Vaccine Nation (21 page)

Dobson said, “I see. Let me ask you this, then. Since the Supreme Court has now said you can’t be sued for design defects, what incentive do you have to innovate, to push the envelope to improve the designs of your vaccines based on advances in
science or technology? Or develop vaccines with the same efficacy as existing ones, but which are safer?”

Madsen conferred with his lawyer again, this time with urgency, his head moving as he spoke. Dani leaned back in her chair and looked up at the dais. Every senator’s eyes were on Madsen, waiting.

Finally, Madsen leaned forward into the microphone and said, “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“I’ll accept that as your answer, Mr. Madsen,” Dobson said. “And I remind you that this recent Supreme Court case on vaccines was an interpretation of the National Childhood Vaccine Injury Act that Congress enacted in 1986. And if
this
Congress doesn’t think either of them got it right, we have the power to change the law.”

Dani felt her chest swell, elated. She heard the hum of voices behind her again, saw a few senators’ heads nodding.

McKean spoke. “In the context of whether or not the pharmaceutical industry should be held responsible for its products, let’s turn to the implications of the study you people called Project Epsilon. What is your reaction to the statistics from the full ten years of the study, assuming they can be confirmed?”

“I can’t really answer that.”

“I don’t understand. Please look at the slide that’s still up on the opposite wall, showing the correlation coefficient of .83 and the fact that the vaccination group had a 5.3 times greater chance of developing Autism Spectrum Disorders than the unvaccinated group. How do you react to that data?”

“Senator McKean, I’m not a statistician.”

“Neither am I, Mr. Madsen, but when I see a number of 5.3 times greater chance of developing ASD in the vaccination
group, I get somewhat alarmed. Doesn’t a number like that concern you?”

“If those data are true, and if they’ve been interpreted correctly, I would say that they give rise to the need for further study.”

“But do they concern you?”

Madsen spoke to his lawyer again, this time for a full minute. “As I said, they give rise to the need for further study.”

McKean sat back in his chair and shook his head. “Well, I guess that’s the most we’re going to get out of you on that question.”

Madsen was rigid in his chair. If it was anyone else Dani would have felt sorry for him. As it was, she felt triumphant.

After another hour and a half of the senators peppering Madsen, McKean announced a recess. “Mr. Madsen,” he said, “I’m going to continue with you after lunch. Before we break, I feel it essential to make a few points. First, I remind you that the appropriate authorities will be investigating the allegations that Ms. North has made about the attempts on her life, and their potential connection to the murders of doctors Maguire and McCloskey and her friend. That includes the notion that those events could be part of a conspiracy by the pharmaceutical industry. A conspiracy to cover up information that could prove damaging to the industry’s position regarding its ongoing immunity from liability for vaccines provided as part of the National Immunization Program. Second, this committee was convened because the citizens of our country, and in response, Congress, question the advisability of continuing the pharmaceutical industry’s immunity for the National Immunization Program. If the data that Ms. North produced in her testimony is corroborated, whether or not a conspiracy to suppress it exists,
this committee will take a lead role in advising our congressional colleagues as to who should be held responsible for what may be seen in retrospect as a great national mistake. Ms. North, the committee would appreciate it if you’d make yourself available for additional questions this afternoon. Before we break, is there anything else you’d like to add for the record?”

This was it, Dani realized. McKean had orchestrated the hearing to allow her the final sound bites of the morning. She cleared her throat. “Yes, and thank you, Senator. I hope the committee understands the importance of its role in shaping our future policy on our National Immunization Program. It’s clear to me that a national debate about the sanctity of the health of our children is essential, one in which we have allowed ourselves to lose our focus. In our misguided zeal to protect our children, we have exchanged infectious diseases for lifelong developmental disorders. We have an epidemic of Autism Spectrum Disorders in this country. In 1987, one in ten thousand children was autistic. Current CDC estimates say it’s one in 110. This isn’t a genetic trend, as some suggest. It would take scores of generations to produce that dramatic a change. It isn’t better diagnosis. If it were, where are all the fifty-year-old autistic people? We’ve
created
this generation of damaged and dumbed-down children. Aside from the social costs of caring for these people, what have been the costs to them and their families in ruined lives? We must turn the priority of our National Immunization Program around. We must adopt ‘safety first’ as our guiding principle. Safety is the real issue, isn’t it? Parents of damaged kids don’t want compensation, they want their kids restored. Or, more importantly, not ruined in the first place.” Dani leaned back, tears coming to her eyes.

“Thank you, Ms. North, on behalf of the committee and the American people.” McKean banged his gavel and the room filled
with the noise of people talking. Dani sighed, relieved. She felt that not only had she done well, but that the senators had skewered Madsen. And McKean still had more in store. Dani turned to look at Madsen, who said a few more words to his lawyer, then headed toward the door, his face like a death mask. She felt a hand on her other shoulder and spun to see Roland. “Are you ready?” he said.

So much for preparation,
Madsen thought as he exited the conference room into a phalanx of reporters. Camera flashes blinded him, a half-dozen microphones were pushed into his face from a semicircle of outstretched arms. Rapid-fire questions assaulted him, “What do you have to say about Ms. North’s conspiracy accusations?” “Mr. Madsen, will you step down as CEO of Pharma International?” “What will the industry do if it loses its immunity?” “What do you know about…” He felt sweat on his forehead, bulled his way through, and hit a wall of another group of reporters.

“I’m still testifying, so it wouldn’t be appropriate to comment,” he said, and hurried toward the safety of Tillman’s office. Still the reporters peppered him and photographers snapped at him. As he passed the East Front steps, where the bitch would do her press conference, he saw the camera crews in place and reporters assembling in front of the microphone stands on the top step. Hopefully within an hour the contractor would take out the little bitch and this place would be crawling with cops. And he could forget about having McKean skewer him after lunch. He hurried past.

It wasn’t until he approached Tillman’s office that he remembered Cindy. Her urgent message to see him, something about
Lauren…He didn’t need this shit right now, but if it was about Lauren, he’d see her. He opened the door to Tillman’s office and there Cindy was, standing in the corner, an attractive woman in her 50s, turning from the window as she heard the door open.

I’ll be damned.
He wanted to look stern and annoyed, because he was, but he couldn’t help but remember the feel of her. Those languid afternoon hours between his classes in med school. She sitting upright against the pillow in bed after they’d made love, her scent thick in the air of his apartment. And now she stood, as if posing, one leg slightly in front of the other, as he remembered her. He felt like a pool of melted butter. How could a woman have this effect on a man? And after all this time? How many times had he wondered where she was, what she was doing? And then when he’d heard, years later, that her husband, Ray, was a star with the New York Giants, he’d let it go.

“Cindy,” he said.

She said nothing, milking it a little too long, he thought. “Grover.” She stood in front of one of the chairs for a moment, then sat, pulling her dress down to her knee when it hiked up. “We need to talk.” Her eyes were focused on his.

“So I understand.” He wanted to tell her she was looking well, ask her how she was, but it didn’t seem appropriate. She’d insisted upon seeing him, urgently, and he’d agreed. It was her agenda, and he was concerned enough about it to give her the space she needed. He walked behind Tillman’s desk and sat down.

“It’s about my daughter. Danielle Jackson. Her married name is North. I think you know her as Dani North.”

Madsen closed his eyes in agony. When he reopened them, Cindy had arched her neck backward, which he saw as a gesture of defiance, but it could have been pride. Now his hands were
tingling.
Holy shit.
This bitch he’d been pursuing for days,
was Cindy’s daughter.

“I’ve heard her name. She did a documentary on the drug industry. Won a prize.”

Her eyes were relentless. “From what Dani tells me, you’ve more than heard her name.”

He had to give Cindy credit: she was a presence. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said, pushing back.

“I think you know.”

Madsen shrugged. “It’s been a long time, Cindy. You said this was urgent. What’s on your mind?”

“Dani believes you’re behind what’s been happening to her since one of your employees was murdered in front of her in her office on Friday.” Madsen felt the skin on his scalp itching, like bugs were crawling around underneath it. It didn’t help that Cindy had walked to the desk, put her palms down on it and leaned forward. He remembered: she always had a flair for drama. She said, “What do you know about that?”

Madsen stood up, now towering over her. “This conversation doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. I’m testifying again in front of Senator McKean’s committee in an hour. I’m sure you’re concerned about your daughter, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“I think it does.”

Madsen waited.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Cindy said, “Think back.” She stood upright, her gaze not moving from his eyes. “You and I parted twenty-nine years and six months ago. My daughter, Dani, is twenty-nine years and three months old. Do the math. You were always good with that.”

Madsen felt a wave of dread building within him.

Cindy went on. “I met my husband, Ray, the best thing that ever happened to me, three months after you and I split up. Dani was born six months after I met Ray. Have you figured it out yet?”

Madsen took a step back. She’d had him going for a moment there, but he was regrouping. He’d heard bullshit before, but this was world class. “Come on, Cindy. What’s this really about?”

“You were always good at denial. Most men are, in my experience.”

“I think you should leave. I’d like to say this has been nice, but it hasn’t.”

“Grover, Dani is your daughter.” She paused as if she wanted it to sink in.

Madsen didn’t let her affect him. He started toward the door.

“I understand you have another daughter. Lauren.”

He didn’t respond.
Another
daughter, my ass.

She said, “Imagine someone trying to kill her.”

Madsen now felt those bugs under his scalp again. He turned to look at her. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not some twenty-two-year-old nursing student you can dismiss.” She paused. “Or talk out of her skirt.”

“Don’t demean what we had with that line of crap. I didn’t talk you out of, or into anything. I loved you and you know it.”

“Yes, Grover, I do. And I loved you, too. And Dani is the product of that love. She’s ours. Yours. Her blood is yours. You always said you were committed to saving lives. But you’re trying to kill your own daughter.”

The room seemed to be spinning around Madsen’s head.
Enough.
“Most people would do or say anything to protect their children.”

“I swear it’s true.”

Madsen knew he had her. He remembered her Catholic upbringing in Brooklyn, the rosary beads she always kept with her, even the Bible in her purse. “Swear on the Bible.”

She didn’t hesitate, pulled the little black book from her purse, slapped it on the desk and put her hand on it. “I swear that Dani North, my daughter, is
our
daughter.” He felt his knees start to buckle and moved toward a chair. She didn’t relent. “Your daughter.”

Madsen sat down with a grunt.
Oh my God.
Cindy wouldn’t, couldn’t swear like that and lie. There was no way he could pretend she hadn’t floored him. “All right,” he whispered. “I’ll fix it.”

Cindy put her face inches from his. “You damn well better.”