First Act - Kjell

  “Now that we are all present, I would like to warmly welcome you to this year’s Progress Report. It has been a successful year, that much I can say in advance. Insolvency is not currently a concern. Instead, we are on the verge of making history, dear colleagues. Sontacamid has shown promising results in the Phase 3 study so far. It appears that we are heading towards a bright future.”

  Applause.

  The executives of GlatagPharma and the attending team leaders eagerly clapped their hands together. Great, they were saving lives – the oh-so-noble goal of biomedicine. But in reality, most of them were probably more excited about the wealth and fame awaiting them.

  At least, that’s how he felt. Dr. Kjell Westerau had, at his relatively young age, more or less completed the game of life and would soon be able to enjoy a relaxed life with his girlfriend. His hard work had to pay off somehow. Maybe one day he would teach at a university or write a non-fiction book, but one thing was certain: once this project was finished, he would never stress himself again. Right now, it seemed as if Fortuna was opening all doors for this plan. Everything was going fantastically. As part of his employment contract, he had secured a 0.5% share of the net profit in the event of success. With development costs of nearly two billion euros, but an estimated revenue of 300 billion euros over the next four years, he would probably earn more money than he could ever spend.

  “Dr. Westerau, please.”

  Kjell was pulled from his thoughts. Right, he wasn’t here because he had been elevated to the elite ranks of management due to his achievements. He was only invited to these meetings every few months because he had the "honor" of explaining to these business-focused science illiterates what great work he was doing and how they could fill their pockets with it.

  These presentations annoyed him – they were utterly pointless. The board members didn’t understand his explanations anyway. These old men with their bulging bellies weren’t even willing to acquire a basic understanding of GlatagPharma’s research fields. For them, only calculations, figures, and net profit mattered. They simply couldn’t grasp that a golden goose – because that’s what the near-market-ready Sontacamid was – did not need a laxative to shit gold.

  “Thank you, Mr. Schreiger. Gentlemen, you already know me – I am Dr. Westerau, head of our Department of Molecular Genetics and Tumor Therapy. Today, I have the pleasure of informing you about the progress of Sontacamid’s market readiness. As you may know, our tumor-static agent targets a tumor-specific phosphorylation of the kinetochore protein CENP-C. The drug can be used both therapeutically and prophylactically. The synthesis of our active ingredient is cost-effective, nearly unlimited in capacity, and has a side effect profile comparable to pantoprazole. This is confirmed by our data from animal trials, Phase 2 studies, and the latest findings from the ongoing Phase 3 study. Negotiations with the EMA regarding approval are already underway.”

  The other team leaders – on paper, very good scientists – could probably still follow his explanation. But the faces of the entire board revealed a deep struggle to comprehend. He certainly couldn’t expect admiration or interest. Instead, there were occasional eye rolls, annoyed by the fact that he refused to simplify his statements in this non-academic setting.

  But since none of these top earners wanted to expose their ignorance, no one ever dared to openly complain. Questions – something you’d expect at a scientific conference – were just as rare.

  Not that he cared. As long as they did their job and made sure that an eight-cylinder luxury car was parked in front of his future villa, their incompetence was none of his concern.

  His happiness depended on Xaya – on making her happy and giving her whatever she desired. Recognition, respect, and fame were nice, but in the end, he only needed one person in this world who truly valued him.

  Besides, they only needed to understand one important thing – about the golden goose and all: Sontacamid was a near-perfect cure for cancer.

  “Thank you, Dr. Westerau. I believe we shouldn’t take up any more of your valuable time. I will follow up with you for further details in the near future.”

  Seriously? That was it?

  Even though his schedule wasn’t exactly packed at the moment, his time was still too valuable for this nonsense. He really didn’t need to be here for this.

  Kjell nodded and stood up, when suddenly, a sharp ringing cut through the impending silence.

  The phone at the head of the long conference table started buzzing with its obnoxious ringtone.

  Everyone in the room knew exactly who was on the other end of the line – and yet, at the same time, they didn’t.

  With a surprised expression, Mr. Schreiger – the man who had introduced him earlier – picked up the phone.

  Schreiger, a.k.a. "Pig Belly," was a rather peculiar character. He acted like he was in charge, but everyone knew he was just following orders from above.

  The real power lay with GlatagPharma’s mysterious CEO.

  Nobody knew much about him.

  Maybe he was a man, maybe a woman, maybe old, maybe young – maybe he even frequented swinger clubs, who knew?

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The lengths to which this CEO went to remain anonymous were almost ridiculous.

  Even if he were just a foreign investor, you’d expect him to at least say something once in a while.

  After all, the company’s stock had multiplied in value twelvefold over the past seventeen years – and Sontacamid wasn’t even on the market yet.

  Things were going exceptionally well for this guy.

  But nobody asked questions.

  And honestly? Kjell didn’t care either.

  As long as he got his substantial salary and the opportunity to achieve greatness with his research, he was happy.

  “Already?”

  Schreiger had taken the call and was now speaking to the mysterious CEO.

  In reality, a voicemail could have done his job just as well – he was nothing more than a human answering machine.

  How did someone even get a job like this? A business degree from a top university? Sleeping their way up the ladder?

  For a man in his mid-fifties, with a boar-like belly, he probably wasn’t the ideal candidate for that.

  And let's be honest, in a world full of sex-hungry men, women had an easier time taking that career route.

  But hey – as long as he didn’t mess with Kjell’s business, there was no reason for conflict.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  A very one-sided conversation.

  “Of course, of course. I will take care of it.”

  Schreiger hung up.

  “I’m afraid we will have to take up more of your time after all, Dr. Westerau. Our boss has a request for you.”

  “I understand,” Kjell replied diplomatically.

  The other team leaders exited the room, returning to their work.

  He scanned the faces of those who remained.

  Besides "Pig Belly," six other board members were present.

  Unlike in most research teams, where gender parity was common, here the phrase “members” was quite literal – there was not a single woman in sight.

  “...which is why we must postpone the market launch of our cancer drug by a few years.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Lost in thought, he had barely registered the last sentence.

  “Could you repeat that?”

  Schreiger gave him a sympathetic look.

  “To maximize our profits, the boss wants to delay the release of our developed cancer drug by a few years.”

  Kjell looked around, meeting only knowing nods.

  Of course, everyone here except him was already aware.

  But aware of what, exactly?

  The rumor that pharmaceutical companies withheld curative drugs from the market to cash in on the more profitable palliative treatments had surfaced many times. In fact, it was the most common question he was asked regarding his career path. So far, he had always responded with a smile, saying he had not yet encountered such a case. And he hadn’t really expected that to change. After all, Glatag’s product range didn’t include any real cancer drugs.

  But Sontacamid would completely wipe out all cytostatics, immune checkpoint inhibitors, and any other existing treatments. Methotrexate, Cisplatin, Nivolumab, and all the other merely life-prolonging therapies from the competition would soon become entirely obsolete.

  "The demand for our product still holds significant, untapped potential," the bald man concluded his thoughts. If Kjell remembered correctly, he was responsible for market research in some way. But increasing demand – for cancer? He really didn’t want to hear whatever shady nonsense was coming next.

  "We are telling you this in confidence, trusting that you understand the weight of this information." Schreiger took it upon himself to enlighten him. "To put it in the clearest possible terms: We will sow cancer across this world before we descend like angels from the heavens to save humanity. What are a few million when we could have billions?"

  "Oh."

  They were all completely insane.

  After studying biochemistry, he had deliberately chosen to work in Big Pharma, assuming that not everything in drug development was dictated by moral grandstanding. But still…

  Wasn’t this going a bit too far?

  Sure, unregistered animal testing, experiments on monkeys without the headache of dealing with the authorities, Phase 3 trials with patients who technically weren’t fully out of treatment options yet – that was all fine. He could live with that in good conscience, as long as the money flowed and he contributed to medical progress.

  After all, he needed the money to fulfill every single one of Xaya’s many dreams. She was a full-time artist and needed platforms to exhibit her work. But so far, her monetary earnings from it had been rather scarce. Saving money wasn’t really her thing, either. She wanted to travel the world. She wanted a big house. Ideally, she wanted a koala as a pet. He wasn’t quite on board with that last one yet. But as long as she didn’t suddenly decide to deck herself out in the most expensive designer clothes and luxury handbags, he was willing to fulfill pretty much all her wishes. That was his only real dream.

  And for that, sometimes you had to step out of your comfort zone. That was probably the prerequisite for telling someone those much-quoted words: "I love you."

  "I don’t think I understand," Kjell expressed his confusion. Depending on the position of the sun, the size of a shadow could vary enormously. Just how big of a leap were they talking about here?

  "Oh, you understand very well, Dr. Westerau. Think it over and meet me here tomorrow. This meeting is adjourned."

  Everyone except Schreiger stood up and left the conference room. Gathering his thoughts, Kjell prepared to follow suit. In about two hours, his workday would be over. Lately, though, his team had been consuming more alcohol by volume than the lab had been using buffer and solvents.

  Their work was mostly done. They were on standby in case they needed to tweak the formulation of their drug, but so far, that hadn’t been necessary. Starting a new project before their current one officially launched wouldn’t make sense. Besides, Kjell was planning to withdraw from work altogether once that happened.

  Let’s see what the others were up to. Lately, quite a few champagne corks had been popping. Drinking was always good, and if you could do it legally at work, even better. Other than analyzing study data and ongoing toxicity tests on mice, they didn’t have much to do anyway. That could very well be done within the one-per-mille limit.

  And considering that alcohol significantly increased cancer risk… well, they really didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Soon, swallowing a few pills would be all it took for effective prophylaxis – or, if necessary, an equally effective treatment.

  Just as he was about to leave the room and head towards the corridor with the labs and offices, Schreiger’s words stopped him.

  "Please wait, Doctor. The boss would like to personally address a few words to you. Naturally, this is an experience bound by absolute confidentiality. Usually, however, it is a privilege not granted to many."

  "Okay."

  Great, fantastic, amazing. This was exactly what he had always dreamed of.

  Wow, what an absolute privilege. Getting to speak with the great mastermind himself – what could possibly top that? Surely, not even the once-in-a-lifetime chance to plant a kiss on the Mona Lisa’s lips could compare… obviously.

  Was this guy going to bribe him, persuade him, or threaten him to play along with their twisted game? The conversation would probably follow exactly this classic three-act structure. But he would see soon enough.

  The phone on the desk rang again.

  As Schreiger stood up and left the room with a nod, Kjell took his time, walking over without any haste.

  Judging by what he had heard about "Pig Belly," he didn’t even want to know what had happened on that chair before. If someone really wanted to, they could probably detect a few bodily fluids on it.

  Still, he sat down on the worn-out leather, propped his feet up on the desk, and picked up the phone.

  "Dr. Kjell Westerau, Head of Molecular Genetics and Tumor Therapy," he announced himself with his usual phrase. Except, of course, he left out the company’s name. The CEO should know that one himself.

  Whether he even knew Kjell’s name, on the other hand, was more questionable.

  "I greet you, Dr. Westerau. It is an honor to speak with a man who will one day be mentioned alongside names like Koch, Fleming, Crick, and Watson. You will be remembered for a long time."