A Subtle Line

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The case

(Tancredi)

Somewhere in the world, thousands of years ago, someone theorized capitalism. That economic theory was tested in the field and gave rise to the earliest forms of business. Some of these grew and, still in the name of theory, earned some money to put away in people’s piggy banks. An even smaller part of the others which developed discovered, one fine day, that the money box on the shelf was no longer big enough to hold all their profits, which had multiplied exponentially in the meantime, and decided to buy a bank to keep them in.

Obviously we're not here to focus on the more or less legal ways, such as usury, in which some companies have accumulated so much, but let’s bear in mind that the bigger their fortunes are, the greater are their interests.

In this sea of piranhas where everyone survives by trying to sink their fangs into the others first, there’s a pharmaceutical company Dreddson & Co. and a Dr. Francisco Alvarado.

This, at least, is Richard Smithson’s idea of how to describe legal background.

About ten years ago Dreddson, which prides itself on investing a billion pounds a year in research, had counted a promising young scientist among its ranks, paying him a salary that hovered just below the gross domestic product of the Principality of Monaco.

Francisco Alvarado, with his degree from John Hopkins University and two masters, one in gastrointestinal oncology from Harvard and the other in thyroid oncology from Cambridge, had all the right credentials to discover the cure for cancer and of course Dreddson had cultivated this passion of his for a deeply humanitarian purpose: to earn a shed load of money. Within a week they had given him a super equipped laboratory, a car, a mobile phone, and above all, a mission. Create a cancer drug to flood the market with.

The joint venture between the two was long-lasting and not devoid of satisfaction. Alvarado was progressing year after year, although the miracle drug had not yet arrived. In short, everything was going smoothly until, according to the pharmaceutical giant, Alvarado gathered up his tools and luggage and flew south of the Channel showing them a raised middle finger as his resignation letter.

Of course, the health giant had bound any discovery or finished product, which our dear Alvarado might have dug out of his volcanic brain, under an iron-clad contract, so they considered the loss of their head of research to be a problem which could be limited in some way and were not overly worried about his fate. Or at least this was before some Dreddson lab rat opened page 47 of the British Medical Journal and discovered with horror that Salus S.p.A., a pharmaceutical company operating mainly in Italy, with its head office in Naples, was about to submit a revolutionary cure for metastatic bowel cancer to the Italian forum on medical sciences.

What surprised Dreddson most, was not so much the news in itself, as the name of the doctor that Salus had appointed to do the research. Apparently Alvarado had changed country but not profession.

‘And this, in short, is the reason why Dreddson has approached us”, says Richard before downing the last sip of his disgusting coffee. I slowly cross my legs and take a deep breath.

‘Let me guess. We’ve got to prevent that drug from being marketed the Italian authorities, if it’s approved’.

‘Basically, yes. Dreddson has reason to believe that Alvarado finalized his drug thanks to the scientific results obtained in his work with them and used them to complete his research with Salus. But since those results were covered by a binding contract…’

‘...they’re automatically covered by industrial secret’, I end. Smithson nods.

‘Exactly’. I scratch my cheek distractedly giving him a suppressed grimace.

‘They might just as well have asked us to part the waters of the Red Sea’.

‘Is my favourite novice having doubts?’ he mocks me.

‘Quite a few to tell the truth’.

Richard puts down his now empty glass and clasps his hands together.

‘Go ahead, fire’

‘Firstly, it will take time. It won’t just be a case of going to Salus and asking them to stop their machinery. Normally it would suffice to enforce the patent right, but as I'm here, it must mean that Dreddson doesn’t have the patent for the entire clinical process. Am I right?’ Smithson smiles.

‘Excellent’, he replies.

‘So that means we’d have to wait for the Ministry of Health’s marketing authorisation, request an extract of the clinical process actioned by Alvarado and demonstrate that it is basically a copy of the one patented by Dreddson. How am I doing?’

‘Magnificently’, he says rocking back on his chair.

‘Then we’d have to apply to the European authorities to protect the intellectual property and the Italian ones to withdraw the drug’.

‘I sense a "but" coming’, he forestalls me.

I look at the edge of his walnut desk and consider all the points of view.

‘But it will take ages to get the clinical trial done, assuming of course that they allow it. In addition, we will have to get a private assessor to evaluate whether the medical process followed was crucial or not to realizing the drug and this involves a considerable risk’.

‘Continue’, he encourages me gesticulating with his hands.

‘Leaving aside the fact that these guys charge you for every breath they take, we’d be forced to file the results in any case, whether or not they say we’re right’.

‘Good point...’, he says mockingly. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, if I were them I’d try to manipulate the clinical process emphasizing different chemical values to the ones protected by Dreddson’s patent’.

Now Richard is grinning from ear to ear.

‘Your visceral cynicism is music to my ears’, he begins calmly. He clears his throat and starts talking.

‘Now, you’ve highlighted all the problems very precisely. Have you considered any solutions?’, he asks candidly.

‘The easiest thing would be to consider an agreement with Salus. They keep their drug, but they give us a percentage of the profits’.

‘Excellent, but for an agreement to be profitable you need something to exchange. Have we got anything to offer them, apart from our unquestioned affection?’, he asks leaning forward.

‘We could fall back on good old threats. The fear of being dragged into a billionaire lawsuit might persuade them to come to terms’. Richard closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

‘Think boy. If this drug goes on the market, there’ll be a deluge of millions raining down on them. If you were them wouldn’t you run a few risks considering that, according to you, for our own part we only have a limited patent for a process?’

‘Why do you say, “according to you”? Have we got any other cards to play apart from the patent?’

‘I’d say so’

‘What?’

‘I see you’re not listening. I told you that Alvarado spent ten years with Dreddson. Ten long years with nothing definitive to show for it’, all of a sudden the fog clears and I understand where he’s going.

‘Time!’. Richard joins his hands in approval.

‘They can’t lie about that’, I remark. I relax in the armchair for a moment and nod.

‘But why are you asking me to handle it? We’ve got Harris who’s a specialist in patent law’

‘Firstly, if we’re going to come to an agreement there’s nobody better than a young blackmailing leech with a bizarre sense of humour’

‘Are you referring to someone I know?’, I reply.

‘Absolutely not. I was speaking generally’, replies Richard smiling. ‘Secondly, Salus is headquartered in Naples and, if I’m not mistaken, that’s where you are from’.

A part of my life I have left behind.

‘But, above all, you’re the only one of my lawyers who is also licensed to practice in Italy. In case of a dispute you could do everything yourself’.

‘I see. So, what’s the next move?’

Richard reaches for his desk drawer and takes out a sealed white envelope which he hands to me.

‘Flight, hotel too, all booked. Take your toothbrush’, he answers.

I open the envelope pulling out a ticket for Naples and a hotel reservation slip.

‘When am I supposed to be leaving?’, I ask without even reading the dates.

‘Would tonight suit you?’ For a moment I hope I’ve misunderstood him.

‘Wait a minute, I’m supposed to leave tonight?’, I shout.

Richard nods raising an eyebrow.

‘On the six o’clock flight, to be precise’, he leans conspicuously towards me.

‘But I can't! I’ve got other hearings this week, I need to arrange things, my appointments ...’

‘…and loads of other crap where I can get someone to replace you. Dreddson’s a big client and I don’t want to lose them. We need to act quickly and decisively before they turn to someone else. Any other questions?’.

Miserably, I lower my head. When I left Italy years ago I always thought I would only return as a tourist a couple of times a year. I certainly did not expect my return in grand style to happen this evening.

‘Yes. Can I take my secretary with me?’

Richard gives me an evil grin: ‘You wish!’.

I shake my head again, visibly annoyed by this irruption into my daily routine.

‘What am I supposed to do once there?’

‘Do you know a certain lawyer called Ferrari, Riccardo Ferrari?’.

I shake my head again.

‘Never heard of him’

Smithson’s lips curl up.

‘Well, you’ll have to contact him. He’s the one who Salus has approached.