Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake (17 page)

Minnie needed coffee before she could even begin to process this unexpected turn of events. She dressed quickly and dashed over to the diner. She delved into her bag to retrieve her phone to send a quick message to Angie but her friend had beaten her to it. A Skype message popped up immediately.

Angie Buckingham:
You went dark (worried face). What the hell happened?

Minnie Chase:
Tasered. Arrested. Jailed (sad face)

AB:
Thank God. I thought something serious had happened! 

MC:
I’m okay (smiley face)

AB:
So what really happened? 

MC:
Tasered. Arrested. Jailed (blushing face)

AB:
(Speechless face)

MC:
Then Greene dropped the charges

AB:
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MC:
I’m back on the outside now (thumbs up)

AB:
Holy. Shit. TASERED?

MC:
(Nodding)

AB:
As in stun gun?

MC:
(Nodding)

AB:
*?*%! Are u okay?

MC:
(Nodding)

AB:
Can I call u?

MC:
In a diner. Noisy

AB:
Hurt? 

MC:
Post Traumatic Taser Syndrome 

AB:
Bastard!

MC:
I deserved it

AB:
Like how?

MC:
I turned up at his house. Bad surprise 

AB:
So he turns a friggen TASER gun on you?

MC:
He didn’t. His security team did 

AB:
Hello? Garden hose?

MC:
Preferable (nodding)

AB:
Please come home

MC:
He wants to see me. Tomorrow…

AB:
Greene?  

MC:
Yes. Left a message at motel reception

AB:
Oh no you don’t!

MC:
I think I should

AB:
Because?

MC:
Unfinished business

AB:
Yeah, like a pistol-whipping?

MC:
I’ll be careful

AB:
Be smart!

MC:
Be home soon (kiss)

AB:
Better be (hug)

Minnie took the tram to the south side of town. Harbor Heights, the exclusive members only club that not so long ago had declined Minnie’s application, now opened its doors to her. It was an anonymous building with a small street number engraved onto a black-metal letterbox. Number 109.
Good
, thought Minnie, when she noted the zero was contained between the 1 and the 9. Minimising disaster in any which way had to be a good thing.

A member of staff asked her to follow him through the empty corridors, leading her into a quiet private dining room that had no natural light, or other members of the public for that matter. It was almost bunker-like in its design and would probably provide shelter in air-raid attacks. 

Harbor Heights was either so exclusive that no one could afford the membership or so discreetly situated on the street that no one could find it – the place was deserted. The decor showed all the trappings of excessive wealth but it had all the ambience of a morgue.   

The usual Greene Inc entourage was milling about. The Dragonets looked like black crows pecking about in a field. There was a lot of strutting and posturing involved. Massive biceps falling out of T-shirt sleeves. Ten thousand men to protect one man. She was nervous, very nervous. The Taser experience wasn’t easily dismissed.

Minnie was shown to the far-corner of the room where some of the most-trusted inner circle of Greene Inc sat at a table with Greene himself. Levchin was also present in his expensive suit, hands resting on his cutlery, looking as hungry as Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

Minnie approached the table with a degree of caution. She was starting to feel like this wasn’t a lunch meeting, it was more like an ambush. 

Greene rose from his seat and indicated that Minnie should take the seat opposite him. It felt as though she had entered an interrogation room, soon to be handcuffed to the table.

Greene spoke first. ‘Please, sit down.’

He sat down once Minnie was in her seat. 

She was brought a drink that she didn’t ask for. 

Within seconds Minnie knew that Greene was not going to mention the Taser incident that had unfolded on his front lawn. Without doubt he would have found the whole ‘zapping’ incident distasteful, not to mention the inconvenience of a helicopter redistributing gravel across his lawn and windows. 

He didn’t ask how she was. She hadn’t expected sympathy or even an apology but she did think the incident was too enormous to ignore. Greene, apparently, thought differently.  

This infuriated her but she didn’t let it show. Greene wasn’t the only one with a poker face. 

As expected, with someone like Greene, there was no polite preamble, it was straight to business. 

‘You’ve met Dr Levchin.’

The doctor’s reddish plump lips parted but he offered no audible welcome. Minnie was totally thrown by the cold atmosphere and the total lack of personality around the table. She directed her attention towards Levchin’s Champagne glass attempting to calculate the speed of individual bubbles as they fizzed to the surface.

Greene suddenly pushed a sheaf of papers across the table in Minnie’s direction. ‘Confidentiality agreement,’ he said curtly.

Minnie stared at the paper mountain in front of her.

He added, ‘It’s just procedure.’

When Minnie didn’t answer, a member of his staff interjected briskly. ‘Please sign on the line.’ 

Someone actually wrapped her fingers around a pen.

‘What are we being confidential about?’

‘Me,’ said Greene. He made ‘me’ sound like a planet.

‘I’d like a lawyer to go over this first,’ said Minnie, putting down the pen, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. 

There was a long-haul pause. Minnie felt a spasm of cramp and uncrossed her legs.  

Levchin was staring at her, astonished that she hadn’t done what she was told. Minnie didn’t like the drop in temperature around his eyes. 

Greene looked unfazed.

Levchin then looked over at Greene as though to get permission to speak. Greene nodded, which suggested that the paperwork could wait.

True to style, for a quiet man, Greene did a good job surrounding himself by people who liked to talk. Levchin needed no encouragement to open his mouth. After all, it was what he was paid for. He immediately launched into a dreary monologue about the effects of levodopa therapy and foetal tissue transplantation. He paused to remind Minnie that he was also an elected member of the Institute of Medicine and one of the world’s pre-eminent clinical researchers when it came to Parkinson’s.

Minnie blinked several times. Unexpected tiredness took on the form of spiders spinning webs at the periphery of her vision. She could feel her eyelids dropping. She was exhausted. Levchin was taking an inordinately long route to get to his point.

Greene, meanwhile, was unreadable, more interested in the thread count of the table cloth than what Levchin had to say, seemingly unperturbed by the monologue.

Levchin paused and leaned forward, a little closer to Minnie. ‘I hear you’re quite the expert on Parkinson’s.’ 

Minnie gave a start. ‘I’m not an expert,’ she said.

Levchin feigned puzzlement. ‘But you diagnosed Mr Greene?’

‘I suggested a machine algorithm that searches for faults in people’s voices.’

‘A
machine
algorithm,’ repeated Levchin in a mocking voice. ‘It sounds as though I have some serious competition. Am I to become…’ he pressed a finger to his lips and looked overly pensive, ‘… redundant?’ 

Minnie opened her mouth to speak but Levchin talked over her. ‘Who is going to need an esteemed neurologist with
years
of experience in research and clinical trials not to mention a library of published papers when one can simply make quick voice recording.’ He snapped his fingers aggressively. ‘Problem solved!’ He looked at Greene and pulled a face. ‘Man against machine.’

Greene remained impassive. 

Minnie didn’t break eye contact with the doctor. She said, ‘As I said, I’m not an expert.’

Levchin smiled and said, ‘I glad you are aware of that.’

It was a dangerous crocodile smile.

Greene dismissed his security team all but one – the biggest one. The chosen one planted himself firmly in the corner of the room while the other Dragonets marched out in single file. Greene, Minnie and Levchin remained at the table. Food had been discreetly placed in front of them. Minnie hadn’t looked at a menu or ordered. She studied her plate. There was possibly a small piece of black cod underneath the bubbles of decoration. Nothing else.

The conversation took a new turn. Levchin decided to get to the point.

‘Parkinson’s is not easy to diagnose,’ he said, ‘which may come as a surprise to those who think a quick vocal recording can nail down a serious neurological disease.’ He paused and stabbed the fish with his fork and wolfed it down. ‘Stress often triggers symptoms synonymous with Parkinson’s,’ he continued, chewing and talking at the same time. ‘Dizziness, shortness of breath and shakiness occur when one is subjected to a challenging environment.’ He jabbed his fork in Minnie’s direction to get his point across. ‘Someone with a nervous disposition will experience hand shakes. We know that people literally tremble with nervous tension. It is the physical manifestation of the flight-or-fight dichotomy. These symptoms are an ever-increasing presence in our adrenalin-driven world.’

He put down his cutlery and smiled condescendingly at Minnie. Minnie glanced over at Greene who hadn’t touched his food. She knew that the man in charge of Greene Inc was a commanding figure who brokered deals with panache and boldness. He was an audacious and supremely confident presence in the business world and yet, here, now, Levchin was attempting to pass him off as someone with a nervous disposition.

‘You are stressed. You
don’t
have Parkinson’s?’ asked Minnie directing her question at Greene.

Greene said crisply, ‘According to Dr Levchin.’

‘I have prepared a paper addressing the matter,’ said Levchin, keen to take back control of the conversation. ‘You will issue a public apology and endorse this paper on stress.’

‘Endorse it?’ she asked.

Levchin visibly bristled. ‘Yes,
endorse
it. This support will override the nonsensical claims made – the nonsensical claims
you
made – against Mr Greene. He has been working extremely hard and is merely stressed. He is now taking time out to rest and will return stronger and more dynamic than ever.’

‘Have you been paid to write this paper by Mr Greene’s office?’ questioned Minnie. 

‘What relevance does this have?’ Levchin was looking increasingly exasperated. He obviously hadn’t expected resistance.

‘If you were paid, you should disclose this information,’ said Minnie. ‘People need to be aware that it was a commissioned piece.’

‘It is an expertly researched document.’ Levchin was seething now.

Minnie was also starting to feel angry. She was angry at everyone: James George for cheating on her, Greene for not asking how she was feeling after being Tasered and locked up, and, now, Levchin was belittling her and wanting her to lie. 

She snapped, ‘What do you get out of this?’

Levchin glared at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I can understand why Mr Greene would like everyone to believe he has stress instead of Parkinson’s but what’s in it for you?’

‘I
help
people.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with the fact that generous contributions from Greene Inc will
help
to roll out more luxurious Levchin Care Clinics across the world. Additional publicity too. Your accountants are certainly going to be busier.’

There was a stunned pause. Greene didn’t react but she had touched a nerve with Levchin. 

‘How dare you suggest such a thing,’ he whispered.

‘I’ve gone over the figures carefully,’ said Minnie. ‘Private Parkinson’s retreats appear to be very profitable.’

‘What the hell are you suggesting?’ Levchin banged the table with his fist and the cutlery jumped.

‘How much of the money is actually channelled back into medical research?’ asked Minnie.

‘Miranda.’ Greene cautioned her. He didn’t need to use more than one word to get his point across.

Minnie persisted nonetheless. ‘Profit and loss is my speciality.’

‘And neurology is my speciality,’ shouted Levchin, failing to control his temper. ‘Shaking is one of the most common symptoms of anxiety.’ He breathed deeply and attempted to compose himself. ‘Too much caffeine can also cause the shakes. Do you drink a lot of coffee, Mr Greene?’

Greene nodded.

Minnie swivelled in her chair so she could directly look at Greene, deliberately turning her back on Levchin. ‘Have you had a second opinion?’

Greene stared at her. His handsome face showed tired lines around his eyes. He didn’t answer her but Levchin seized the moment to fill the silence.

‘You make an enormous fuss about wanting to help Mr Greene. You use me to get into his home. Then you start running amok in his garden like a lunatic, which, well, we know how
that
worked out for you. It’s time you actually did something worthwhile, which is why you are going to endorse this paper. You’ll also make a public apology, which will include a confession that it was a dirty tricks stunt to embarrass Mr Greene and jeopardise a business deal. Go on, admit that your claims at The Savoy Hotel in London were unfounded, speculative and deeply defamatory.’

Minnie was dumbfounded. ‘I want to help Mr Greene. I can and will help him see the natural gas deal through to completion.’

Levchin wasn’t finished with his list of demands. ‘You will also discredit the ridiculous dial-a-diagnosis experiment or whatever you call it that purports to diagnose Parkinson’s through voice recognition.’ His eyeballs bulged. ‘I’ve never heard such utter nonsense – it diminishes the painstaking research progress we have made over the years!’