Sitting with my lime juice, I tried calling Anna again, but her phone was switched off. Thinking I was, perhaps, now getting the silent treatment, I headed back to the conference to find I was far too early for Biox’s drinks reception arranged for 7:30 p.m.
The trade exhibition was due to close at 7:00 p.m., but with a few people still hanging around, I took another stroll through.
One company that caught my eye was Livingstone Pharmaceuticals.
Two of their salesmen were packing up for the night, so as soon as they’d departed, I walked over. The Livingstone News sheet was lying on a coffee table. I picked it up.
The front-page photo showed Livingstone staff handing a cheque to someone for some good community cause - the caring, compassionate and charitable side of Livingstone. I opened the second page and read:
“Livingstone Pharmaceuticals have recently appointed Shah Medicals to market the new Histocytex range in parts of East Africa.
This has followed two years of successful cooperation within marketing Clarion Hand Creams, Clarion Skin Care, and Mentha decongestants range.
Shah Medicals is fast becoming a well-known name in international pharmaceutical sales and distribution under its banner of Shah Corporation. Already well established in the Middle East, the
company has several branches in Southeast Asia and plans to increase its marketing activity in East and West Africa. Ties with Livingstone will enable Shah to grow its African operation from its base in Nairobi, where it now has its own research facility and regional base for all types of medical product licensing and trials.
The article closed with a photograph of the Shah Corporation’s chief executive - a smiling Mr Mohamed Kader.
I’m usually good at remembering faces, and I was sure I had seen the man before. On the other hand, he looked similar to thousands of middle-aged men from the Jordan or Iraq area. I was no expert in the pharmaceutical industry except through a counterfeit job we’d once had for an Italian drugs company but I pocketed the news sheet for no other reason than that Livingstone was a new name. I then joined Biox’s drinks session where I drank orange juice. An hour later, John and Walt began to mention a conducted tour of Bangkok bars and I was to be their guide.
***
It was past midnight when we got back to Walt’s hotel close to the conference centre.Midnight is not late for Bangkok, but Walt had shown signs of exhaustion before the evening had even started. After three hours of cruising noisy bars, he was all in. John, though, was still going. But it was in one particular bar that Walt had spotted someone he knew and, above the loud music, shouted something into my ear, “Say, Mike.
See those guys over there.” He nodded towards the other end of the bar where two men were engaged with two attentive young ladies.
“On the trade stand near ours - Livingstone Pharmaceuticals - you know the company?”
I shook my head but was, nevertheless, interested in what might come next. Walt looked like he had more to say. He shouted into my ear again. “I think the older guy must be the owner, Greg O’Brian. I’ve only ever seen a photo of him. By reputation, he’s a rogue and
normally keeps a low profile, but he stepped in a year or so ago when Livingstone when it was up for sale. He now owns it.”
“Go on,” I shouted back.
“Yeh. Livingstone is a strange company. It’s an old business based in New York that started out doing consumer products but moved into pharmaceuticals. I suppose that’s why they’re here. Someone told me they’re moving into East Africa – Kenya - which is a bit unusual for a pharma company at their stage. The guy with O’Brian is their international sales manager.”
Walt then stopped. He was sitting on a hard stool that was far too small for his size and weight. “Hell. I’m too old for this,” he shouted.
“Can’t hear yourself think.” He paused, nodding towards John Wardley, who was clearly enjoying the night. “But I suppose you don’t come in here for serious discussions.”
“Why don’t we leave John here, Walt,” I said. “He’s a big boy. How about a drink somewhere quieter?”
“Sure thing,” Walt replied. Then he tapped John on the shoulder.
“We’re off. The English doctor says you are to be a good boy. OK?”
I was pleased to leave. Anna wasn’t there, but she was spoiling my night, if you get my drift. I hailed a taxi. With Walt slumped into the well-worn rear seats and with the taxi’s air conditioning slowly reviving him, we stayed silent and looked out of the window.
Suddenly, though, just as I thought Walt might have fallen asleep, he mumbled something, so I turned to look at him.
“Funny you should know Guy Williams and David Solomon,” he said with his chin embedded in his chest. “No one has mentioned them for a while.” He paused. “You’re not really a doctor, are you?”
I was a little taken aback but tried not to show it. “What makes you say that?” The weakness of the words was a real give away. Inwardly, I cringed and waited for the next question. Frankly, though, I was not too bothered. Walt and I had only met that morning, but I felt comfortable with him. Coming clean may not have been a bad thing.
Walt was obviously far from asleep. “Several things really,” he replied. “For one thing, Guy Williams was gay.” He stopped to wait for the point to sink in. “You shared a girlfriend, Dr Stevens?”
I waited.
“And gut feeling,” he said. “You don’t have the right image. Most of us in this game don’t go far. You’ve been around.” Walt then turned to look directly at me. “Am I right?”
“Quite right,” I said.
“Then what the fuck are you up to?”
It was my turn to look at the passing night scenery: a peaceful black sky shot with reflections from below - multicoloured advertising, street lighting, and a predominance of red brake lights from stationery, jam-packed vehicles ahead. And this was midnight. Did they never sleep? I looked back at Walt to find he was looking straight up at me. His chin was still resting on his chest, and his greasy brow wrinkled with accusations.
“Frankly, Walt,” I said, “I, too, am looking for explanations.
Someone’s lost something so valuable they’re paying me to find it. I can’t tell you much. It’s an industrial secret, but I’m beginning to think there might be a connection between those two missing characters and what they’ve lost.”
I stopped, handing the initiative back to Walt. It was his turn.
“So, what’s your real name?”
“Just call me Mike, for now, OK? I can’t divulge more right now, but I sure could do with some help.”
I looked out of the taxi window again, doing more self-analysis, asking questions of myself, and checking my direction and strategy.
What sort of help was I after? I wasn’t sure. Yet here I was sitting at the back of a Bangkok taxi on the verge of pouring my soul out to a competitor of my client. Had I gone raving mad? The answer to that was no. Walt was OK. If Walt was OK, then Biox was OK, and Virex’s problem was still in safe hands. So comforted, I said, “Are you awake enough to share a last beer or a coffee with me?”
Walt nodded into his chest. “Sure. I suddenly feel wide awake again.”