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

Ben pulled out his shades and wrapped them across his face. “I mean, definitely she’s out to get Wilson. That’s definitely genuine. But I’m thinking maybe she’s getting over it, seeing it more in perspective. Like you said. Maybe she’s chilling out, the danger’s passed, and she’s thinking about other stuff. I mean, I could stay here the weekend, if it helps.”

Hoffman laughed without a trace of amusement. “So, she’s just looking for a good time now?”

“She is being pretty friendly.”

“What you saying here? She’s gonna be getting out of bed with the Jap one night and getting in with you the next, without taking time out to change the sheets?”

“Maybe she’s doing that now.”

“I don’t mean change the goddamn sheets. I mean the guy’s still in town. What are you saying here? He fucks her Wednesdays and Fridays, and you fuck her Thursdays and Saturdays? That how it works?”

That did seem kind of strong. “I’m not saying that exactly. But she did make this big deal about asking me over. I mean, she did. She really did.”

Hoffman’s gaze punched through the Maui Jims. “Now I find it hard to believe this Murayama guy wants to fuck with us. But he ain’t in town for squashed duck on Potrero Hill, I’m telling you.”

“They said he’s a tourist. Both of them. He bought an Elvis movie this morning. Probably a collector’s item. Killing time before going to DC Monday, he says. Then he’s heading for Nagoya, he says. She says she’s not told him anything about Wilson. Wouldn’t be professional, she says.”

“Sure. He says, she says. And ain’t this world so sweet ’n’ lovely? My guess, Ben Louviere, is she’s playing you for a dope.”

“A dope? How d’you mean? I don’t get it.”

“Okay, let me explain, so maybe you do. My money’s on this lady walking us all around in a big, lazy ol’ circle here, chewing up our time on all this source data verification garbage, home visits for Christ’s sake. And, yeah, sure, maybe she’ll be sucking your cock till four in the morning.”

“Cool.”

“And then she turns up in DC next week, next month, whenever, with this fucking Jap screaming, (a) she made complaints of scientific malfeasance, and (b) the old girl, you, this asshole here, the whole fucking company, did jack shit about it.”

“What, you mean they’re in it together?”

“Give the man a prize. They’re in it together.”

TIME SLIPPED on to a little after seven. Ben gazed at the street, now practically deserted. Nobody else was holding meetings in their cars.

Hoffman snapped his fingers. “Gimme your phone.”

Ben passed forward his Samsung.

Hoffman squeezed the power button and gave the phone back. “Don’t you see? She’s got you blinded. All of us. If we’d fessed up Monday and said, ‘Hey, we got a query with one of our trial centers’—unexplained excess lost to follow-up shit, patients going awol—FDA would’ve hauled our asses up to Silver Spring, slapped us, whined like hell, and still given us the license. See? But we dragged our feet, listening to that woman.”

“You think?”

“She knew you’d come to us. Probably knew we’d send this motherfucker out here, or the old girl, scratching her ass at the Hyatt. That’s Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday gone. Tomorrow’s Friday. Can’t get a meeting that fast. Then the weekend, Monday comes, and we can’t level with the feds if we wanted.”

“Yeah, but she, they, could have gone to FDA without telling us anything. Why even bother with all this?”

“Look here, FDA wouldn’t care about what she told you. Some little-dicked KKK apologist, racist abuse, homophobic insults, threw a guy off the trial, volunteer retention issues, a couple of totally irrelevant deaths, and how Wilson stinks like a sewer?”

“I guess.”

“Fuck’s sake, we told her about those reply forms. What else she have before that crap? Not a chance. Sanomo wanted her to get us out here.”

“Didn’t think of that.”

“We locked her out the database Saturday, and she called you Sunday, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

“They knew anything Wilson was in on would be chiseled in some way. There’s bound to be more we don’t know about. Fuck knows why he still works for us. And don’t forget, when it comes to the feds, vaccines are seriously political these days.”

“So, what’s the difference now?”

“The difference now is (a) she’s got what that crazy old bat found out about this useless piece of shit here—excuse me, please, Dr. Executive Vice President, Research and Motherfuckin’—and (b) she can scream ‘cover up,’ the longer she keeps this going. And cover-up is what?”

“I’m not with you.”

“Begins with a ‘p’.”

“Uhm, political?”

“Correctamundo. Mucho political. That’s what dropped President Richard Nixon. It’s always the cover-up. It’s always the cover-up that gives the mens rea. Proves the intent.”

“But they can do all that anyway now, can’t they, if they were going to? I mean, and she’s still inviting me over.”

Hoffman jabbed a thumb. “Listen to me kid, my money says she’s laughing at you, laughing at the lot of us. You hit on that lady and you see her laugh in your face. One look at your cock and she’ll scream.”

Ben leaned back and tried to stretch his legs. There was only one way to find out who was right. And only one guy booked for the job. “So, what you want me to do then? You want me to go over there, or not?”

“Makes no difference to me, so long as you keep your trap shut. Now we’re in all this crap. Sure, why not? We’ll deal with Murayama. Find him a city bed for the night. You want to go over there and keep your trap shut, fine by me. Got no problem if you reach Planet Vulva.”

“Okay, I can do that. Then I’ll call you later and let you know.”

“No. Don’t do that. Do not even think of calling me. Not before tomorrow. No. I don’t want to know about any of this. Do not call me. You got that? You don’t call anyone till tomorrow. Midday earliest. No