BLIND TRIAL by Brian Deer (good books to read for adults .txt) 📕

Outside the hotel, the doorman wagged a finger. The Sentra was causing an obstruction. Taxis were setting down at Stockton and Sutter, unable to pull in by the canopy. Ben raised a hand, mouthed “one more minute,” and fiddled with his Maui Jim shades.

He tuned the radio to 107.7 and drummed on his thighs to Bruce Springsteen. Two minutes more, and Sumiko hurtled from the lobby and leaped into the seat beside him. She wore a skin-hugging tan sweater and tight black pants. In one hand she clutched a big manila envelope.

Ben pulled away, signaled, and turned left. “You reckon she’ll live then, or what?”

“She’ll live alright. I left her in the bar. Says she needs to make some calls.”

He eased the car westward at walking pace, then pulled over into a space by a hydrant. “You want to go to the hospital, or back to your place? I’m thinking we need to catch lunch.”

She raised the flap on the envelope, looked inside, and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Lunch? Well, I’m telling you, the first thing I’m doing is checking those cases they forged the forms on. Find out exactly what happened.”

This sounded ill-advised; unlikely to help; unlikely to put a lid on the trouble.

“Did Doc Mayr say that?”

“She doesn’t need more stress.”

“But did she say it?”

“In as many words, not exactly.”

“Okay. Can I suggest this? Let’s eat now. Yeah? And we can do whatever after that. I’m getting seriously hungry.”

“I think we need to those volunteers or their families first. Or anything could happen, couldn’t it? Look how quick they shut me out of the database.”

“Yeah, we could do that. But what’s the point? I mean, it’s pretty obvious from the way Wilson reacted he knew what happened. Sounds to me like Grahacharya signed the forms and mailed them in to SPIRE himself to save themselves the trouble. And that’s seriously bad. Definitely.”

“We don’t know that’s the reason.”

“I think it’s a fair assumption.”

“Yes, but why make assumptions if we can find out for a fact? Could be anything. If they’d lie with the SPIRE study, they’d lie about anything.”

Ben smacked his lips. “You know, this could be your career here. I’m thinking you need to do the right thing and follow the right procedures. Otherwise, there might be some kind of pushback. You don’t know. As a lawyer, I’d have to advise you’re best doing everything by the book in a situation like this.”

She didn’t look to be listening. If she was, it made no difference. She leafed through her list, ran a finger down the names, and hammered a fist on her knee.

“Damn.”

“What is it?”

“It’s this list. It’s got the names, IDs, dates of birth, and street addresses. But it doesn’t have phone numbers or emails.”

“Okay. That answers my question. Let’s go get lunch now, then talk with Doc Mayr. Yeah? She can get into the database, if she thinks that’s the right thing to do.”

Sumiko’s face brightened. “Maybe I can find them online. Google Ramirez for a start. Worth trying. He might be listed somewhere or have a business.”

“Think he worked at a 7–Eleven.”

“Okay, so that might mean shift work, irregular hours. And, if we can’t phone him, the SPIRE protocol allows home visits if local resources are available. Which they are.”

“I’ll tell you this, I really want to help. But I definitely think we need to slow down.”

“Well, I don’t. I mean, what could be more urgent? Before they go into that database and change the forms.”

“Yeah, but the forms aren’t even at your center. They were issued at the hospital, but the return address was at SPIRE. It’s a different study. The records on that are somewhere else completely, on the East Coast.”

She produced her iPhone, stabbed “Rafael Ramirez” and “San Francisco” into the search box, and sighed. “There’s a lot.”

“No, really?”

By now she was looking to be pretty wound up. She was practically salivating with motivation. “Okay. I’m going round there, right now. Clementina Street.” She stabbed again at her phone. “Six minutes from here. Home visit, quick as phoning. Back down Sutter to Kearney, turn right across Market to Third.”

Ben raised his hands and scratched the sides of his head, grating furiously behind both ears. “Okay, so then maybe we get there, we find Wilson called Homeland Security on the guy for attending the hospital whilst Latino. Or Ramirez figured out he was on the placebo arm and couldn’t be assed to keep coming back. Or he left town for Tijuana. What does it matter anyhow?”

“What I want to know is what went on between him and Wilson. Humor me, if you will.”

Ben braked at a stoplight. “I feel duty bound to advise this may not be the optimum response. If you don’t want to go the company way, why not get a lawyer, file under the Whistleblower Protection Act, coz it’s government money. Yeah? Then sit back and enjoy the show.”

“I don’t want all that, and it would take forever. Years, I expect. This is science we’re talking about. Besides, Clementina Street’s actually on our way.”

“Way where?”

“Back to the hospital.”

The stoplight turned green. “Yeah maybe. Whatever. I just think we should wait and let more senior people work this out. They’ll have the experience to know what to do.”

“Okay. You don’t have to come. You can let me out here.” She leaned forward in the shotgun, her tan sweater expanding. “If you don’t care about these violations… I thought you did. I thought you were different from the rest.”

“Okay, okay. But I’m just saying maybe later. Might not even be an hour’s difference.”

Now her voice softened, like she was listening to herself. “I’ve clinical appointments later, so I have to do it now. If you’d take me, I’d be grateful. I really would.”

“I’m just saying I think I need authorization.”

She brushed a palm against the sweater. “Well, if you need authorization, then you’re not going to get it, are you? So, I’ll need to get a taxi, that’s all.” She