government God was a theoretical, all-encompassing, and even generic deity, not the punitive, white-bearded denizen of the Old Testament. Not that Forsyth appreciated the subtle distinctions.
“So Briggs was messing with some fear stimulants,” Burchfield said. “Nothing much new there. The DOD has been working on that since the LSD and mescaline experiments. The trouble is they’ve never found a drug that has the same effect on every person. If you dose your enemy, you’re just as likely to create a savage, bloodthirsty war machine as you are a man-mouse. Same with your own people.”
“Well, maybe Briggs succeeded,” Mark said. “I’m still not clear on that.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a handle on him.” Burchfield, the son of a tobacco farmer, had been studying for his chosen career since being elected class president in grammar school, and he was used to moving human chess pieces.
But in Mark’s world, control was limited to laboratory tests and board rooms and didn’t extend as readily to the scientists who concocted the substances. Science required rigid discipline, but a revolutionary creativity was essential for breakthroughs. Briggs was revolutionary in more ways than Mark cared to admit.
“I’ll have it all by the time we go to the trials,” Mark said. “I have to dig through some records at UNC, where the original testing took place. Don’t worry, we’ll put on a good show for the FDA. He’s running two test groups, apparently. And we can always retroactively adjust the data.”
“I can push on this, but the FDA is still going to want at least six months of solid numbers,” Burchfield said. “A flawless six months.”
“Some of the elements are patented, so we’ll have to do some shuffling,” Mark said. “CRO doesn’t want anyone coming in claiming intellectual theft right before Halcyon hits the shelves.”
“Sounds like Halcyon’s got more holes than a rusty milk bucket,” Forsyth said. To Burchfield, he added, “I’d tread mighty careful, Daniel. One slip and no Oval Office in two years.”
“I’ll want a full report on what Briggs is up to,” Burchfield said to Mark. “This ‘fear drug’ might even wind up being more valuable than Halcyon. I don’t like question marks, and I don’t like our security agencies getting to it before I know what’s what. Understood?”
Mark frowned. CRO had invested heavily in Burchfield, even more than it had invested in Briggs. “I’ll handle it personally, sir.”
Burchfield pressed the button to summon the driver. “Next exit.”
Winston nodded, and the limo glided up a ramp. The senator said, “You’d better take another route to the airport. It’s probably best if we’re not all seen together.”
“I’ll miss my flight,” Mark protested, still shaken but eager to get out of that mad city.
“We’ve taken care of everything.”
The limo pulled into a gas station. A taxi waited by the kerosene pump, a dark-skinned man in a turban at the wheel. Winston stopped beside the taxi, hopped out, opened Mark’s door, and unlocked the trunk. By the time Mark stood blinking on the crumbled tarmac, Winston was putting the suitcase handle in his hand.
“Is it safe?” Mark asked, meaning the cab, but he figured the question applied equally to the entire situation.
“Just don’t go steppin’ in nothing unless you got your hip waders on,” Forsyth said.
“Get your data in line,” Burchfield said. “Just make damned sure it all looks good on paper. And keep a tight rein on Briggs.”
“And your wife,” Forsyth added.
Winston got in and drove away, and Mark looked around before slowly approaching the cab.
“Airport?” the driver said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alexis wound through the clusters of students milling on the commons. It was Friday morning, and most upperclassmen were wise enough to manipulate their schedules for a three-day weekend, so the college was less crowded than usual. Even so, the
“So Briggs was messing with some fear stimulants,” Burchfield said. “Nothing much new there. The DOD has been working on that since the LSD and mescaline experiments. The trouble is they’ve never found a drug that has the same effect on every person. If you dose your enemy, you’re just as likely to create a savage, bloodthirsty war machine as you are a man-mouse. Same with your own people.”
“Well, maybe Briggs succeeded,” Mark said. “I’m still not clear on that.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a handle on him.” Burchfield, the son of a tobacco farmer, had been studying for his chosen career since being elected class president in grammar school, and he was used to moving human chess pieces.
But in Mark’s world, control was limited to laboratory tests and board rooms and didn’t extend as readily to the scientists who concocted the substances. Science required rigid discipline, but a revolutionary creativity was essential for breakthroughs. Briggs was revolutionary in more ways than Mark cared to admit.
“I’ll have it all by the time we go to the trials,” Mark said. “I have to dig through some records at UNC, where the original testing took place. Don’t worry, we’ll put on a good show for the FDA. He’s running two test groups, apparently. And we can always retroactively adjust the data.”
“I can push on this, but the FDA is still going to want at least six months of solid numbers,” Burchfield said. “A flawless six months.”
“Some of the elements are patented, so we’ll have to do some shuffling,” Mark said. “CRO doesn’t want anyone coming in claiming intellectual theft right before Halcyon hits the shelves.”
“Sounds like Halcyon’s got more holes than a rusty milk bucket,” Forsyth said. To Burchfield, he added, “I’d tread mighty careful, Daniel. One slip and no Oval Office in two years.”
“I’ll want a full report on what Briggs is up to,” Burchfield said to Mark. “This ‘fear drug’ might even wind up being more valuable than Halcyon. I don’t like question marks, and I don’t like our security agencies getting to it before I know what’s what. Understood?”
Mark frowned. CRO had invested heavily in Burchfield, even more than it had invested in Briggs. “I’ll handle it personally, sir.”
Burchfield pressed the button to summon the driver. “Next exit.”
Winston nodded, and the limo glided up a ramp. The senator said, “You’d better take another route to the airport. It’s probably best if we’re not all seen together.”
“I’ll miss my flight,” Mark protested, still shaken but eager to get out of that mad city.
“We’ve taken care of everything.”
The limo pulled into a gas station. A taxi waited by the kerosene pump, a dark-skinned man in a turban at the wheel. Winston stopped beside the taxi, hopped out, opened Mark’s door, and unlocked the trunk. By the time Mark stood blinking on the crumbled tarmac, Winston was putting the suitcase handle in his hand.
“Is it safe?” Mark asked, meaning the cab, but he figured the question applied equally to the entire situation.
“Just don’t go steppin’ in nothing unless you got your hip waders on,” Forsyth said.
“Get your data in line,” Burchfield said. “Just make damned sure it all looks good on paper. And keep a tight rein on Briggs.”
“And your wife,” Forsyth added.
Winston got in and drove away, and Mark looked around before slowly approaching the cab.
“Airport?” the driver said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alexis wound through the clusters of students milling on the commons. It was Friday morning, and most upperclassmen were wise enough to manipulate their schedules for a three-day weekend, so the college was less crowded than usual. Even so, the
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