directly in the eye. His expression was forthright and serious. But he hesitated a little, as if steeling himself to speak.

“What I am about to tell you will make you understand what has happened but I would ask you to promise me, before I explain, that you will discuss with me what, if anything, should be done because this affects not only your grandson but two other people who are very dear to me.”

Mystified, I nodded my head. Taking that as agreement, he continued. “As you know, I used to work for LyonPharma before my accident. When I left I kept the shares I had in the company because I felt they were a good investment. Since that time things have changed. When the old boss died they brought in someone new– a M. Dugain – to take over the role of general manager a few years ago. I still have some contacts with old colleagues amongst whom are the financial director and the head of R & D.”

He paused for a second or two then went on.

“I see them from time to time when I go to Lyon and, through them, I was introduced to the new general manager. We met once over lunch. As you can imagine talk was general and concerned mostly the pharmaceutical industry. A typical business lunch with the usual discussions about markets and competitors. The new man, Bernard Dugain was very keen on hearing my opinion on marketing and sales matters and my views on new products.

“I have to admit I didn’t particularly like him and, from what I had heard, he was running the company in a very different way from before.

“During the conversation I learned of the work they were doing on an Alzheimers product. I hadn’t known this before and I happened to mention that I had a small investment in Bioscope who were working in the same direction. From what I knew about it I had felt that the project they were working on had potential. We talked a little about Bioscope because Michel, the R & D director had met Helen Mackie – they meet quite often at conferences – and knew that she had worked for me in the past. I also I mentioned that I had managed to place a friend’s grandson with them for a year’s work experience. An innocuous remark and I thought no more about it.”

I listened attentively, not wanting to break the flow of his words. This was beginning to sound very strange. I had no idea what he was leading up to.

Antoine continued.

“No confidences were broken. I said nothing about what I knew about Helen’s research and Michel told me nothing of his work. Dugain, however, was more curious. He tried to get more information out of me but I told him quite clearly that I had no knowledge of the details of Bioscope’s research – only the broad lines, which Michel knew anyway – and, even if I did I couldn’t possibly tell him.”

“What’s this guy, Dugain, like?” I asked, curious to have his opinion.

“I think when you hear the rest of what I have to say you’ll get the answer to that. Let me go on.”

He bent down to a drawer in the side of his desk and pulled out a thin file which he laid on the desk in front of him, placing his hand over it as if it contained something precious. Then he continued.

“That was several months ago. I thought no more about it. A couple of months later I had a call from Helen Mackie. She was very excited. She gave me the news that she had solved her problem and it was thanks to Liam. She hoped to register a patent within a month.”

He paused for a moment, fingering the file which lay on his desk, as if plucking up courage to go on.

“A month later I had another call from Helen. This time she was not at all happy. In fact, she was livid. She had just discovered that LyonPharma had made an application for an identical patent two weeks before and so there was no point in her doing so.”

“She was convinced that there had been a leak which she told me had come from Liam because he was the only one, other than her partner and herself, who had known about it.”

So far I had learned nothing new but I didn’t interrupt the flow. He was re-running what had happened and would get there eventually.

“I sympathised and apologized for the fact that it was because of me that your grandson had gone there in the first place. She told me she had fired Liam and that she didn’t consider I was to blame.” I was getting impatient. I got up and paced up and down, hands in pockets.

“Go on,” I said.

“I naturally wondered if there was any truth in what she said so I immediately called Michel. He was very pleased with himself. I duly congratulated him and asked him how he had solved his 

“It was really a stroke of luck, Antoine.”
he told me
. “A couple of
months ago Dugain came into my office to ask how progress was going
and I explained that we’d come to a dead end. He’s not a scientist but
we did exchange a few thoughts about how to proceed – a kind of
brain-storming if you want. To cut a long story short he proposed that
I try ultra violet light to fuse the two compounds together.

“I didn’t say that the idea was ridiculous but it did seem a crazy idea to
me at the time. He insisted I try and, lo and behold, it worked. I’d never
have believed it. The guy’s not even a scientist.”

Antoine continued. He told me that he had phoned Helen back, saying nothing about his conversation with Michel, and she had been adamant that it was no accident. She had explained how the breakthrough they had made had been a sheer fluke - a one in a million chance that had enabled them to unlock the solution. There was no way that LyonPharma could have come up with the same stroke of luck.

I wandered over to the window, hands deep in my pockets, and stared absent-mindedly at the green parkland stretching away from the house, going over what he had said.

I turned back to Antoine who was waiting patiently.

“So what did you do next?”

“I did what you’re doing right now. I had a suspicion. If it was true then I was not going to like it one bit. So I got Madeleine to drive me down to Lyon and I went to see the person who I hoped would clarify things.”

“Dugain?”

“Yes, Dugain,” he replied.

Antoine continued his story.

“At first, Dugain received me courteously. He offered me a coffee and asked me why I had come to see him. There was a look about him that I didn’t like. I think I told you that I hadn’t been too impressed the first time I met him and, chatting to Michel afterwards, I had heard some pretty unsavoury stories about the way he was managing the business. ‘Ruthless’ was a word Michel had used.”

I stopped him and mentioned that I had seen a couple of videos of the man and I knew what he meant.

“I didn’t like much of what I saw of him either,” I said.

Antoine replied ruefully. ”Wait until you here the rest.”

At his suggestion we moved over to the window. He propelled his wheelchair expertly across from behind his desk, picking up the folder as we went. I settled into an armchair. There was no longer the barrier of the desk between us and the atmosphere changed. I had the impression that he was more at ease.

“I told Dugain that Bioscope had told me that they are convinced that LyonPharma’s recent application for a patent could only have been the result of industrial espionage. They believed that there was no way that LyonPharma could have beaten them to the punch without inside knowledge.

“I didn’t mention the conversation I had had with Michel because I didn’t want him getting into trouble. I told him that Liam had been accused of passing information and had been fired. Naturally I was concerned because Liam was the grandson of a friend.

“As far as I can recall, the conversation went:

‘I want to know if you had anything to do with it. Is there any truth in
Bioscope’s accusation?’

“The bastard just sat there smiling, his beady little eyes thrusting out through his little round glasses.

‘What do you mean?’ 
he asked me.

‘
Did you have anything to do with getting information out of Liam
Bruce?’

‘Antoine…’

‘M. de Clermont, if you don’t mind…’

‘Oh. I’m very sorry,’ 
he said, leaning back in his chair with a supercilious 
air
. ‘M. Clermont, what business is it of yours?’

‘I’m a shareholder in both companies and the grandson of a friend has
just lost his job. I think that justifies my question.’

“He laughed at me. Can you believe it? He laughed at me, the bastard! If I’d had the use of my legs I’d have gone for him.”

‘M. de Clermont, what are you complaining about? You have a
considerable investment in LyonPharma and the shares have just gone
up substantially. You should be happy. We’re here to make money,
aren’t we?’

“Then his face changed. He suddenly leant forward, slammed his hand down on the desk and half rose.”

‘Yes, M. de Clermont. When you mentioned the name of your friend’s
son I wondered if I might have an opportunity to get some inside
knowledge on the progress of Bioscope. I hit the jackpot. And don’t
start moralising. Business is about making money and I don’t care
how.’

“I was disgusted. The Romanian bastard. Coming here to France with his total lack of morals, ruining our business reputation. I was furious. I told him that I would have him removed from his job. I’d inform the press, call a shareholders’ meeting and get him out.

“That was when the tone changed. He glared at me, stood up and said, coldly and slowly, ‘
You will do no such thing, Monsieur. You will say
absolutely nothing and here’s why.’

“He opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out an envelope which he handed to me.”

‘
I think our conversation is over
,’ he said.
’My secretary will show you
out” 
and left the room. I was left with the envelope in my hand. 

“When I opened it and pulled out the contents to look at them, I understood. He was right. I would say absolutely nothing.”

*

Antoine lent his head back and rubbed his hands over his eyes. To recount all this had taken a toll on him. Then he turned and looked at me.

I asked, as I was obviously expected to do, “What was in it?”

“Look for yourself,” he said, opening the file and handing me the brown envelope.

I took it and opened the flap and slipped my fingers inside. I could feel the glossiness of a photograph. I pulled it half out of its cover. There was no need to take it out completely.

Curiosity, surprise and shock. One followed the other. I was looking at a photograph of Pierre and Madeleine, in bed together, naked and embracing.

It only required a brief glance. The faces were clearly recognizable and their pose left no room for misunderstanding. I pushed the photograph straight back, closed the flap and handed it back.