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“What’s this thing called that you’ve cooked up?” The man to Brandon’s right asked.
“We’re calling it MK875,” Piper said.
He shook his head. “That’s not a marketable name.”
“Yes, sir, you’re right. A few things. First, we’re not marketing it to anyone. A very small population with this mutation will use it. MK875 simply indicates what generation this particular formulation is within the research. My father started right after his PhD when Lionel opened the lab for him downstairs. I think whatever pharmaceutical company produces this will want to give it its prescription name.”
“You’re having a pharmaceutical company produce this?” The man on Brandon’s right swung his gaze around the table, and Piper wondered why they never introduced themselves.
For security’s sake, they didn’t post pictures or names on their website, so Piper called everyone “Sir.”
“We’re not doing it?” he asked Ria.
“I hadn’t considered you doing it.” Piper paused and blinked. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to go to that kind of expense to set up production on this drug. There are liabilities to consider in safely producing pharmaceutical products. There are far more safety protocols than are necessary for your cosmetics.”
“But this ‘right to try’ step puts the medicine into humans, and that would lead to the FDA’s approval, making this a prescription that a doctor can write,” Brandon said.
“That would give us data for the FDA to review,” Piper said, choosing her words carefully. “And the end result, we hope, will be as effective in humans as it is in our lab.”
There was a sense of levity in their postures that Piper didn’t understand.
Their eyes twinkled with excitement, and Piper was confused because she’d always felt like Oliver Twist coming with her bowl: “Please, sir, can I have some more?”
That was overly theatrical. That wasn’t how it had been.
They were bored and irritated to have disease brought up in their presence. Lionel had made this his special project, and the others went along with it begrudgingly.
“I can go into the details in a much deeper way if it interests you,” Piper offered.
“I’m not interested,” Brandon said. “Are you?” His gaze moved from executive to executive.
His mom shook her head. “I heard what I needed to hear. Why are you making this presentation today?” she asked Piper.
“I need to work with a pharmaceutical manufacturer who can produce the drug. This next step will need increased financial resources.” Her voice was a mouse.
Everything rode on their saying yes.
“Lionel mentioned it last time I talked to him,” Ria said. “This next step is very important to his vision,” she shot a secret smile to her fellow executives before bringing her gaze back to Piper, “of a cure.”
They all knew something Piper didn’t.
This felt like a trap.
Piper was about to come straight out and ask them what was going on when Lionel’s PA crashed the door open.
Phone resting on her upturned palm, her gaze swept the room and landed on Brandon. “It’s Mrs. Amanda Harcourt. Amanda’s been kidnapped,” she gasped out.
“Kidnapped?” Ria came to her feet.
Brandon accepted the phone. “Amanda? It’s Brandon.”
The PA moved to the corner, ready to help but sinking out of sight.
As he listened, Brandon covered the phone with his hand and told the table. “This isn’t Amanda calling with ransom demands.” He pulled his hand away. “Kidnapped? She was kidnapped?”
The room filled with a dense energy that Piper found difficult to breathe through.
Brandon looked up, taking in his fellow executives and landing on his mother. “Amanda was kidnapped from Tifton Manor.”
