The Copy: A Suspense Legal Thriller Novella by Grant Boshoff

Author:Grant Boshoff [Boshoff, Grant]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JEFF SAT AMID a vortex of paper, sick to his stomach.

In his mind he tried to play out the last eight years as if he'd lived them. How could Geoffrey have gone so far astray? Would he have done the same, had the roles been reversed? But he had, hadn't he? It was him who'd started down this path, making decisions based on his own experiences and ambitions. How could he have chosen differently? The circular logic did nothing more than give him a dull headache and a cold lump in his throat. The papers around him began to lose focus and he jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed as hard as he could stand.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Jeff's head snapped around to find Geoffrey standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

"I'm going through the clinical trials."

"How the fuck did you get in here?"

Jeff squinted up at him. "Are you serious?"

"I changed all these codes last year."

Jeff stared at him blank-faced, a storm of emotion roiling just below the surface. Would he really have turned out this way?

"Whatever!" snapped Geoffrey, waving a hand in the air. "Answer the damn question."

"Which question? What the fuck I'm doing or how the fuck I got in here?"

Geoffrey took a reflexive step toward him. A brutal flash of anger washed over his features for a second, then he went completely still and stood looking down at Jeff, seemingly inanimate save for the steady tick of his jaw muscle.

Jeff looked right back at him wondering if he had even an inkling of what was going on behind those eyes. Again he wondered if this was the man he would have become had the roles been reversed.

Geoffrey finally broke the silence. "Why are you digging through my papers?" His voice was cold and flat.

"I was bored. You left me here all night, remember? And, quite frankly, I'm glad you did." He reached for a stapled sheaf of papers and shook them in the air. "Clinical trial number six, forty percent miscarriage rate in the test group."

"That was early on," snapped Geoffrey.

Jeff tossed the sheaf at Geoffrey's feet and hefted another. "Number nine, thirty seven percent miscarriage."

Tossing it at Geoffrey, he scooped up another and flipped through the first few pages.

"Number twelve, three deaths during delivery," he said, flapping the sheaf in the air. "How do you explain that?"

"They're experiments, Jeff! That's why we test. To work out the kinks."

"Kinks? Three mothers dead, Geoffrey. You call that a kink?"

"Yes I do. And so did you before."

"Has the FDA seen any of these results?"

"Of course not."

Jeff swung his arms across the piles, scattering sheafs of paper in all directions. "Forty six clinical trials and only one without complications? Only one the world will ever see? That's not science, Geoffrey!"

"Oh please, Jeff! Don't be so fucking obtuse - it really doesn't suit you. You know perfectly well how this game is played."

Jeff buried his face in his hands, elbows on knees, and began a low keening moan.

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