Lost Immunity by Daniel Kalla (free reads TXT) 📕

didn’t show up for a few days, so the investigator didn’t include it in the results. Who knows? Maybe Peter got to him. Anyway, it was never reported. I only found out secondhand, through a French colleague.”

Lisa’s head spins. “And you’re sure Moore knew all this?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“From me. But I never put in writing. So no doubt he’ll deny it.”

Lisa is still digesting the latest revelation when her phone rings. She looks down to see Eileen’s number. “Sorry, but I have to take this.” She rises and walks away from the table to answer.

“I found some more e-prescription records,” Eileen says as soon Lisa picks up.

“On Max?” Lisa asks.

“No. From New York. On a Jennifer Swanson.”

Lisa turns her back to the table. “Swanson? Is she Fiona’s mother?” she whispers.

“Yes. And it’s a long list. Multiple medications for heart disease, blood pressure, and diabetes.” She pauses, and Lisa hears pages shuffling in the background. “But over the past six months, Mrs. Swanson has also been prescribed lamotrigine, co-trimoxazole, allopurinol, fluconazole, carbamazepine, and, most recently, oseltamivir.”

The phone freezes in Lisa’s hand. “All six of the contaminants in Neissovax.”

“Yes.”

“I’m with Fiona now.”

“Where?”

“Her hotel. The rooftop bar.”

“Stall her! I’m on my way,” Eileen says, and then is gone.

Before turning back to the table, Lisa takes a slow breath and wills the emotion out of her expression. With each step back, she’s aware of Fiona’s eyes on her and feels as self-conscious as someone trying to look natural while aware that she’s being filmed.

“Everything OK?” Fiona asks Lisa once she reaches the table.

“Just my husband.” Lisa clears her throat as she reclaims her seat. “All good.”

“The call came up as just a number on your screen.” Fiona points out. “You don’t store your husband’s contact on your phone?”

Lisa shifts on her the chair. “He was calling from the hospital.”

“At this time?”

“He had an emergency add-on case in the cath lab.” Nerves get the better of her, and Lisa can’t help but expand on the lie. “A young guy with bad coronaries. He would’ve had a heart attack any day without intervention.”

Despite Fiona’s placid expression, Lisa sees the skepticism in her gaze. “What was the call really about, Lisa?” she asks quietly.

“Your mother,” Lisa replies, recognizing the futility of obfuscating.

“My mom?”

“More specifically, the record of her recent prescriptions.”

The surprise vacates Fiona’s expression, replaced by something akin to admiration. Her shoulders relax, and she suddenly looks at ease. Peaceful, even. “How did you figure it out?”

The question is posed so casually that Lisa almost misses its significance. “We tested the used syringes.”

“The used syringes,” Fiona echoes. “I was so careful to get rid of the spent vials. But nothing I could do about those syringes. I offered to take care of the sharps containers, but your team wouldn’t allow it. And I couldn’t push too much.”

“I guess not.”

For a long moment, Fiona is as silent as she is immobile. “I didn’t mean for anyone to die,” she finally says.

“I believe you,” Lisa says, wanting to keep her talking.

“He bullied me back then, too.”

It takes Lisa a moment to gain her bearings. “Peter Moore?”

She nods. “After Walt died. Peter bullied us all. There was a class-action suit.”

“Over the flu vaccine?”

“Yes,” Fiona says. “Something was wrong with Delaware’s supply. There were twice as many cases of Guillain-Barré syndrome as usual. A bunch of other people died, too. A law firm in DC launched a class-action suit on our behalves. But they were no match for Peter’s legal army. He forced a settlement on us through the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program.”

Lisa says nothing, sensing that her best approach is to let Fiona vent.

“You know how much I got for Walt’s death?”

Lisa shakes her head.

“After legal expenses? Eighty-three thousand dollars.” Fiona chuckles grimly. “Eighty-three thousand. That’s what Delaware Pharmaceuticals and Peter Moore valued the slow, painful murder of my husband at.”

Lisa wants to keep her talking. “You decided to get even?” she prompts.

“No.” Fiona’s gaze drifts to the window and her voice goes even quieter. “Not at first. Initially, I just wanted an explanation. To understand how it worked inside the belly of the beast. I was worried they might recognize me from the class-action suit, so I switched from my first name, Gayle, to my middle name, Fiona, and reverted to my maiden name, Swanson. Then I took a job at Delaware. No one there made the connection.”

“You said ‘not at first.’ What changed?”

“I saw how little they cared about the damage they were doing. Profit. Share prices. Bonuses. Those were their only measures of success. Lives lost didn’t really matter at Delaware.” Fiona’s eyes redden. “And then I met other victims’ families. And the more I heard about the suffering Delaware’s shoddy vaccines had caused, the more I realized something had to be done.”

“And then Neissovax came along?”

“Fate, right? How could it not have been?” Fiona closes her eyes and exhales. “The poetic irony… After what their flu shot had done to Walt, I was being gifted the opportunity to make amends through their latest vaccine. To take Delaware down and reveal the dangers of wanton vaccination in one swoop.”

“Not as easy as it sounds, is it, though?”

“The razor’s edge,” Fiona admits. “So many variables, so much to balance. The vaccine had already passed phase-three trials without issue. If there were too many reactions, too quickly, I knew you would’ve smelled a rat and halted the program from the outset.”

“It had to be subtle.”

“Very. The reactions had to be severe enough to make the vaccine unsalvageable, but uncommon enough that they still might not have shown up in the early clinical trials.”

“Like what happened with the rotavirus vaccine?”

“Exactly! And delayed hypersensitivity reactions like Stevens-Johnson syndrome were the ideal answer. But even with multiple toxins, they can be elusive. Hard to elicit.”

“You had to poison multiple vaccines to get a single significant reaction.”

“About thirty for every one, as it turns out. But it’s luck of the draw, isn’t it? I wasn’t expecting to get two reactions out of the first