Rod, Rex and Rhodaby Bob Brill |
Table of Contents |
Hanging by One Hand From the Bottom Line
Pumphrey introduces me to Dr. Hollister and quickly departs, possibly to make sure that none of the parrots are getting peckish for their high tea.
The first words Hollister says to me are, “Ah, the late Dr. Blass. Oh pardon me, I mean late in the sense of tardy. We expected you three weeks ago. Where have you been?”
“What? Don’t pretend you don’t know. I’ve been in the hospital. Some say I had an accident.” I suppress the urge to snarl and bare my teeth.
“I hope you’re feeling better now,” he says.
Bullshit, say I to myself. I love my new canine ability to see through peoples’ masks, to read their vibes directly. This Hollister is a big fellow, with a large head and a body to match. His authority in the Rumex hierarchy sits easily on him, but his superfluous little mustache shows me that he harbors doubts about himself and feels the need to strengthen his image.
“Much better, thanks,” I say. “How’s your patient doing? The one with Fallow’s Syndrome.”
“Most unfortunate. He died of pneumonia.”
“Not from Fallow’s Syndrome? I’d like to examine the body.”
“Buried. I’m afraid we couldn’t wait for your examination. But an autopsy has been performed. You may examine the death certificate.”
“I would like to examine the other subjects in your trial.”
“They’re doing fine. We are expecting a go-ahead from DOPAD to extend the trials to more subjects.”
“My concern is that Fallow’s Syndrome might show up in your other four subjects. I’d like to test for the presence of metafallazine.”
“My dear Dr. Blass, the odds are vanishingly small that any of the other subjects could have Fallow’s Syndrome. Besides we tested for metafallazine and the results were negative.”
Rex rubs up against my leg and looks up at me. I pet him. Yes, I know, Rex. The man is lying.
“But this is why DOPAD brought me in. They want an independent check on your results.”
“But my dear colleague, the world has not been on hold during your illness. DOPAD sent not one, but two, other experts to do the job you were supposed to do. Each one independently confirmed our results. So there’s nothing for you to do.”
“Yes,” I say, “I spoke to Heatherton at DOPAD this morning and he told me about the other two consultants. He said that a third independent test, just for good measure, would be worth the effort.” Best way to deal with a liar is to top his lie. What Heatherton really told me was not to bother. DOPAD was satisfied with the results they’d already seen.
“Yes,” says Hollister in a sour voice. “But you see, don’t you, that your tests are just pro forma? After all these tests, there could hardly be further cases of Fallow’s Syndrome. It’s just unfortunate that this rare disease struck one of our subjects.” He strokes his little mustache with thumb and forefinger. It seems to be one of those moments when his self-image needs bolstering.
“The sooner you introduce me to your subjects, the sooner I can make my tests, and the sooner you can get DOPAD’s approval.”
“Then may I count on a negative result?”
Rex barks. “Yes, Rex, I agree.” I turn to Hollister. “Rex smells something in the air. Even I can smell it. We smell a bribe.”
“My dear Dr. Blass, nothing could be further from the truth. However, we anticipate a multi-billion dollar business once we get through these trials. If you should happen to get a negative result, I am authorized to offer you a high-paying position with our firm complete with very generous stock options.”
I am about to blurt out a defiant no, not me, never, but a microsecond’s reflection makes me realize how dangerous that could be. What I need to do is get out of here. “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow. We can postpone the tests till then. I’ll go home and think this over.”
“Of course, take your time, Dr. Blass, but not too much time.”
“Come on, Rex, let’s go for a walk, buddy.”
Copyright © 2010 by Bob Brill
