Whiplash - Catherine Coulter [38]
Sherlock gave him a sweet smile. "Maybe it is funny. I'll tell you, though, it gives some people pause, Mr. Bender. Does it give you pause, sir?"
"I am not the bad guy in your silly plot, Agent Sherlock!"
"No sir, I'm sure you're a fine, honorable man. However, Mr. Royal did, finally, admit he'd been lying. He knew Mr. Blauvelt was here, knew he was coming to see him. We're past that lie, aren't we, Mr. Royal?"
Royal didn't say anything, only nodded.
Sherlock looked over at Dillon, who had his head down, working on MAX. She knew he'd heard her questions, knew he'd heard her lie that pushed Royal into some truth about Blauvelt. The small smile on his mouth gave him away.
She looked back at Bender the Elder to see him shooting his cuffs in a practiced movement. He was regaining his control. He eased back his querulous voice, filling it again with authority, and hints of sarcasm. "I apologize, Agent Sherlock. It was not right of me to insult your name, no matter how-unusual."
Savich looked up now at Bender, whose jaw was still so tense Savich was surprised it didn't crack. Sherlock had pushed a major leaguer nearly to blows. He looked over at Caskie Royal, sprawled back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed and indifferent, but not quite managing it. Was he still not telling the whole truth? Had he also known why Blauvelt wanted to see him? Why Blauvelt was murdered?
Savich hit a final key on MAX's keyboard, read silently for a moment, then looked up at each of them impartially, shaking his head. "Maybe this is easy, so very easy."
"What's so easy?" Andrew Toms frowned, his pen tapping against the table in double time.
Savich said, "It's on the Internet, for all to see, right up front in articles in The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times."
"What is, Agent?"
Savich closed MAX's lid, bringing all eyes to him. "Mr. Royal, I could be wrong, but from just the little bit I've read online, the stakes might be high enough."
Royal frowned, rearranged himself in his seat.
"The drug is called Culovort, and Schiffer Hartwin has been the sole manufacturer of the drug at Cartwright Labs, in Bartonville, Missouri, and in Madrid, Spain. Lately there's been a shortage of the drug, and the cause of the shortage came to light in March."
Bender said, "This drug has nothing to do with anything."
"So you know all about Culovort, do you?" Savich studied each of their faces. "This drug has been off patent for many years now, which means its yearly income doesn't add much to Schiffer Hartwin's bottom line. Still, there has been quite a stir on some of the medical blogs related to cancer and among colon cancer support groups. Enough to cause quite a stir in the organization, no doubt. Enough to interest Helmut Blauvelt?"
Toms said in his deep magic voice, "Agent Savich, there have been production problems at Cartwright Labs because of a planned expansion that didn't take into account the full impact on the worldwide supply.
"Schiffer Hartwin is working to remedy the problem and get the supply of Culovort back up to demand levels. There has never been, nor will there ever be, any hint of wrongdoing on their part."
Bender's face was flushed again, his eyes behind his cool glasses hot and hard.
Savich waved him off, never even looked at him, something he imagined would enrage the man, and addressed Royal. "I find it interesting, Mr. Royal, that production of the drug in Spain has also ceased."
There was a frozen silence until Royal burst out, "I can't-"
Both lawyers were on their feet now. "You are skirting perilously close to libel, Agent Savich. Mr. Royal has nothing to say."
Through it all, Caskie Royal sat quietly, head down. His hands, however, were clasped tightly in front of him on the table, his knuckles white, his attempt at playing the lazy lizard long forgotten.
Savich