FanStory.com - The Devil Fights Back by Jim Wile

FanStory.com
"The Devil Fights Back"

Chapter 1
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 1

By Jim Wile

Note to readers: This story is a sequel to my previous novel, Duel with the Devil. It won’t be necessary to have read that novel to understand what happens in this one. I’m writing it with new readers in mind.

Chapter 1

Charlotte, North Carolina
October 2025

Fran

As I downed my second double Stoli on the rocks, I looked up when I heard, “Mind if I join you, hon? You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

The author of this remark was an attractive woman in her late 50s with shoulder-length, brown hair.

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

I was sitting at a table by myself in the bar of the Westin Alexandria hotel. I gestured to the seat across from me. She set her drink down, sat, extended her hand, and said, “Dana Padgett.”

“Nice to meet you, Dana,” I said, shaking her hand. “Fran Pekarsky.”

“Husband trouble?” she said, probably having noticed my wedding ring.

“No, nothing like that. He’s a rock. This is job-related.”

“What do you do, Fran?”

“I’m an IT security consultant.” This is a lie. I’m really an FBI field agent, but there are strict rules about divulging that information. In short, you don’t in casual conversation. And, of course, you never divulge anything about the work you are doing unless it is already public knowledge.

“So let me guess,” said Dana. “There’s some sort of computer virus wreaking havoc at some company, and you’re having trouble discovering its source?”

She’s amazingly close to the real problem—in theory, if not in practice. “Have you ever heard of kudzu, Dana?”

“Kudzu? Like the plant?”

“Exactly. Kudzu was brought to the United States in the late 1800s by a man named Frank N. Meyer. I believe a more fitting last name for him would have been Stein because of the monster he inadvertently created. He discovered it on his travels to Asia and brought samples back with him. People believed this fast-growing vine would be the perfect solution to prevent soil erosion. They also admired it for its attractive foliage and thought it would make a good ornamental vine. What poor Frank didn’t know was that this vine was pernicious and grew like a weed, taking over everything in its path and crowding out other species.”

“So, you’re faced with something spreading like kudzu, and you don’t know how to stop it.” She stated this as a fact, not as a question.

“Yep.”

“What’s the standard protocol in a case like that?”

“Find the bastard responsible and find out how he did it.”

“So how do you go about finding this bastard who’s responsible for spreading the ‘kudzu?’” she said, using air quotes.

“I have my suspicions, but that’s all they are at this point. I’ve got to figure out a way to confirm them. But that’s enough about me. How about you, Dana? What do you do?”

“I’m the assistant marketing director for Newman-Price Pharmaceuticals. I supervise all those pretty young things who advertise and sell our products to doctors, hospitals, and pharmacies.”

A little sexist perhaps to describe her pharma reps that way, but this gave me a clue about her personality. She seems like an unfiltered sort, the kind I actually admire in the politically correct environment of today.

This is something of a coincidence, though. Of all the fields she may have been in, it’s the one most closely related to my current problem. Strange! This triggered a thought that was only tangentially related to my mission and would be okay to discuss with her.

“Let me ask you: What do you know about a new painkiller that’s been discovered called Glyptophan? It’s supposedly non-addictive and promises to replace opioids. It’s just completed phase-1 human trials now.”

“I don’t know too much about the science behind it; that’s a little above my pay grade. But I do know that, if successful, it stands to put a major dent in my company’s business, as well as several other major pharma companies. Opioid painkillers are a big part of what we produce, and although we’ve been working on a drug like this because of all the problems with opioids, we are nowhere close to developing something like Glyptophan. The inventor is not too popular with us right about now. How do you happen to know about it?”

I didn’t want to divulge that it was my own brother who invented this drug. I was certainly proud of him and didn’t mind sharing this fact with most people, but she had just told me it stood to put a big crimp in her company’s business, and it just didn’t seem appropriate to go bragging to her about my brother.

I questioned her about it because I’d heard rumblings that Big Pharma was not at all pleased, and I wanted to get it right from the horse’s mouth. I suspect there might be some trouble bringing it to market and that there will undoubtedly be major efforts expended to discredit it.

In answer to her question of how I knew about it, I said, “I just happened to read an article online and wondered if it was the real deal.”

“Well, if it is, it will be one of the most sought-after drugs in existence. I only wish our company had gotten the license to manufacture it if it proves successful. I believe some small company here in North Carolina got it. Lucky bastards.”

Yes, indeed. If successful, the drug should be worth billions to them.

The conversation lightened considerably after that, and we discussed things such as our husbands and their foibles. My husband, Mike, is a Homeland Security agent, so I was not at liberty to disclose that either, and said he was a lineman for Duke Energy. That’s the story he’d told me when we first met. I did, however, admit to his propensity for talking with his hands and getting very loud when he’s excited about a topic.

Dana is married to an investment banker who is a wine snob and, she said, makes the greatest show of ordering and tasting an expensive wine whenever they go out. To rub it in, she will often order a glass of the cheapest wine on the menu, just to watch his reaction.

Neither of us have kids. I am 40 years old and a little past my prime in that department, and Mike’s and my careers just weren’t conducive to raising a family.

I’m content to be an aunt, for that’s what I recently became since my brother Brian and my sister-in-law Julia, who we call Jules, gave birth to a baby boy in January. Johnny is now nine months old.

By the third double Stoli, I was finally feeling relaxed, which is something I haven’t felt since my troubles at work began. Dana and I told a few jokes, and the conversation was perfect to help relieve the funk I had been in.

“You know, Dana, this has been great meeting you. Thank you for stopping by and helping me take my mind off myself for a while.”

“I think the Stoli might have had more to do with it than meeting me, but I’ll accept your thanks. It was great meeting you too, Fran. Let me give you my business card. If you’d like to get together again, it has my phone number on it. I’ll be staying here another couple of days while my husband attends a conference.”

“I’ll give you mine too,” I said, as I dug a bogus one out of my purse. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

We said goodbye, and I left her there in the bar before taking the elevator back to my room on the eighth floor.

As soon as I got back to my room, the fatigue hit me. This has been a rough week full of surprises and thoughts that plague me. I undressed and stepped into the shower.

As the warm water cascaded over me, I tried to clear my mind by thinking of Dana and some of her funny stories. She’s a bit irreverent and sarcastic, but at the same time self-deprecating. She may strike some people as caustic and not afraid to say what she’s thinking, but I liked her honesty and sense of humor. I sensed a certain vulnerability about her too, as if when she was younger, she was hot stuff but had been taken down a peg or two by events in her life. Despite our age difference, I think I’ll definitely call her tomorrow. She was interesting and fun to talk to.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped my dirty blonde hair, which was just beginning to show a few grays, in a towel and began my fairly brief nighttime routine. I’m a big woman, and my looks are unremarkable. I’m extremely fit, though, which is essential for my job.

I was once a sheriff’s deputy, then a detective back in my home county in central North Carolina. Twelve years ago, I completed my college degree and joined the FBI. I’ve been a field agent in the Charlotte, NC branch ever since—until a few days ago when I was suspended.

Although physically tired, my mind wasn’t ready yet to give in to sleep, and, as I lay down on the bed, I began replaying the scene that gave rise to my suspension.

Author Notes CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of a new non-addictive painkiller.

Chapter 2
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 2

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 1: Fran Pekarsky, an FBI field agent, finds solace in a bar in Charlotte, North Carolina. Dana Padgett, an older woman, joins Fran at her table because she appears to need some companionship. They get to discussing their jobs, although Fran must lie about her real job, claiming to be an IT security consultant. In couched terms, she describes an event that is spreading like kudzu that is troubling her.

Dana is the assistant marketing director of a Big Pharma company. Fran asks her about a new opioid-like painkiller that is non-addictive and is currently being tested, and Dana tells her this new drug, if successful, would put a big dent in her company’s profits. Fran doesn’t reveal that the drug, called Glyptophan, was invented by her brother.

Later, back in her room, Fran muses about what’s troubling her, and we learn she’s been suspended from the FBI.

Chapter 2

Fran

It had been a typical Monday, and I was at my desk, researching a known link to a Mexican cartel responsible for smuggling fentanyl into the country, when my boss, whose name is Lou D’Onofrio, entered my office and said, “Francine, please follow me.”

I was leery of his tone. He was one of the few people who addresses me as Francine. To most, I’m just Fran, or Agent Pekarsky, or, to some old timers, Agent Fuckup.

This endearing moniker was given to me by my first partner on an assignment when I was a boot right out of Quantico. It wasn’t because I was known for fucking up, but rather because my initials are FKP for Francine Kendrick Pekarsky.

In fact, if anyone was a fuckup, it was him, the chauvinist asshole. Unfortunately, he called me that in front of others, and the name stuck for a while until the time I saved his ass in a gunfight, and everyone knew it. Although I’m rarely called that anymore, there are still a few old timers who do, but it’s more from affection now. They know what a competent agent I am. I’ve proven it enough times, and I no longer take offense to it.

I followed Lou to his office, and seated there at a conference table were two agents from the Inspection Division, whom I had previously seen from their occasional visits to the branch. The Inspection Division of the FBI is the equivalent of Internal Affairs in a police department. I don’t know these agents’ names, but they always come together, and some wit in the department began calling them Thing-1 and Thing-2.

Lou sat down next to them and gestured for me to take a seat opposite the three of them. My pulse quickened. I had no idea what this was about, but the stern expressions on their faces were not a good sign.

Thing-1 began. “A new opioid has recently been found on the streets of eight major US cities. It goes by the name of Dipraxa, or just Dip for short. It’s a pill.”

I was stunned by this revelation. My heart began pounding now, and my throat dried suddenly at this news.

Thing-2 continued, “Six months ago, you provided the FBI with a drug, also called Dipraxa, to use on a captive who subsequently gave up information that led to the quashing of a major weapons sale. Could you tell us how that came about?”

I looked inquiringly at Lou. This information was highly classified and not to be shared, even with the Inspection Division, unless they were authorized to hear it.

Lou said, “I’ve seen the authorization to divulge this information. You are to answer their questions.”

I asked to get a glass of water before beginning. This was to give my heart a moment to slow and to add a little moisture back to my throat.

Once seated again, I began. “You are correct. I had been assigned to a special task force to try to coerce this information from the captive, but our methods to date had proven ineffective since the rules of enhanced interrogation had become so stringent. Torture was off the table, but I had a sudden brainstorm at a meeting of this team, and I informed the attendees that I knew of a substance that could be more carrot than stick and that could get him to talk.”

I took another sip of water and continued.

“The idea was that we would give him a newly developed opioid that was extremely addictive because of the immense euphoria it induces. Once he was addicted, we would withhold it, and he would give up the information we sought to be provided with more of the drug. It was that pleasurable and addictive.”

Thing-1 looked puzzled. “Granted, it would cause pleasure, not pain, but wouldn’t withholding it cause withdrawal symptoms that would be considered torture? How did that ever pass the smell test?”

“The drug is psychologically addictive but not physically addictive. There are no physical withdrawal symptoms when you stop taking it. You will mentally crave it, but that soon passes and leaves no permanent psychological scars.”

“How did you know about this drug, Agent Pekarsky?” asked Thing-2.

This drug, Dipraxa, with the same name as the one now found on the streets of major cities, was the precursor of Glyptophan, the one Dana and I had been discussing that has just completed phase-1 human trials.

“My younger brother, Brian Kendrick, invented it at home in his own laboratory. He didn’t start out intending to invent the ultimate opioid. He is a neuroscientist who suffered from chronic back pain due to an injury he sustained in a car accident when he was 16. He became addicted to OxyContin that was prescribed to him. In the next few years, he suffered two overdoses and nearly died both times.

“Thereafter, it became a goal of his to study biochemistry in college and learn enough to create a non-addictive painkiller. Dipraxa was the result. He tested it on himself, and it worked perfectly until it didn’t. At the correct dosage, it cured his pain without producing any euphoria—the thing that makes opioids so highly addictive.

“But one day, he accidentally took a double dose, which passed a threshold, and suddenly, he experienced the greatest euphoria he had ever felt, even on high doses of Oxy. It’s probably the most powerful psychologically addictive drug ever invented, and it turned him into a zombie. Once he began taking it, that’s all he wanted to do, and it was nearly impossible to stop. I say nearly, because he was able to quit with the help of his gem of a wife.

“Once he overcame the addiction, he figured out the problem with it and created version two—Glyptophan—which solved the euphoria and subsequent addiction problems, making it a highly potent pure analgesic that can target specific chronic pain such as back pain. That drug is currently undergoing human trials.”

Thing-1 said, “How did you convince your brother to give you some of the original drug, Dipraxa, without breaking confidentiality and telling him why you needed it?”

“I couldn’t at first. He wouldn’t give me any unless he knew what I wanted it for, and I wasn’t willing to tell him the reason.”

Lou broke in, “We received the necessary authorization to share the reason for it with Brian. Agent Pekarsky did everything by the book.”

I continued, “Only the team of agents assigned to the case and my brother knew about the decision to use Dipraxa, and I became the interrogator of the captive. It worked perfectly. We were able to extract the necessary information, which enabled us to catch the bad guys and prevent the weapons sale.”

No one else was ever supposed to know about this drug and what it was capable of. I even warned Brian once that if it got out to the general population, it would spell doom for mankind. He is an extremely disciplined and conscientious individual, and it nearly ruined him. Imagine what it would do to someone less motivated than him.

I knew what was about to happen now.

Thing-2 said, “Agent Pekarsky, our forensics lab has verified that the street drug Dipraxa is the exact same formulation as what you and your brother provided to the FBI. This drug is so widespread that we can only conclude a major producer has the formula. It’s beyond the scope of what your brother could produce in his home lab.”

Lou said, “Agent Pekarsky, I’m suspending you pending an investigation into how this happened. You are not to become involved in this investigation in any way. You will now turn over your firearm and credentials to me.”

I had known this was coming as soon as I heard that a drug called Dipraxa had been found on the street, and I set my gun and credentials on the table. “Sir, I understand the need for this, but let me assure you, my brother and I had nothing to do with it. I wish you would let me help investigate.”

Lou softened a little. “Look, Fran, you’ve worked for me for a number of years now, and you’ve proven your merit time and time again, but surely you understand the conflict of interest involved if you were assigned to investigate. You cannot be involved in this. I can’t emphasize that enough. This will be a paid suspension of indeterminate length. You are still employed as an FBI agent and still bound by all the rules and regulations pertaining to your position. Are we clear about this?”

“Yes, sir.”

So, what am I going to do with my time now, just days after that meeting where I was suspended? Why, investigate, of course.

Chapter 3
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 3

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 2: Back in her hotel room after meeting Dana in the bar, Fran thinks back on her suspension from the FBI: She is summoned by her boss, Lou D’Onofrio, to his office, where two agents from the Inspection Division are there to question her. They tell her a new opioid-like drug called Dipraxa has hit the streets of eight US cities. Fran is shocked because this was never supposed to get out. She explains to the agents that she was part of a task force that used this drug to elicit information from a captive. It was invented by her brother and is highly addictive. It was the precursor to Glyptophan that Fran had discussed with Dana, and Glyptophan had solved the euphoria and addiction problems that Dipraxa has.

Lou suspends her pending an investigation as to how it got out. He tells her she must not involve herself in the investigation due to conflict of interest. The chapter ends as Fran decides to investigate anyway.

Chapter 3

Marie

“For Christ’s sake, Corinne! No vibrato here in measure 20. This is a baroque piece. Just straight tones.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Schmidt. I just forgot.”

Did I detect a slight smirk on her face? No respect from these young ones. “And drop the ‘Dr. Schmidt.’ It’s just Marie. We’re not so formal here in these rehearsals.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Smartass. She does it to needle me.

I’m the principal second violin of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. That means I’m the leader of the second violin section. Big fucking deal! I should be a first violin. In fact, I should be the concertmaster because I’m better than that old fart. But he’s held the job for the last hundred years or so and plans to drop dead before he’ll ever retire.

That’s the thing about musicians in a major orchestra. Once you receive tenure after about three years of probation, you’ve pretty much got the job forever unless you really start screwing up.

It’s not like it was in high school where you could challenge someone for their chair. Auditions for chair placements are periodically held, but that’s only within the section, so there’s no way for me to become a first violin, no less concertmaster, unless a specific position opens in that section.

In the 13 years I’ve been in this orchestra, there have been only three retirements among the first violins. I auditioned each time for the positions but got beat out. They’re supposed to be blind auditions, meaning they can’t see you while you’re playing, but I’m convinced they know who’s playing, and that’s what’s holding me back. They don’t like me. Well, screw ‘em. I still make decent money, and I get to command these idiots in my section.

“Alright, folks, let’s take it again from measure 16, and no vibrato this time.”

When the section rehearsal was over, we were done for the day, and I headed back to my upper west side apartment just a few blocks from Lincoln Center, where we play. As I approached my apartment building, our new doorman saw me coming and opened the door for me.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Schmidt.”

He’s a young fellow and has only been employed here for a week or so. “It’s Dr. Schmidt, as I’ve told you before.”

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry. So, what kind of doctor are you? No, let me guess—pediatrician?”

He must be joking. Another smartass. “Does this look like a doctor’s bag?” I said, pointing to my violin case. “I have a doctorate in music. I’m a musician in the New York Philharmonic.”

“So, what do you play? No, let me guess. I’d say… you’re the tuba player.”

That’s actually amusing, considering what I’m carrying. I’m quite small and slender too. I don’t think I could even lift a tuba. I know he’s joking. I think I like this kid.

“Uh, close. I play the violin.”

“Darn. That was my second choice.”

“I’m sure it was, Cecil.”

“It’s Cedric, ma’am.”

“Whatever.”

I waited what seemed like ages for the elevator to my apartment on the tenth floor. I began punching the button again after a minute. I know it doesn’t do any good, but it feels good to do it. So does cursing at it. When it finally arrived, I stepped in, and naturally, it took forever for the door to close again. I started hitting the door-close button, and nothing happened. I realized I’d been hitting the door-open button by mistake. Can’t they use better symbols on these damn buttons? Finally, it closed and started up.

Once inside my apartment, I headed right to the liquor cabinet and made myself a martini. Very dry. I downed it fairly quickly and made another.

While I was pouring the second one, my cell phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number that said the call was from North Carolina. This was October of an off-year election year. I got the occasional political call, but nothing like last year, so I decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mother. It’s Julia.”

I was silent. What do you say right off to your daughter, whom you haven’t spoken to in 13 years? Oh, I’ve kept up with her a little from afar, but I haven’t seen her in person nor communicated with her in any way since that one afternoon in 2011 when she was a sophomore at Juilliard.

At the time, the bad feelings had been building for a while between us, and we finally had it out that afternoon. She cursed me and stormed out with her drug addict boyfriend, and that was that.

I’ve had years to brood about it, and I still feel justified in what I said to her. She was throwing her life and talent away with that boy. She was a drug addict herself, and I could just picture the two of them bringing each other to ruin together. She was so talented and deserved much better.

I had trained her in the violin since she was three years old. She was superb—a more natural and gifted player than even me, although I never told her that.

And this boy was corrupting her. Why, he even took her bowling, and she smashed her finger right before her audition for Juilliard. I mean, really. Bowling?

My husband and I divorced about a year later, and we’ve occasionally talked in the intervening years. He fills me in on what she’s been up to. Plus, I’ve heard about her enough through my job—enough to know that she’s doing alright for herself.

I’ve occasionally been tempted to pick up the phone and call her, but those hateful words at our parting have always held me back. And she’s never called me either… until now.

“Hello, Julia. Is it your father?”

“No. He’s fine. Mother, I want to invite you to the christening of Brian’s and my baby son, John. Your grandson. He’s nine months old now.”

I haven’t spoken to her father in over a year, so this I hadn’t heard about. I knew she married that boy, Brian Kendrick, and they were living in Charlotte, but this was news that I’d become a grandmother.

I didn’t know what I was feeling right now. God, I needed another martini!

“Mother, I’ve thought about our last time together often over the years, and I think maybe it’s finally time to try to get past it. There’ve been some major changes in Brian’s and my life lately, and I’m ready to put aside the differences you and I had. I think you might enjoy getting to know your grandson too.”

“When is it?”

“It will be on Sunday, November 9—about two weeks from now. I checked the schedule of the New York Philharmonic, and there’s nothing going on then. I hope you can come.”

Would I go? Should I go? I don’t know yet.

“No promises, but text me your address in case I can make it.”

“I will. I really hope you decide to come, Mother.”

“We’ll see.”

Chapter 4
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 4

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 3: We meet our third main character, Dr. Marie Schmidt, who is a violinist in the NY Philharmonic Orchestra. She is a snob, crude and impatient, and a thoroughly unlikable person. Following a section rehearsal, she returns to her upper west side apartment, where she receives a phone call from her estranged daughter, Julia. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in 13 years following a falling-out they had when Julia was a college sophomore.

Julia is married to Brian Kendrick, who is Fran’s brother, and now has a nine-month-old baby who will be christened in two weeks. Julia extends an invitation to Marie to attend the christening and to try to mend their relationship. Marie is unsure if she will attend but asks Julia to text her her address in case she does.

Chapter 4

Fran

Sleep continued to elude me as I worried if I had the right guy in mind responsible for Dipraxa’s appearance on the streets. My boss, Lou, had told me to stay away from this investigation. I have great respect for him and usually follow his orders, but you don’t become a top agent without occasionally disobeying your boss. I’ve learned that it’s sometimes better to ask forgiveness than permission. Unless you’ve got a real by-the-book hardass for a boss, this can often work in your favor. Lou hasn’t come down too hard on me for this in the past because it usually has led to a break in a case.

So, when suspicion falls on me and it comes to a question of my integrity or that of my brother, I’m willing to disobey orders. Plus, I’m pretty sure I know how this release of Dipraxa to the general population might have happened. I think there’s a mole in the FBI, and I strongly suspect who it is.
Since so few knew about the decision to use Dipraxa to extract information from our captive, the most likely candidate would be from those assigned to the task force. I knew all of them from having worked various assignments with them over the years.

There were two other possible candidates who also knew about Dipraxa—the head of the Charlotte office forensics lab and a good friend of Brian’s who helped him develop the theory behind the drug. I would add them to the list of suspects if need be, but I had a much likelier candidate in mind to investigate first.

Kevin Glazer, who also worked out of the Charlotte field office and was on the task force with me, was my first choice. About a month after the successful completion of the Dipraxa op, my husband Mike and I were celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary with a special night out at Ruth’s Chris Steak House in Charlotte. We had a table by the window in front, and I was glancing out the window when I saw Kevin exit from a Porsche 911 that he’d pulled into the valet drop-off area. He was wearing what looked like a very expensive tailored suit, and he escorted a beautiful young woman into the restaurant.

Kevin was a GS-13-level agent who probably made $80k a year. He was divorced and often complained about the alimony he had to pay. Plus, he had a kid in college. He wasn’t rich by any means, and what I observed was incongruous. The Porsche 911 is a $100k car. But maybe he had recently come into an inheritance. Or perhaps he had even borrowed the Porsche and the suit from a friend to impress the woman. I didn’t give it any further thought at the time, but a few days ago, while thinking about possible suspects, this event came back to me.

Kevin was smart enough not to drive the Porsche to work or wear his fancy suit, but five months later, I now had my suspicions about him. Plus, I never particularly liked him nor had much respect for him as an agent. He was sloppy and lazy. Not that that would make him guilty of passing classified secrets, but I couldn’t think of a more likely candidate on the task force than he.

Although I had some computer skills, I needed the help of an expert to confirm my suspicions. I certainly couldn’t ask anyone at my office for help, so I thought of a friend of mine, Patty Mattson, who I’d originally met at college. As it turns out, she is a real IT security consultant, like the kind I told Dana Padgett I was.

We see each other often, and she knows I’m an FBI agent. I remember well the conversation I had with her over lunch just a few days ago because it struck me what a loyal friend she is.

“Patty, I’m in trouble at work. I can’t tell you the details, but I’ve been suspended pending an investigation. I can’t just sit around, so I’m investigating on my own, although I’ve been forbidden to do so. I have a strong suspicion who’s responsible, but I need help proving it and clearing my name of any culpability.”

Patty is an attractive blonde, who is a southern belle type. Her looks and her strong yet endearing accent belie her extraordinary hacking skills. She’s certainly not the stereotypical image of a speed-typing, socially inept, computer geek you see in movies. She is deliberate and genteel and very sweet.

“Ah’m so sorry to hear about your troubles, sweetie. What can ah do to help you? You know ah will if ah can.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t done many times before, and with your skills, I’m sure you can do it anonymously. I don’t need you to hack into any secure government databases or anything like that; I just need someone’s private cell phone call log from their cellular company.”

“We’ll get this figured out. Don’t you worry. We’ll just go back to ma office after lunch and get you what you need.”

I was on edge, but we had a pleasant lunch together. Later, back at her office, I gave her the name Kevin Glazer, and she was able to produce the list I needed, complete with the names and addresses of the other parties, within 10 minutes. She’s incredible.

“Thank you so much, Patty. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. You’re an amazing friend.”

“Oh, sweetie, bless your heart. This was nothing. Don’t trouble yourself about it. Ah just hope you find what you need from it to clear yourself. You let me know if you need anything else.”

That evening, just three nights ago, I found what I needed to confirm my suspicions. I was looking for an incoming call from a northern Virginia area code shortly after the conclusion of the task force. Sure enough, there was a call from a Brittany Edwards of Springfield, Virginia about two weeks later.

I looked Brittany up on social media and found out that she worked at the US Patent and Trademark Office, or the USPTO, whose central headquarters was in Alexandria, Virginia, just a short commute from Springfield, where Brittany lived. This is exactly what I was hoping to find because, from talking with my brother, I was positive the patent office was the only other reasonable entity that knew about Dipraxa.

Brian had originally filed a composition of matter patent with the USPTO for Dipraxa after his initial testing of it. This was before he had begun testing it on himself. Once he realized how harmful it was, he rescinded the patent, but that wouldn’t erase it from their database.

My guess is that Kevin Glazer figured out there might be a patent for it. He either already had a contact in the USPTO named Brittany Edwards, or he made her acquaintance with the intention of using her to get him a copy of the Dipraxa file. From the information I had given the task force, he knew the name of the drug and that my brother, Brian Kendrick, invented it. This much would enable Brittany to locate the patent file.

But Kevin made a serious mistake. He should have had Brittany call him on a burner phone instead of his regular phone, but he was far from the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he was sloppy, as I said before.

Then again, I might have been totally wrong about him. It wasn’t conclusive proof by any means. Britanny might have been an old friend or girlfriend who just happened to live near Alexandria, but my instincts told me no. The fact that she worked at the USPTO is what clinched it for me. It’s what I was hoping to find, but to prove that it wasn’t just confirmation bias, what I really needed was direct evidence of the crime.

I had a basic plan for tomorrow, but it would be risky, and I might not even find what I’d be looking for. The uncertainties behind the plan were what kept me awake, and I continued going over the details in my mind until I eventually drifted off.

Chapter 5
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 5

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 4: Fran decides to ignore her boss’s orders and begins to investigate on her own. She has a theory of the case and visits her friend Patty, a computer expert and hacker, who provides her with a list of phone calls for Fran’s chief suspect, Kevin Glazer.

Fran discovers a call to Kevin from a woman named Brittany who works at the US patent office, which confirms Fran’s suspicion that that’s how the secret of Dipraxa had gotten out—from Brian’s initial patent on it. Fran surmises that Brittany copied Brian’s patent file and gave it to Kevin for money. Kevin probably then sold the secret to an interested buyer. Now she must come up with a plan to prove it.

Chapter 5

Dana

When Fran Pekarsky left the bar, I decided to have one more drink before leaving myself. I signaled to the waitress for another cosmo. It would be my fourth. I needed to be a little drunk to be in the mood for the return of my likely randy husband in an hour or so. He was out with some of his friends from the conference this evening, probably at some titty bar where he’d be getting himself worked up for later.

Although I’m still reasonably attractive for a 58-year-old, he looks well beyond his 60 years. His hair is thinning rapidly, and, as his hairline retracts, his belly expands. We used to have pretty good sex together, but it’s no longer a high priority with either of us most of the time. Tonight, though, will likely be an exception, at least for him, so I must prepare for the ordeal.

It was nice to spend time with another woman. I enjoyed Fran’s company and was happy I was able to help lift her mood. I’m not sure I believed her story about being an IT security consultant. She didn’t look the part at all. She was quite buff, and I could tell she was packing* from the slight bulge beneath her jacket. I notice these things because I pack myself.

None of these little cans of mace or pepper spray for me. Some guy attacks me—I plan to disable him permanently. I think she was a cop of some sort, probably a police detective, maybe even a Fed.

And that question about Glyptophan. That was out of the blue. Funny she should have mentioned it, though. I knew a fair amount more about it than I let on.

My company, Newman-Price, is one of the five largest pharmaceutical companies in the US, but our financial picture isn’t so good right now. In the past year, two of our biggest sellers were banned by the FDA for a string of deaths in each case. Our legal staff spent a fortune in attempting to prove these deaths were not caused by the drugs but were due to other risk factors and comorbidities in the patients who died. They may have even been right about that, but the end result was that both drugs were taken off the market.

One of our vice presidents came to the marketing department the other day and sat me and my boss down with the following announcement:

“Look, guys, there’s a new analgesic drug called Glyptophan that just passed phase-1 trials with flying colors. This drug promises to replace opioids as the number one painkiller for severe pain—both acute and chronic. We can’t let that happen. We just lost our top two sellers, and our opioid is now our number one seller. If we lose that, we’re going under.

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do: I want you to instruct your sales reps never to mention Glyptophan, but if their customers bring it up, they are to say that the side effects from the human trials were terrible and that the drug will never make it through the human trials and come to market.”

I interrupted him and said, “I read about that trial. According to the article, all 80 participants experienced tremendous pain relief, and the side effects only began at the highest range of doses. Isn’t that to be expected in the phase-1 trials of any new drug? That’s one of the main purposes of the phase-1 trials—to see what the maximum tolerable dose is.”

“Whose side are you on, Dana? I know that, and you know that, but our reps and our customers don’t need to know that. As far as they’re concerned, they just need to know there were bad side effects. That’s all I want the reps to say, capisce?”

He left then. I turned to my boss and said, “That’s awfully devious, even for him, don’t you think?”

“C’mon, Dana. That’s the only way to succeed in this business. We’ve been beaten to the punch, but we’re not going to go down without a fight.”

“That’s just—”

“Look, Dana. To quote a famous slogan: ‘Just do it.’”

I knew then that if I wanted to keep my job, I had to comply. It’s no wonder Big Pharma has the reputation it has.

When I finished my fourth drink, it was time to head up to my room. Now I finally felt numb enough to face Romeo when he returns in a little while.

Marie

After some real soul-searching, I decided I would make the trip to Charlotte to attend the christening of my grandson. What did she say his name was? John? I think that was it. How original! Probably one of the most common names there is if you include all the Juans infesting the country now. I wouldn’t mind if that orange-haired dictator in the White House kept that particular promise—to round ‘em up and send ‘em back. Not just the Juans, of course, but all of ‘em. I didn’t vote for the man, but I sure agree with that policy.

My phone pinged then, indicating a text. It was from Julia, who just sent me her address and a few details about the christening.

That’s another thing. When did she get religion? She never got it from her father and me. I’ve always been an atheist. Robert claimed to be agnostic. Must have been that drug addict husband of hers who brainwashed her. And now they’re going to fill that poor child’s head with a bunch of religious nonsense.

Look at that address too: 1441 Mauney Farm Rd. in Cherrywood, North Carolina. Where the hell is that? They must’ve moved from Charlotte. I had to look the place up on Google Maps. I opened the app, typed in the address, and switched to satellite view. Holy shit! The place is out in the boonies! Is that a barn just down the road?

I zoomed in on their address and switched to street view. I was surprised; their house is actually pretty nice for a locale like this! It looks new and modern and large. Here in New York, say, in Westchester, that house would cost around $3 million. I wonder what it’s worth down there? I know Julia makes a good income as a soloist, but this house is something else. She’s just full of surprises. Maybe that addict husband of hers is a big-time drug kingpin now.

Well, I guess I’ve made up my mind to go. My curiosity has gotten me, if nothing else.

I used to be the concertmaster of the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra for a number of years before moving to New York, so I thought I knew the area pretty well. Their home isn’t too far from Charlotte, but I’ve never heard of this dinky Cherryville. Why on earth did they choose to move there?

Several days later, I texted Julia back and told her I’d be coming. I sent her the trip itinerary and told her I’d rent a car at the airport. It’s 30 miles from the airport to her house—too far for an Uber. She offered to pick me up at the airport, but I said no. I may want to visit a few old friends while there, so a rental car would be best. I planned to stay for a few days.

Julia offered to have me stay at their house, and I did take her up on that because there are no decent hotels anywhere near Cherryville.

I’ve decided I will be gracious when Julia apologizes to me for what she said 13 years ago. I guess there’s no point in carrying this on any further, and maybe it’s time for a reconciliation after all.

In two weeks, I was packed and ready to go. I planned to stay with Julia for three days—if we could last that long together.

I phoned Cedric at his desk downstairs.

“Yo, Ms. Schmidt.”

“It’s Dr. Schmidt, Cecil.”

“It’s Cedric, ma’am.”

“Whatever.”

This is a little game we play now. “Did you get me the cab like I asked last night. I’ll be down shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s waiting for you now.”

“Make sure he doesn’t leave, would you?”

“I’ll plant myself in front of it, Ms. Schmidt.”

“Thank you, Cecil.”

Author Notes * packing - a common term for carrying a concealed gun

CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Thing-1 and Thing-2: Two agents from the FBI's Inspection Division, the FBI equivalent of Internal Affairs.

Kevin Glazer: Fellow FBI agent whom Fran suspects is a mole who stole the formula for Dipraxa.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Picture courtesy of Playground-v3

Chapter 6
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 6

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 5: Dana reflects on what a good time she had talking to Fran, although she suspects she isn’t an IT security consultant, but a cop or a Fed instead. She also wonders about Fran’s out-of-nowhere question about Glyptophan. We learn that Dana didn’t share all she knew about it, as she thinks back on a recent visit by a vice president of her pharmaceutical company. He had instructed her to tell her sales reps to essentially lie about it and tear it down because of the economic threat it poses to their company if successful. Dana is very conflicted about this.

We then switch to Marie who has decided to accept Julia’s invitation to the christening of her grandson, Johnny. She plans to stay with Julia and have it out about their estrangement from each other 13 years ago. She expects Julia to apologize to her for the hurtful things she said at the time, and perhaps then they can put it behind them.

Chapter 6

Fran

At 7:30 AM, I parked my car half a block down from the apartment building in downtown Charlotte, where Kevin Glazer lived. The residents parked in a lot next door, and I had already spotted his car when I drove through it a few minutes ago. I would wait until he left for work before going up to his apartment and breaking in.

Brittany Edwards, who worked at the patent office, had made a number of calls in the intervening months since that first time, so I figured this was now a routine thing. She was probably stealing patent info regularly for Kevin, and he would need a secure way to get it to his accomplice wherever that might be.

I was hoping to find a satellite phone in his apartment, with which he would receive his instructions and send his stolen data. Satellite phone calls are capable of being highly encrypted and are much more secure than cellular calls. I was also hoping to find the Dipraxa files somewhere on his computer.

Fortunately, I didn’t have too long to wait for Kevin to leave for work, and I observed his car drive out of the lot a few minutes after 8:00. I was wearing a jacket that advertised an appliance repair company, and I carried a toolbox, pretending to be there to repair an appliance, should anyone see me in the hall in front of the door to his apartment. I also brought a laptop with me that I’d secreted beneath my jacket.

I had a set of lockpicks in the toolbox and was able to pick the lock and let myself in within just a few minutes. I was interrupted twice by residents leaving for work, but when I would hear a door open, I simply stopped working on the lock and would knock on the door as if there for a repair.

Once inside, I looked around the apartment. It was huge. Beautifully furnished, with an industrial feel to it, it was definitely a high-end, man’s apartment. It had a home theater with expensive electronics and even a golf simulator in one corner.

I found his home office with his desktop computer, and, searching through the desk, I found what I was looking for—a sat phone. I was immensely relieved.

I needed to access the call log on the phone, and I used the laptop to download it via a USB cable. I had brought a variety of USB cable types with me for this reason. I found the right one, made the connection, and performed the transfer.

Next, I needed to copy the contents of his computer’s hard drive or SSD drive to my laptop to see if Patty and I could locate the Dipraxa files. That would be the most incriminating evidence I could find.

Copying the contents of his storage device would entail breaking into his computer. Fortunately, it was an older one that didn’t use biometric authentication such as fingerprinting, face, or voice recognition; it simply needed a 4-digit PIN to gain access. This could be anything, but Kevin was 60 and old-school and probably used the same PIN for everything.

I looked through his desk for a list or file of login information. Sure enough, in his bottom desk drawer, I found a card file containing user IDs and passwords for a number of websites. There was nothing written down for the computer itself, but after looking at a few of the cards in the file, I detected a pattern he sometimes used to generate passwords.

He would take the company name, capitalizing the first character, append a 4-digit number (the same number on every one—probably the PIN number he uses for everything), and then a special character—either an exclamation point or a question mark—to complete the password. For example: Amazon4178! Not a bad way, really, to help you remember passwords, though certainly not very secure.

I was sure the 4-digit number would be the one he used to unlock his computer. I entered 4178 and voila; I was in. Oh, Kevin, I thought, shaking my head.

I used a different USB cable to connect his computer to mine and initiated the file transfer from his SSD drive. This took some time. Meanwhile, I traipsed around the apartment. He had some expensive stuff. His home theater contained a state-of-the-art 80-inch QLED TV and some very sophisticated-looking sound equipment. His Scandinavian-style furniture looked new and very modern. Kevin obviously had money now, very likely from the sale of the Dipraxa files to a buyer from who knows where? Hopefully, the sat phone data would reveal that.

The data file transfer to my laptop was done in 20 minutes, so I packed everything up, put the sat phone back where I found it, and headed out.

This had been much easier than I anticipated—not worth all the worrying I did about it. I still needed to verify that the proof was now on my laptop, and I would need Patty Mattson’s help. This would be enough to take to Lou D’Onofrio. It would clear my name from suspicion and Brian’s too, and it would end my suspension. I would let Lou deal with the legal ramifications of how I got the incriminating data and let him worry about nailing Kevin.

When I paid Patty another visit to help me determine what I had, I had to fill her in on a few details about my activities today. She was able to find files containing the name Dipraxa in an encrypted folder. We looked at a few of them, and it became clear this was part of the patent package Brian had sent to the USPTO when he filed his patent. Perfecto!

She was also able to view the call log from the sat phone. There were not that many calls on it, and as a result of its infrequent use, the log went as far back as the end of the task force where Dipraxa was used. The calls began a couple weeks later. Due to the encryption, Patty couldn’t decipher the specific numbers the calls were from and to, but she could determine that the source and destination were somewhere in China. A heavy weight settled on my chest with this news.

China is the world’s leading producer of illegal drugs like fentanyl. China is also our number one enemy. The drugs they produce are smuggled from there into Mexico and then to the US. This is what I now believe was happening with Dipraxa.

“Patty, I can’t thank you enough for assisting me in this. You’ve just helped me and Brian protect our good names and probably saved our careers.”

“Oh, Sweetie, what are friends for? Ah’m glad ah was able to help you find what you were looking for. Ah couldn’t bear their thinking you were complicit in this. Or Brian either. Now you go and nail that guy who’s the real culprit.”

“I’ll be bringing this to my boss tomorrow and hopefully get my gun and creds back. Couldn’t have done it without you, my dear.”

“Oh, bless your heart.”

I gave her a hug, and we said goodbye.

I called Lou when I got back to the hotel after leaving Patty’s office.

“Lou, I’ve got the proof that exonerates me and my brother and nails the guy responsible.”

“Oh yeah? What took you so long?”

I was speechless for a moment.

“Francine, I knew you would jump right on it. I don’t know why I bother giving you orders; you never obey them.”

“Well, occasionally I’ve been known to—”

“It’s more than occasionally, but we don’t need to quibble about that right now. Do you have physical proof?”

“More like digital proof.”

“Who was it?”

“Kevin Glazer.”

Lou paused for a few beats. “I guess I’m not that surprised. He’s certainly a more likely candidate than you. Alright, bring it in tomorrow at 9:00, and I’ll take a look at it.”

“Thanks, Lou. I think we have a bigger problem, though, but we can discuss it when I see you tomorrow.”

“Tell me now.”

“You’ve seen how psychologically addictive Dipraxa can be from when we used it on our captive. It was the same for my brother when he experimented on himself. The problem is that Kevin sold the Dipraxa patent information to China—our number one enemy in the world. I think this has now become a matter of national security. I’m sure their intent is to spread this as widely as possible among our population. As addictive and disabling as it is, this country will eventually come to a complete standstill as a large portion of the population will be in complete thrall to this drug. The euphoria it produces, as described to me by Brian, is like no other and borders on feeling like a non-stop orgasm. Not quite as intense, but somewhat. I think this would spell the end of the US.”

“We’re in deep shit, aren’t we? Alright, we’ll discuss this further tomorrow. I think we’ll get central headquarters in on this as well, and you can define the problem to them. Francine, good work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I got off the phone with Lou, I realized I had dodged a bullet. It’s a good thing I found the incriminating evidence, or this suspension might have become permanent. Finally relaxed about my immediate situation, though not so much about the long-term implications, I decided to give Dana Padgett a call as I told her I would yesterday.

We agreed to meet for dinner in the restaurant at 7:00. It was 4:30 now, and I was beat. I hadn’t slept much last night for worrying, and it caught up with me. I decided to nap for a couple of hours back at the hotel.

Mike is away on a mission now, and the only reason I’m staying at a hotel since I live here in Charlotte is because my hardwood floors are currently being refinished, and I had to remain out of the house for at least 48 hours. I’ll be checking out and going back home tomorrow, but I’m happy to have met Dana through this experience and look forward to meeting her again for dinner. Who knows? I might even find out a little more about Big Pharma’s plans concerning Glyptophan.

Chapter 7
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 7

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 6: Fran breaks into Kevin Glazer’s apartment to try to find evidence of his malfeasance. She discovers a satellite phone that she suspects he’s been using to send and receive calls from a buyer for not only the Dipraxa formula but other patents he has stolen with Brittany Edwards’s help at the patent office.

Fran downloads the sat phone call log and Kevin's computer data to her laptop, which she brings to her hacker friend, Patty Mattson, to see what they can discover. Patty helps her find the Dipraxa data on the computer in an encrypted folder and also finds out from the sat phone call log that the calls were to and from China.

Fran calls her boss, Lou, at the FBI and tells him she’s found the culprit, but she also reveals that they have a bigger problem now because the Chinese are the ones responsible. She agrees to meet Lou to discuss everything the next day.

Chapter 7

Dana

A few minutes past 7:00, I spotted Fran as she entered the restaurant and waved her over to the table. She was smiling. She’s rather large and no raving beauty, but she was attractive tonight, wearing a fashionable sage-colored dress with low heels. She wore a little makeup too.

“You look like a different person tonight, Fran. Did you catch your kudzu planter?”

“I caught him alright. Now I just have to figure out a way to stop the kudzu from spreading. But one step at a time.”

“That’s the ticket.”

Our waitress came by and took our drink orders, and we ordered some bruschetta to share for an appetizer.

“So, where’s hubby tonight?” Fran asked me.

“He’s attending a banquet with his banker friends, or a ‘Bank-quet’ as they advertised it. They’re such a clever bunch,” I said with a smirk. “It sounded pretty boring to me, so I begged off and accepted your invitation instead.”

Fran smiled. “I’m glad you did. You were like chicken soup for the soul last night.”

When our drinks arrived, I said, “Here’s to new friends and chicken soup,” and we clinked glasses.

“You know, Fran, I wasn’t completely forthcoming about Glyptophan when we discussed it last night. I was even a little surprised when you mentioned it because it’s been weighing on my mind recently.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“It’s created a moral dilemma and has further added to some misgivings I’ve been having about my company lately.”

“How so?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Big Pharma sort of deserves the poor reputation it has of only being concerned about the bottom line and doing whatever it takes to make it as large as possible.”

“That is the picture most people have of it. Like what sort of things?”

“Well, like spreading misinformation about a competitor’s products.”

“That’s pretty common in more than just the pharmaceutical industry. Is it different somehow when you guys do it?”

“Kind of. In our case, it can sometimes mean life and death, or, in the case of Glyptophan, it’s a quality-of-life issue.”

“Can you be more specific?”

I paused for a few seconds, weighing the matter. “I really shouldn’t discuss this with you, but you know what? Fuck it. I’ve been pretty disillusioned with them lately. I’ve even been thinking about quitting.”

“Over what?”

“Lots of things, but most lately this: I think I told you the inventor of the drug was not too popular with us because he’d beaten us to the punch by a mile with his new drug. My boss wants the pharma reps to lie about it and tell our customers, if they ask, that Glyptophan is having all kinds of problems with side effects during testing and that it’s unlikely it will ever be approved by the FDA. I’d be pretty pissed if I were that inventor and found out that was going on.”

“Oh, he fully expects that sort of thing.”

I looked at Fran quizzically. “You say that as if you know him personally.”

“I should. He’s my brother. I didn’t tell you that last night, because I didn’t want to rub it in that he had developed a drug that would likely make your company suffer financially.”

“Hmm. I wondered why you were curious about it. Now it makes sense. YOUR FRIGGIN’ BROTHER INVENTED IT! Wow, you must be proud of him. From what I’ve heard, the phase-1 trial went smashingly well, and everyone who took part had incredible pain relief.”

“It’s true. Brian’s very encouraged by it.”

“I also heard that he developed it by himself in his own home lab and that he doesn’t work for anyone. How could he afford the expense of that? Are you guys really rich?”

Fran chuckled. “I’m not, but he sure is now that he has a licensing agreement with Detry Pharmaceutical. They paid him a fortune for the right to manufacture the drug if it passes all the human trials. He just got a big bonus for a successful phase-1 trial. But they didn’t give him any money until he’d already developed the drug and the FDA approved it for testing. He built the lab in his home with the money he and his wife had saved.”

“His wife must have had a lot of faith in him. I’ll bet that made a significant dent in their savings.”

“She’s an absolute gem. Her name is Julia Kendrick. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?”

I shook my head.

“She’s a world-famous violinist who tours the globe as a soloist with big-name orchestras. Makes damn good money doing it. Of course, that’s on hold now because she became a mommy this year and will be staying home with the baby for some time.

“She’s amazing, though. About a year ago, she joined this little bluegrass band as its fiddle player. She plays the banjo too, and they have a few gigs around the state from time to time. Can you imagine that? This world-class soloist, playing fiddle in a little bluegrass band. I love her.”

“She sounds very special.”

By this time, our food had arrived. I’d ordered Chilean Sea Bass, and Fran had ordered some sort of pasta dish that looked very tasty. We both dug in, and the conversation halted for a few minutes until Fran said, “You sound like an ethical person, Dana, who’s in a job that’s leaving you very conflicted.”

I smiled and shook my head ruefully. “That certainly hasn’t always been the case. I’m what you’d call a late bloomer in the ethical department.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“It’s a long one, and if you’re interested, I can give you a few of the highlights. But it’s not pretty.”

“I’m interested.”

She did seem genuinely interested, so I began. “I live and work in Philadelphia now, but I grew up in Butler, Pennsylvania. It’s a small town near Pittsburgh with no claim to fame except that Trump nearly had his head blown off there at a campaign rally last year.

“When I was a kid, I thought I was really hot stuff. I was the queen bee who all the cool girls and boys wanted to be friends with. But we were a mean bunch, and all through school, even through high school, we picked on kids who weren’t in the in-crowd with us.

“There was this one girl I grew up with named Abby St. Claire. She was a scrawny little redhead with freckles and glasses. None of the kids in my crowd, or any crowd really, liked her. She was incredibly smart, but she was also modest about it and wasn’t a showoff. Still, we were jealous of her intelligence and never gave her a chance. We laughed at her and gossiped about her. We were real shits towards her.

“One day in seventh grade, a new kid came to school, and he befriended her. This kid stuttered, and we used to tease him unmercifully too. But they started going together.

“Then one day in ninth grade, my mother took me to an ice skating show, and there was this couple of kids who did an ice dancing routine together, and they were fantastic. The girl was beautiful, but they were wearing costumes, and I didn’t recognize them until they’d finished the routine and she removed her turban. This red hair came spilling out, and I suddenly recognized her. It was Abby and that boy who was now her boyfriend. She must have been wearing contact lenses, and she’d blossomed into a beautiful swan.

“A few weeks later, my friends and I saw them skating on a public pond where we used to skate, and I purposely bumped into her. She fell and broke her wrist, and her boyfriend laid into us. He really shamed me. After that, we left her alone.”

Fran sighed. “Well, we live and we learn.”

“Yeah, but not fast enough.” I stopped for a moment to take a few bites and collect my thoughts for the next part. “I married the captain of the football team soon after high school, but we split up a few years later. It wasn’t a good marriage, and we both cheated on each other.

“I moved to Pittsburgh and became a real estate agent. I was pretty hot in those days and used my natural assets, if you catch my drift, to get some big commissions. I was very successful at it and met my second husband that way. But he turned out to be a louse too, and that marriage lasted only a year.

“Then I moved to Philly and got another real estate job. That’s where I met my third husband. I guess third time’s a charm because we’re still together. Eventually, we moved to Altoona, PA where we joined a country club. Who do I run into there but Abby St. Claire, my childhood target? I hadn’t seen her in 20 years. She’s married with two kids and very successful as the manager of an actuarial department at an insurance company. She was also a damn good golfer. We played together, and she beat me pretty handily.

“I still hated that girl. She was good-looking, and successful, and a terrific golfer. I was good, but not as good as her.”

I stopped for a moment and said to Fran, “This is sounding pathetic, I know. It gets worse. You sure you still want to hear it?”

“Sounds like we’re coming to the good part. Please go on.”

I took a few more bites of the sea bass before it got too cold to eat.

“I happened to notice her daughter, who looked just like her as a kid, practicing on the range. She had a funny swing and wasn’t that good. Then a couple weeks later, I saw her practicing again, and her swing had transformed completely. She was now striping every shot. It was amazing. It was summer, though, and she had on long clothes that covered her body. It was weird, and I suspected something fishy.

“I followed her into the locker room, where she removed this strange-looking body suit that was under her clothes. When she was showering, I stole it from her locker and took it home. I figured this was some sort of training device that improved her swing. I tried it on and tried it out. It was amazing. The damn thing guides you through the swing electronically somehow. You just start back, and it takes over and helps you make a perfect swing.

“I signed up for the club championship and made it to the finals, where my opponent for the final day was Abby. I used the suit to play with, which is strictly against the rules of golf, but I really wanted to beat her. I ended up winning the championship, beating her by a single stroke.

“Later that night, she called me at home and told me she wanted the suit back because she’d figured out I had stolen it and was wearing it. She told me she had invented it and was still testing it because she wanted to market it. I was dumbfounded. She’d invented the damn thing! God, what could that girl not do? I couldn’t face her and left it hanging on the door for her to retrieve.

“I was devastated and brooded for three days about what a shit I’d been all my life. I’d been horrible to her all through school, and now I’d stolen her suit and used it to cheat her out of the title.

“This was a turning point in my life. I called her up and apologized for all the mistreatment I’d ever foisted upon her. We talked for over an hour, and she was gracious and wonderful. The next day we had lunch together at the club, and I told her I would admit to the cheating, give back the trophy, and resign my membership. She urged me not to do that but to keep the trophy and view it as my penance. After that, we became friends. Not close friends, but still friends.

“Since we moved to Philly, I don’t see her much anymore, but we still email occasionally. She became the three ghosts to my Scrooge and helped transform me almost overnight into a much better person. I’m no angel, but I’m a hell of a lot better than I was. I’m much happier now, and I’m forever grateful to her for that.”

I quit talking then, and Fran just smiled and gently nodded her head. “That’s quite a story, Dana. So now you’re facing a moral dilemma about working for a company whose values are at odds with your own. That’s tough. But how about this? Maybe you could help do something about it.”

“What do you mean? Like what?”

“Maybe you could keep your eyes and ears open and find out what they’re up to.”

“You mean become a whistleblower?”

“Why not? You’d be doing the country a big service that way if you could nail them doing something illegal or dangerous.”

I thought about that for a few seconds. “Hmm. Don’t just quit and ignore the problem, but do something about it. What a concept. But there could be some danger in that.”

“Could be.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Fran. I could use a little excitement in my life right about now. I’ll think about it. By the way, you’re not really an IT person, are you? You remind me more of a cop, or maybe a Fed.”

Fran just smiled and would neither confirm nor deny it.

Author Notes For those of you who read my novel, Some Call It Luck, which I posted in early 2023, you may remember that the story Dana tells about her past was from that novel. Abby St. Claire has been in several of my novels and is mentioned here for a reason, which we will discover later.

CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Thing-1 and Thing-2: Two agents from the FBI's Inspection Division, the FBI equivalent of Internal Affairs.

Kevin Glazer: Fellow FBI agent whom Fran suspects is a mole who stole the formula for Dipraxa.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Brittany Edwards: Kevin Glazer's contact at the patent office where she is stealing secrets for him.

Chapter 8
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 8

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 7: Dana meets Fran for dinner and confesses to Fran that she wasn’t completely forthcoming about her knowledge of Glyptophan. She tells Fran that her company’s actions towards it are creating a moral dilemma for her because she can see the value of it, yet her company wants to smear it. She’s impressed to find out that Fran’s brother invented Glyptophan.

Dana then relates to Fran that she didn’t always have such morals and gives her the story of her youth in which she was a bully, especially towards a girl named Abby St. Clair whose intelligence she was jealous of. She relates how many years later she ran into Abby again at a country club where they were both members. Dana had stolen a unique invention that, unbeknownst to her, Abby had made—a golf suit training aid that Dana subsequently used to beat Abby in the club championship. Abby figured this out and demanded the suit back. Dana confesses that this was a turning point in her life, and thereafter began a process of reformation. She and Abby are now friends.

The chapter ends as Fran suggests to Dana that, rather than complain about her company’s smear campaign and other unethical and possibly illegal activities, she might consider becoming a whistleblower. Dana says she will think about it and also confronts Fran with her suspicions that she’s really a cop or a fed.

Chapter 8

Marie

The cab dropped me off at LaGuardia Airport at 9:00 AM. I hurried inside because it was fucking freezing this morning. My flight would depart at 10:20 and arrive in Charlotte at 12:15. I should have plenty of time to rent a car and get to Julia’s house, or, if running a little late, to the church by 2:00 PM for the christening.

My first hint of trouble came while sitting at the gate waiting to board the plane. The attendant at the desk announced that due to the unusually cold temperature this November morning, it would be necessary to de-ice the plane, and the flight would be delayed by 20 minutes.

Not a huge deal because I thought I’d built enough time into my schedule. Besides, the earlier flight would have been at 8:00, and I would have had to get up at 5:00 AM to catch that one. No, thank you.

As I was boarding the plane, the stewardess said, “Ma’am, I’m afraid your carry-on bag is too large to fit in our overhead compartments, and you’ll have to check it. They should have caught this before you entered the jetway, but I’ll be happy to take it from you, and you can get it from baggage claim on your arrival.”

“What do you mean it’s too large? I travel with this bag on planes all the time, and I’ve never had a problem before.”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I understand your frustration, but this is a regional jet, and our size and weight requirements are a little more stringent.”

Waiting for the goddam bag in baggage claim was going to eat up any spare time I might have had. Now it would be close.

I felt like arguing with her some more, but I’m a reasonable person, so all I did was frown, yank the baggage claim tags from her hand to show my displeasure, and begin heading down the aisle to my seat.

We didn’t actually get off the ground until 11:00, and the flight time was an hour and 45 minutes. When I arrived in Charlotte and retrieved my bag from baggage claim, it was just after 1:00. I still had to pick up my rental car from Budget. Charlotte is a big enough airport that the rental cars are kept a couple of miles away, requiring a shuttle to transport you there. The shuttle is supposed to run every 10 minutes, but I must have just missed one because I ended up waiting at least 10 minutes for the next one.

I had rented an economy car—a Nissan Micra. I still had my North Carolina driver’s license, and even though it was expired, they didn’t catch that at the rental counter because I covered up the expiration date with my thumb. Living in New York City, I have never owned a car nor had a New York license, and I haven’t driven in years.

This car was strange to me, and I couldn’t figure out how to start the damn thing. There was no key. I had to enlist the help of the lot attendant to show me how to start it. She also asked me if I knew how to use the navigation system. I had planned to use Google Maps on my phone for that, but she told me that it would be unsafe unless it was mounted. This car didn’t have built-in GPS, but she was able to pair my smartphone with the onboard display, and 15 minutes later, I finally pulled out of there.

After all this farting around, it was 1:40, and the GPS said I would arrive at Julia’s house by 2:30. I would be late for the christening. Not that I cared that much about that aspect of the trip, so I guess I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it. At any rate, I texted Julia that I would be late and not to wait for me, but that I would meet them at the house when they returned from the christening.

She texted back that she would leave the front door open for me to let myself in, and I should make myself at home.

Cherryville was exactly how I pictured it—a small, rural town of about 6,000 people, whose biggest attraction is a truck museum. Whoop-de-doo! The road to Julia’s house passed by a number of farms and woodlots. The barn I had seen on Google Street View was a few hundred feet from their house up on the right. When I got a good view of it, her house seemed incongruous with the rest of the area because it was modern and very attractive. It looked new because the lawn wasn’t fully grown in yet, the shrubs were small, and the trees were staked.

It was set well back from the road. I drove up, parked, and let myself in. The first order of business was to find where they kept their liquor and make myself a drink. I’d had a couple on the plane, but it was definitely time for another.

I made my way into the kitchen, where there was a large pantry. There were a few bottles of booze on a lower shelf, which I had to stoop to retrieve. They obviously weren’t big drinkers because the choices were few and they were inconvenient to get to, but I found some vodka and bourbon that would do.

In the fridge, I found a carton of orange juice and fixed myself a screwdriver. I made my way into their family room, where I sat down on the sofa to drink and wind down after that nerve-wracking trip here. God, I hate traveling. I don’t know how Julia does it all the time. We make occasional trips to other cities to perform, but that’s all she does. I wonder how having a baby will impact that.

I looked around the room, and it was pretty obvious a baby was in residence here. There were shelves of baby toys, covers on all of the electrical sockets, rubber guards placed on the corners of their glass coffee table, certain cupboards that were tied closed with stiff rubber bands, and a stack of picture books in a neat pile on an end table next to the sofa. I don’t remember doing all this crap when Julia was little. I guess times are different now.

When I finished my drink, I got up to pour another. Then I started snooping around. There was a closed door just outside the kitchen, and I opened it. There was a landing and a set of carpeted steps leading down. I flipped the light on and descended to find what appeared to be a laboratory with some very expensive-looking equipment.

So, my guess about her drug addict husband was almost right. He wasn’t a drug kingpin, but a drug maker a la Walter White. * I wondered if he made crystal meth too or some newer, more exotic drug. No wonder these two are so rich.

I went back upstairs and continued my tour of the first floor. It was large, but not ridiculously so. I also wandered upstairs. There were five bedrooms, one of which was obviously a nursery. There was a crib with a colorful mobile over it, a rocking chair, a chest of drawers, and a dresser covered with a checkered pad that was the changing table. The walls were covered with penguin wallpaper. The sun streamed in the window, and it was a bright, cheery room.

I wandered into the master bedroom, which was quite spacious. There was a large walk-in closet, and the master bath was also large, featuring a jetted hot tub.

Back in the bedroom, I noticed a picture of a pregnant Julia wearing a denim jumper and playing the violin with a couple of scruffy-looking guitar players dressed in plaid shirts and overalls in the background. She actually looked very cute, but what the hell was that all about?

It was right about then that I heard the garage door open and the slamming of a couple of car doors. Sounded like the christening was over and everyone had come back. I guess it’s showtime.

I hurried back down the stairs and back into the family room, and in walked Julia carrying a large baby boy. “Hello, Mother. I’m happy you made it.” She looked at the baby and said, “Johnny, meet your grandma.”

Johnny looked at me and said, “Ga-ga?”

Author Notes * Walter White is the central character in the famous series Breaking Bad. He is a mild-mannered (at first) chemistry teacher who finds out he has terminal lung cancer and decides to cook meth and sell it to provide for his family after his impending death.

CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Thing-1 and Thing-2: Two agents from the FBI's Inspection Division, the FBI equivalent of Internal Affairs.

Kevin Glazer: Fellow FBI agent whom Fran suspects is a mole who stole the formula for Dipraxa.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Brittany Edwards: Kevin Glazer's contact at the patent office where she is stealing secrets for him.

Abby Payne (nee St. Claire): A girl from Dana's past, who she used to bully but has befriended during their adulthood.

Photo courtesy of Playground-v3

Chapter 9
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 9

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 8: Marie decides to go to the christening of her grandson and experiences a variety of delays in flying from New York to Charlotte and getting to Julia’s house, where she plans to stay for three days. She is late for the christening, but Julia tells her to let herself into the house.

Marie begins snooping around the beautiful new house out in the country and discovers Brian’s basement lab. She thinks he is a drug-maker rather than a drug kingpin now.

The rest return to the house for a post-christening party, and Marie meets her grandson, Johnny, for the first time, who addresses her as “Ga-ga.”

Chapter 9

Marie

It’s hard to predict how you will feel when you see your grandchild for the first time, especially if you didn’t even know he existed until two weeks ago. I am not used to children; I don’t even like them as a rule. I had never wanted one of my own. Julia had been a mistake—a product of failed contraception—but once I had her, I had to grin and bear it as best I could.

I know I’m not a nurturing person by nature. My own mother had been a very cold woman. In retrospect, I think she was bipolar, although she was never officially diagnosed. I only know that she blew hot and cold, and there was no telling from day to day what the temperature would be.

She did instill in me a love of the violin, but she was a taskmaster who could be verbally abusive when I would make mistakes on her down days. I needed to escape her.

We lived in Waukegan, Illinois, north of Chicago. There was an excellent prep school called Wheaton Academy, which specializes in the arts, a little over an hour away in West Chicago, and I begged her to send me there. She was reluctant, so I begged my father, who was a pushover and always sided with me. Together, we eventually wore her down and convinced her to let me go. That got me out from under her tutelage, and I thrived after that.

Following prep school, I attended Northwestern University, where I excelled in my violin studies. That’s where I met Julia’s father, Robert Entwistle, who had been studying conducting there.

As a result of my unexpected pregnancy, Robert and I got married, and Julia was born when I was 22. The last month of my pregnancy and Julia’s birth couldn’t have come at a worse time. There was an opening for a first violin in the New York Philharmonic Orchestra just a couple of weeks after I gave birth. I auditioned for it, but with caring for a newborn, I had had no time to practice, and I didn’t get the job.

Subsequently, my career has been one major disappointment after another, in terms of winning auditions for a prestigious orchestra, until finally I made it into the New York Phil in 2011.

I know that life leading up to that, as well as the circumstances surrounding my beginning there, have left me a bitter woman. I never developed a close feeling for Julia. I guess I always resented the intrusion into my life of a child, and I blamed her for holding me back.

But seeing her again after all these years, especially with that baby—my grandson—in her arms, aroused an unaccustomed feeling in me. Where this will go, and how this will end up, I can’t predict now, but there was something awfully cute about that “Ga-ga?”

“Hello, Julia. I did my best to arrive on time, but everything seemed to conspire against me. I’m sorry I missed the christening.”

“That’s okay, Mother. We’re just happy you’ve come, aren’t we, Johnny? This is Grandma. Can you say Grandma again?”

“Ga-ga.”

I had to smile at that. “Are you sure he isn’t just making random sounds?”

“Well, I’ve gotten a ‘Ma-ma’ out of him, and he’s said ‘Ba-ba’ to his daddy. No ‘Da-da’ yet, but he has heard me call him Brian, so maybe that’s what he was saying.”

He started squirming then, so Julia put him down. He toddled over to an electronic keyboard nearby, began to pat it, and said, “Ga-ga?”

Julia and I laughed, and she said, “And then again maybe it’s just random sounds.”

Right then, Brian, the drug addict, entered the room and came over to greet me. “Hello, Marie.”

Just that. I looked him over. He’d turned into a handsome man. He is tall, much taller than Julia, who is petite like me. Clean-shaven with a full head of brown hair and well-dressed. No earrings or tattoos either. Not at all the picture I’d had in my mind of a drug kingpin or drug maker.

“We’re glad you could come,” he said. “We know how difficult air travel can be from all the trips Julia has made.”

Right then a rather large woman and man entered the room from the kitchen, drinks in hand. Brian said, “Marie, I’d like you to meet my sister, Fran, and her husband, Mike. Guys, this is Julia’s mother, Dr. Marie Schmidt.”

We all shook hands, and then a few others entered from the kitchen. I was likewise introduced to an older couple by the name of Rieke and a redneck-looking pair wearing overalls over plaid shirts, who went by the name of Stubblefield. What kind of hick name was that?

He was the huggy type and enclosed me in a big bear hug. “So nice to meet the mother of the star of our band, Marie. She came to us a year ago and turned us into a local attraction in this here corner of the state.”

“Do tell.” I looked at Julia quizzically. “I’ve got to hear this story.”

“Oh? I’m surprised she never told you about it,” said the paunchy old hugger whose name happened to be Willy.

He then proceeded to tell me how his bluegrass band had been performing at a coffee shop when their fiddle player became violently ill, and he had jokingly asked if there was a fiddler in the house to take his place when Julia stood up and volunteered to fill in. Apparently, he knows something about classical music because he recognized her as being the famous solo violinist that she is, but he didn’t let on about it right away and had her join right in. I guess she performed well—no surprise there—and he invited her to join the band, which, apparently, she did.

This is too bizarre, but it explains that picture I saw in their bedroom. I will find out more about this from her later. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed and in need of another drink, so I excused myself to go into the kitchen to make myself one. Brian followed me.

I was tired of drinking orange juice, so I just poured a couple ounces of straight vodka into a glass, while Brian retrieved a beer from the fridge.

I was dying to hear what he had to say about that lab downstairs. “Brian, I need to use the bathroom. Is this it over here?” I said, pointing to the door just outside the kitchen.

“No, that’s a door to my laboratory. Would you like to see it? There’s a bathroom you could use down there. It’s clean.”

“Lead the way.” As we descended, I asked, “What is it you make down here?”

“Well, I’m not Walter White, if that’s what you’re thinking, but I do make drugs. However, the drugs I create are pharmaceuticals. I fabricated one last year that is just about to begin phase-2 human trials once we’ve screened enough volunteers. It’s a non-addictive painkiller called Glyptophan that will replace opioids in the role they have played for far too long if we can get it to market. It has better analgesic properties than opioids and will not cause addiction—either physical or psychological—because there is no euphoria associated with it. It’s like taking Tylenol, but about 200 times stronger in the amount of pain relief you can expect.”

“And you know this how?”

“Well, at first, I tried it on myself. I’m sure Julia told you that I was in chronic, severe pain following the auto accident I had when I was 16 and became addicted to OxyContin that was prescribed to me. I subsequently needed rehab where, of course, I met Julia. Two years later, I suffered a relapse when I made a foolish mistake while weightlifting and reinjured my back and got addicted again.

“For 13 years following that, I did without drugs and managed my pain with several operations and an implanted spinal cord stimulator. But it became my goal to study neuroscience and invent a drug that could replace opioids, and last year, I finally succeeded. It was approved by the FDA to begin human testing, and we just finished up the phase-1 trials with smashing success.”

“Well, that’s very impressive, Brian, but how did you afford this lab down here? It must have cost a fortune with all this expensive-looking equipment.”

“Yes, it did, but we did it all by ourselves with our own money.”

“But you wouldn’t be earning anything at that point. Was Julia paying for it all? And is she still supporting you? What if this drug eventually fails?”

He had a wan smile on his face and took a few moments to formulate his answer. “This is why I followed you into the kitchen and wanted to talk to you, Marie. I wanted to set you straight on a few things before you and Julia begin to talk. I think it might be a lot more productive that way. I don’t normally like to talk about our personal finances, but since you brought it up…

“I think you’ve had the wrong idea about me for a long time now. I love Julia very much, and she loves me. We are good for each other; always have been. We are a team. Did I rely largely on her income to pay for all of this? Absolutely. She showed great faith in me by her willingness to let me pursue my dream, but you know what? Her faith in me has been rewarded—handsomely, I might add. I already have a licensing agreement with the pharmaceutical company I used to work for until I set out on my own. They paid me very well for the rights to manufacture this drug if it’s approved by the FDA. They already have paid me a large bonus following the successful phase-1 trial. We’re talking eight figures here.

“Julia will tell you that she has retired from touring, at least for now, and her only income is the little she makes from her bluegrass band and royalties from her albums. Now it’s my turn to support us. We just built this house and paid for it outright, so money is not a problem.

“Marie, we are happy and successful, and now we’ve begun a family. The only thing that could make us happier is if you and Julia can patch things up between you. It has eaten at her for years, the way we left things back then. I hope you will give it a chance.”

This was too much to take in all at once. I just looked at him and said, “I need another drink.”

Author Notes CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother. She is the third narrator of the story.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Thing-1 and Thing-2: Two agents from the FBI's Inspection Division, the FBI equivalent of Internal Affairs.

Kevin Glazer: Fellow FBI agent whom Fran suspects is a mole who stole the formula for Dipraxa.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Brittany Edwards: Kevin Glazer's contact at the patent office where she is stealing secrets for him.

Abby Payne (nee St. Claire): A girl from Dana's past, who she used to bully but has befriended during their adulthood.

Mike Pekarsky: Fran's husband. He is a homeland security agent.

Paul Rieke: Brian's former college professor and geneticist, who helped steer him into neuroscience. He has become a good friend.

Willy Stubblefield: The leader of Julia's bluegrass band.

Picture courtesy of Playground-v3.

Chapter 10
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 10

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 9: We hear some of Marie's backstory and find out she was treated by her mother much the way she is towards Julia.

The company who attended the christening soon arrives and Marie is introduced to everyone. She hears the story of how Julia joined the bluegrass band.

She and Brian have a talk in his basement lab where he describes what he makes there. When she intimates that he has been sponging off Julia, he sets her straight about the nature of their marriage--that it is built on trust and they are true partners. She doesn't know quite what to make of the revelation that he is not just some worthless addict who is corrupting her daughter and that he has actually earned millions of dollars from his new drug.

Chapter 10

Fran

It’s been a little over a week since the raid on Kevin Glazer’s apartment that turned up the sat phone calls to China and the Dipraxa data on his computer. The morning after that, I turned over my laptop, which contained the data I stole from Kevin to Lou. At the time, he said to me, “Francine, I knew the suspension and the threat to your integrity would light a fire under you. What led you to suspect Kevin?”

I then related my reasoning and how I enlisted the help of a friend who simply got phone data for me without knowing anything about the case.

Lou had said, “I don’t even want to know your friend’s name,” at which point I said, “Good, because I wasn’t planning to tell you.”

“Figures. I presume you didn’t leave any evidence in Kevin’s apartment that you’d broken in?”

“No, sir.”

“Then you can leave it up to me to figure out a legal way to nail Kevin now that we have him dead to rights and Brittany Edwards too. I have a feeling you’re going to have a more important task ahead of you. Here’s your gun and creds back,” he said as he dug them out of his desk drawer and handed them to me. “Welcome back to the fold, Francine… as if you ever even left it. Now stick around. We’ve got a meeting with FBI Headquarters in Washington.”

He then initiated a Secure Video Teleconferencing meeting with them in which he had me explain the data theft from the USPTO and how it led to our current situation. At the conclusion of the meeting, the Director, with Lou’s full support, put me in charge as the Special Agent in Command or SAIC of the mission to stop the spread of Dipraxa. I was given the authority to enlist whatever agents from my office or others I needed to help me with it, plus any authorized personnel like my brother.

A few days later, Mike returned from his mission, and today we celebrated the christening of Brian and Julia’s baby, Johnny. The christening was a very sweet service at a little Baptist church only a mile from their new house. They had made Mike and me little Johnny’s godparents. We were honored to be chosen. He was now both our nephew and our godchild.

Following the service, we headed back to Brian and Julia’s house. They decided to build a new house because their previous home in Charlotte had been too small for a growing family. Julia had told me at the time that they would most likely have another baby or two one day and would need a bigger house.

Brian and I grew up in a fairly rural area; Julia, not so much. But since she joined her bluegrass band and befriended the band members, she’d been to their houses in the country and fell in love with the slower pace and wide-open spaces of a rural area. Together, they decided to move from Charlotte and build their new home out in the country in Cherryville. They seem very happy here.

I’d heard stories about Julia’s mother over the years—none of them good—but this was the first time I ever met the woman. I hope they’ll be able to repair the rift between them for everyone’s sake.

It looked like Brian followed her into the kitchen, and they’ve been gone for a while now. I wondered what was being said between them.

I needed a word with Brian, myself, to fill him in on the news that Dipraxa had gotten out. I’m permitted to speak with him about it since he has been in on the whole scheme from the start and has the necessary authorization.

I will take him aside a little later and explain it all to him. But the bigger reason for talking to him will be to pick his brain for a solution. Somehow, we have to stop this from spreading any further, and he is the perfect candidate for the job because he invented the drug and knows how it works. Perhaps there would be a scientific solution that could be found, although I had no idea what that might be. I hoped he would.

In a few minutes, Brian and Marie rejoined the group and brought out a few platters of snacks. Little Johnny was toddling around, charming everyone. He would pat their knees where they sat and smile a toothless smile up at them. He wasn’t at all a shy baby.

Only 10 months old now, he was an early walker and was pretty steady on his feet. He made his way over to Julia’s banjo case resting on a shelf. He began patting it, and saying, “Ba-ba? Ba-ba?”

I said, “I think you’ve got a request to play, Jules. How about it?”

“Johnny, are you saying ‘banjo?’”

“Ba-ba.”

“I think that’s what he’s saying, Fran.”

“You want Mama to play her banjo, sweetie?”

“Ba-ba. Ba-ba.”

Julia looked at Willy and said, “I don’t suppose you brought your guitar with you, did you?”

“Have you ever known me to go anywhere without it, Darlin’? I come prepared.”

“How about you, Shannon? A snare drum, perhaps?”

“You got it, Babe.”

“Johnny, I think we’re in luck.”

The Stubblefields left to retrieve their instruments from their pickup as Julia took her banjo out of the case, put picks on her fingers, and began tuning it up. Johnny plucked a few strings too. I glanced over at Marie, who looked rather appalled by it all.

When the Stubblefields returned with guitar and drum, Julia said, “Why don’t we start with Johnny’s favorite: ‘Dueling Banjos’?”

Julia and Willy proceeded to give us a rollicking version of this classic song made famous in the movie Deliverance. We all clapped along to the fast part at the end, all except Marie, I noticed. Even little Johnny tried his best and managed to get his two hands together once or twice, but he lost his balance and sat down hard, where he continued to try to clap. Julia smiled at him most of the time while playing.

When this song was done, Shannon joined them for a few more songs together. Then I called out, “How about ‘The Devil,’ Jules?” This was short for the Charlie Daniels classic, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” which had become a standard in their little bluegrass band’s repertoire and was how they concluded all their shows.

Willy shouted out to Brian, “Daddy, want to join us for the vocals?” Brian knew the words and would do this on occasion. He went up and joined the three of them. Julia put the banjo away and pulled out her fiddle because she would play the fiddle parts of both the devil and his intended victim, not coincidentally named Johnny.

It was another spirited performance that got us all clapping again. Still nothing from Marie, although I did detect a wry smile, or was it more of a sardonic one she couldn’t completely hide?

Following the music, folks began refilling drinks and eating snacks. Conversations began, and I decided the time was right to talk to Brian.

“Hey, little brother, would you mind joining me for a private conversation for a few minutes?”

“Sure, big sis. Why don’t we go down to my lab? We’ll have some privacy there.” He led the way.

I’ve been down here before and was extremely impressed with his setup. It was a very modern lab with over a half million dollars’ worth of fancy equipment. He had done all the development of both Dipraxa and its replacement, Glyptophan, in the lab he’d built in his Charlotte house using this equipment.

“Brian, do you remember how I once told you that Dipraxa could never get out into the general population because of the destruction it would unleash? Well, it’s gotten out.”

“WHAT! How? You don’t think I had anything to do with it, do you?”

“Of course not. But you and I both were natural suspects to the FBI. Let me stress ‘were’ because we now know who the real culprit is.”

I proceeded to fill him in on the original meeting with Thing-1 and Thing-2, my suspension, and my subsequent quest to find out who the mole was.

“You know, I still feel partially responsible and a little bit guilty for what’s happened,” I admitted to him. “I know I warned you this should never get out, but it was my idea to use it in the first place. I wish now I’d taken my own warning to heart. At any rate, my boss told me we’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing now that they have the proof of the theft and the mechanism for it.”

“That was damn good thinking on your part, Fran, and I appreciate your effort to clear us.”

“Well, we don’t need you in jail. We need you to help us find a solution to its spread. All we know is that it’s most likely manufactured in China and smuggled into Mexico, then into the US through the southern border. We’re hoping the current administration will tighten things up down there, but you know how clever those cartels are in finding ways to get things through. We can certainly attempt to interrupt the supply chain or the distribution network if we can figure them out, but I was hoping there would be another way, and that’s where I think you come in.”

“What would that be?”

“Would there be some way to incapacitate the drug? You know, make it so it no longer works. I need your good brain to tell me if this is at all possible or even to conceive of some other way.”

“Huh, that’s an intriguing idea. Incapacitate the drug. That’s going to take some heavy-duty thinking. I’ll get started on it right away because it seems time is of the essence.”

“Thanks, little brother. And if you need help with this and know some folks who could help, like your friend Paul Rieke, we’ll be able to get authorization for that. I’ve convinced my boss this is a high priority now.”

“Got it. Won’t know until I think about it for a while, but I’ll let you know as soon as I have any ideas.”

“I appreciate that. I’m sure the country, if it knew the danger, would too. I just shudder at the thought of how many people would quickly become addicted to Dipraxa, because we all know what happened to you.”

“As one who knows, I certainly share your fear. I’m all in now and will begin immediately… well, maybe after the christening party. Shall we rejoin the group?”

I gave him a hug, and we went back upstairs.

Author Notes CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother. She is the third narrator of the story.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Thing-1 and Thing-2: Two agents from the FBI's Inspection Division, the FBI equivalent of Internal Affairs.

Kevin Glazer: Fellow FBI agent whom Fran suspects is a mole who stole the formula for Dipraxa.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Brittany Edwards: Kevin Glazer's contact at the patent office where she is stealing secrets for him.

Abby Payne (nee St. Claire): A girl from Dana's past, who she used to bully but has befriended during their adulthood.

Mike Pekarsky: Fran's husband. He is a DHS agent.

Paul Rieke: Brian's former college professor and geneticist, who helped steer him into neuroscience. He has become a good friend.

Willy Stubblefield: The leader of Julia's bluegrass band.

Shannon Stubblefield: Willy's wife and the drummer in the bluegrass band.

Picture courtesy of Playground-v3.

The following clip is from the movie Deliverance. If you want to cut to the chase, start at around the 2:45 minute mark.

Chapter 11
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 11

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 10: Fran’s suspension from the FBI is lifted, and instead of being punished, her forgiving boss arranges a videoconference with the FBI Director, who puts her in charge of a mission to stop the spread of Dipraxa.

Fran attends the christening of Brian and Julia’s son, Johnny, and is made the godmother in addition to Johnny’s aunt. Back at the house, she meets Marie for the first time.

At Johnny’s request, Julia joins her fellow band members in an impromptu concert of bluegrass music. After the concert, Fran pulls Brian aside to share the news that Dipraxa has reached the public. Brian is aghast. Fran asks him if he could possibly devise a method to render the drug ineffective, despite its current production by the Chinese. Brian agrees to consider this seemingly impossible idea.

Chapter 11

Marie

It was 7:30, and the christening party ended about half an hour ago. I was attempting to recover my sanity with a drink in the family room when Julia came in with the baby in her arms.

“Mother, I’m going to nurse Johnny and put him to bed. Then I’ll come down again, and perhaps we can have a talk?”

“He’s 10 months old now, and you’re still nursing him?”

“Yes. We both enjoy it. We’ll probably keep it up for a couple more months.”

Johnny seemed to be pawing at her breast and whimpering a little. I flicked my hand a couple of times towards the stairs and said, “Whatever.”

To say that I was unnerved now would be the understatement of the millennium. Who the hell is this lactating, banjo- and fiddle-playing hick living out in Podunk, North Carolina, and what has she done with my daughter? Surely, she couldn’t be the virtuoso violinist I spent years of my life training. A banjo? A fiddle? Is that her Joseph White violin she’s playing like a fucking fiddle?

And these hillbillies she associates with now! I felt like kneeing him in the nuts when that big Jethro gave me a hug.

The rest of the folks seemed normal enough, although Brian’s sister was rather imposing-looking, standing a head taller than me. She was taller than her husband too, and she looked like the only one with any balls in this place. Note to self: Don’t cross that one.

I have to admit that talking to Brian and finding out what he really made down in that lab of his was an eye-opening experience. Maybe I really have misjudged him all these years. Probably not, but maybe. It will take a lot more convincing, though, for me to change my mind about him. I no longer recognize my own daughter because of him. I think Julia’s and my rift became inevitable as soon as he came into the picture.

And then there was Johnny. Meeting him was the most unnerving aspect of the afternoon. Kids and I don’t mix well together. I’ve been to parties for orchestra members and their families, and I couldn’t stand all the noise and shenanigans of the kids who were there. I can identify with The Grinch.

I know I wasn’t an endearing mother to Julia when she was growing up. I suppose I loved her, but I can’t remember ever saying it to her. But there was something different about seeing little Johnny. I don’t know if it was love I was feeling; I’m not sure I even know what that feels like. But it was certainly different from anything I’ve felt towards anyone before. Maybe my heart grew one size today when I heard him say, “Ga-ga” while looking directly at me.

Brian has been in and out, carrying platters of food and dirty dishes back to the kitchen. I probably should have been helping him rather than just sitting here drinking, so I got up and returned one empty platter to the kitchen. Besides, I needed a refill on my drink.

Brian was putting dishes in the dishwasher, and I handed him the empty platter.

“Thanks, Marie.”

“So, how long until Julia gives up this hillbilly nonsense and returns to touring?”

Brian paused a moment before answering. “Let me ask you; didn’t she look happy up there playing? She thoroughly enjoys it. She thoroughly enjoys classical violin too, but touring was becoming very wearing on her. We wanted to start a family, and the timing seemed right for it. You can ask her more about it.

“I know this seems like a very different life to you, and it is, but we’re happy here. We have some friends. We’ve even joined a couples bowling league. Julia has gotten pretty good at it too and actually rolled a 192 last week.”

“I have no idea what that even means. I’ve never fully understood that girl, especially how she became a drug addict.”

“When you talk to her, why don’t you ask her about that? It may help explain some things if you understood that better.”

Julia came into the kitchen right then. “Johnny’s down now. He missed his nap this afternoon, and he was exhausted. We probably won’t hear a peep out of him until the morning. Mother, I’m so glad you decided to come. I know it was hard for you, but I really wanted you to meet your grandson.”

“Julia, let’s cut the shit and go in and talk and get this over with. I came down for one reason, and the only way we can move forward from here is to hear you say the magic words.”

I saw her give Brian a doleful look, and he gestured to her by putting the back of his fingers beneath his chin and raising it up.

I splashed some more vodka into my glass, picked it up, headed back to the family room, and sat on the sofa. Julia had followed me in and sat on an armchair facing me on the other side of the coffee table between us—the one with those ridiculous-looking bumpers on the corners. I waited for her to start to see what tack I would take.

“Mother, I’ve replayed that scene in my head many times over the years, and I wish it had never happened the way it did. I’d like to discuss it with you if you’re willing. I think if we can understand exactly why we said what we said to each other, maybe we can begin to repair what’s kept us apart for so long. Can we try to talk about it civilly so that maybe we can each see it from the other’s point of view?”

“That’s a tall order, but I’ll try. Here’s how I saw it, Julia. I had just been accepted into the NY Phil, and I needed to start right away, but the apartment I’d leased wouldn’t be ready for two weeks. I needed a place to stay for those two weeks, and hotels cost a frickin’ fortune, so I asked my own daughter if I could stay with her. I could tell you didn’t want me to, but you reluctantly agreed.”

“That much is true; I didn’t want you to. I could predict exactly how it would be, and I wasn’t wrong.”

“Yes, well, you needed help on that concerto. Tchaikovsky’s Concerto in D is one of the toughest violin concertos you could have been asked to play. You were floundering.”

“I wasn’t floundering; I was working it out. It was difficult, but my teacher was happy with how it was going and how I was interpreting it. It was a little different, but he liked it, and so did I. And then you came along and started tearing it apart and telling me everything I was doing was wrong. It wasn’t wrong; it was just different.”

“It was wrong, Julia. It wasn’t at all how it’s supposed to be played.”

“How do you know, Mother? Could you channel old Pyotr somehow? Just because it was different from what you were accustomed to didn’t make it wrong. It was my interpretation of it, and my teacher was fully supportive.”

“So, you call that drug addict boyfriend of yours to come rescue you from the evil witch who’s actually trying to help you, and when he comes, the two of you say you’re leaving together.”

“Mother, I wish you’d stop calling Brian my ‘drug addict boyfriend.’ That isn’t fair. I had told you a number of times the only reason he got into taking opioids was because he was in extreme pain, and it was impossible for him not to become addicted.”

“Is that so? What was your excuse then? You weren’t in pain.”

“I was in a different kind of pain. It’s called anxiety. I told you how I got started back then. It was to be able to get through an audition. I was a nervous wreck every time I had to audition or enter a competition. I felt such pressure to perform well, and that if I didn’t, you would think I was a failure. You rode me so hard, and I always felt like I would be letting you down if I didn’t win every audition or competition.”

“But you took those damn pills even when you weren’t competing. The night you overdosed, we were just celebrating your father’s 50th birthday. Where was the pressure in that?”

“By that time, I was psychologically addicted to those pills. They helped me relax around you two. I always used to feel so uptight around you. Everything was serious all the time, and you and Dad fought constantly. I had to tiptoe around you. We never did any fun things together either. I got hooked on those pills so I could escape all that seriousness and ill will for a while.”

“Look, Julia, forget about all that now. I rode you so hard because I knew how good you were. If I’m honest about it, you were better than me. Maybe not technically yet, but I could tell you had the potential to be if you were trained right. You were such a natural and picked things up so quickly. It seemed to come so easily to you, and it was never like that for me. I knew you would be one of the great ones. That’s why I pushed you.”

I just paid her the highest compliment, and she had such a sad look on her face.

“Don’t you think you could have, maybe even once, told me that? I never knew that’s how you felt. I always thought I was a disappointment to you.”

I saw tears begin to stream down her face.

“Did you even love me, Mother? When you looked at me, did you see me or just someone who you could mold into an extension of yourself?”

I had to think about this for a moment. I took a big swig of my drink and repositioned myself on the sofa while I collected my thoughts. I guess we had now come to the crux of the matter.

“To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know. I’m not sure what love is exactly. I never felt anything of the kind from my mother. She used to ride me as hard as I rode you. At least I never berated you and told you how awful you played and what a talentless slacker you were. You can thank me for that.”

There was a long pause before Julia resumed. “Mother, can you understand now why I called Brian? I was completely distraught. I didn’t ask him to come to New York; I pleaded with him not to. But he was worried about me. I said half-jokingly that I felt like taking Seconal because I was so uptight, and that’s when he decided on his own to take off from school and come be with me. He’s always been like that. He truly loves me, Mother, and he expresses it in so many ways.

“I know you think he has corrupted me and turned me against you, but that was never his intention. He was just being himself, and I loved the way he was… and is. He freed me from a life of all violin, all the time. I loved playing the violin, but I also hated it for all the bad feelings that accompanied it. We have been good for each other and picked each other up whenever we were down. And when you insulted him and threatened me if I left with him, that’s when I lost it.”

“Yes, you certainly did. You cursed me out and stormed out of there. I think you owe me an apology for that.”

She gave me a withering look. “I won’t apologize for that unless you apologize for the nasty things you said to Brian and what you tried to do to us. You wanted to break us up, and you thought by threatening to stop paying for any more of my education, that’s all it would take. Well, I decided I didn’t need your money. You weren’t going to take away the best thing in my life—the thing that meant more to me than the violin. I couldn’t bear the thought, and that’s why I cursed you out and left.”

There it was. But I wasn’t apologizing for what I’d said. I was convinced that boy was going to destroy her life. I was only looking out for her. Can anyone blame me for that?

“I guess we’re at an impasse then.”

Author Notes CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother. She is the third narrator of the story.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Thing-1 and Thing-2: Two agents from the FBI's Inspection Division, the FBI equivalent of Internal Affairs.

Kevin Glazer: Fellow FBI agent whom Fran suspects is a mole who stole the formula for Dipraxa.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Brittany Edwards: Kevin Glazer's contact at the patent office where she is stealing secrets for him.

Abby Payne (nee St. Claire): A girl from Dana's past, who she used to bully but has befriended during their adulthood.

Mike Pekarsky: Fran's husband. He is a DHS agent.

Paul Rieke: Brian's former college professor and geneticist, who helped steer him into neuroscience. He has become a good friend.

Willy Stubblefield: The leader of Julia's bluegrass band.

Shannon Stubblefield: Willy's wife and the drummer in the bluegrass band.

Picture courtesy of Playground-v3.

Chapter 12
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 12

By Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 11: Julia and Marie have their long-awaited confrontation with hopes on both sides that they can reconcile their differences after 13 years of estrangement. Together they review the events of the fateful night when the rift began. Each one gives her own interpretation of events, and both refuse to apologize for anything to each other. They are at an impasse.

Chapter 12

Marie

The next morning, Julia and I sat silently at the kitchen table, having breakfast while the baby was in his highchair next to Brian, who was putting bits of scrambled eggs and slices of banana on his tray. Johnny gobbled these up as soon as they were put in front of him.

Julia and I avoided looking at each other. The silence became deafening until Brian eventually broke it.

“Alright, you two. It’s become painfully obvious how pigheaded you both are, and neither one of you is going to apologize to the other, so I’m going to do it for you. This has gone on far too long for no good reason except pride. So, lose the pride for a while and just listen.”

Mimicking me in a caricatured way, he looked at Julia first. “Julia, this is difficult for me to admit,” he began in a somewhat harsh tone, “but I suppose it’s possible I’ve been wrong about a few things, especially your darling husband here, who you clearly love because he is so good to you and who obviously loves you very much. I know I was overbearing at times and should never have threatened you the way I did that night in your apartment and tried to break you and this lovely boy up.”

He was really hamming it up, and it was all I could do to keep from smiling at this exaggerated, obsequious apology.

“For that, I most humbly apologize and beg your forgiveness so that we can move forward from now on.”

Then he gazed at me and began in a softer, more contrite tone, mimicking Julia. “Mother, I know you had some doubts about my relationship with Brian and just couldn’t see what a wonderful person he was—pretty hot, too, I might add—and that he was so good for me.”

I glanced at Julia, who was rolling her eyes.

“I know you were just looking out for what you thought was in my best interest because you had a strong desire to see me succeed in my studies. So, after careful consideration, I too most humbly apologize for the way I spoke to you that night and would love to put that behind us and move forward from here in hopes that you’ll come to love not only Johnny but my wonderful, handsome husband here, who cares so very much about us.”

I cracked up, picked up a piece of toast, and threw it at him like a frisbee. He saw it coming and ducked. Julia, likewise, picked up an uneaten toaster waffle full of syrup and butter and threw it at him, scoring a direct hit on his face. The two of us then picked up every bit of food in sight and pelted him with it as he raised his arms in front of him to fend it off. We all began laughing. Even Johnny joined in the hilarity and began pounding on his tray with his fists and laughing his little head off.

Brian had done it. The tension was broken, the apologies were out of the way, even if it took him to perform them, and I think we all felt we could begin to move forward now and put that horrible episode 13 years ago behind us. I looked at him and winked, and he winked back at me.

I helped Julia clear the table and clean the food from the floor where most of it ended up while Brian cleaned himself up as well as Johnny’s sticky fingers and face—it’s amazing what sloppy eaters babies are—and got him down from his high chair. He toddled over and found a piece of soggy waffle I had missed. He put it in his mouth and began gumming it. When he’d swallowed it, I smiled at him and tickled his neck, and he squealed with laughter. Julia cleaned the bit of syrup off his face and hands with a washcloth while he struggled to escape.

“He is adorable, Julia.”

“Isn’t he? He just keeps us endlessly amused. He’s a good little baby. Hardly ever cries anymore. He loves music too, as you saw yesterday. Seems to prefer the banjo over the violin, though.”

“How did you ever start playing the banjo of all things?”

“Well, you heard Willy tell the story of how I joined the band. What he didn’t tell you was that it was Brian who urged me to go up there and play with the band in the first place. I don’t think I ever would have gone up there on my own if Brian hadn’t suggested it. I didn’t really know any of the songs, but I was able to pick them up after a few bars and just joined in as best I could. It was fun.

“I hadn’t been a bluegrass music fan before that, but there was a certain charm to it, and it was very satisfying to the soul. I especially loved the rowdier songs and the twanging, fingerpicking banjo parts. One day, after I’d joined the band as its fiddler, I asked the regular banjo player if she’d show me a few things. She let me try it, and I really liked it. She then gave me a few lessons, and I learned how to play. I practiced a lot here at home, and Johnny, especially, liked to hear me play it. The violin he could take or leave, but he always loved the banjo playing and started saying, ‘ba-ba, ba-ba’ several times a day. So, now I play both instruments in the band.”

“And Brian told me you’ve stopped touring? You’d rather play hillbilly music now than the classical music you were brought up with?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, Mother. I haven’t necessarily given up touring for life. It just doesn’t fit into my life right now. We wanted to start a family, and constant travels all over the world just wasn’t a part of that picture. Besides, I was getting very fatigued with all that travel and time away from home. During the Covid years, I stayed home helping Brian work on his new drug, and I really enjoyed it. I got to understand what drug development was all about and how extremely brilliant you must be to do what he does.”

“Do you ever practice the violin anymore, or have you given it up for the banjo?”

“Of course I do. I still love the violin and classical music. People have thought it strange that I could love both, but it’s not strange at all. I love them, each in their own way. I will play professionally again someday, but after my kids are grown. I won’t let my skills atrophy. You really did instill a love for the violin in me, you know.”

“Well, it appears I did something right, I guess. I meant what I said about your talent, Julia. You really were quite special. I’d just hate to see you throw all that talent away.”

“I won’t, Mother. I promise you that. The violin is in my soul now. I could never abandon it. Would you like to play some duets with me like we used to?”

“I didn’t bring my violin.”

“That’s okay; I have several. You can play my Joseph White, and I’ll play one of the others. Wanna play now?”

“Sure.”

We headed into the family room where her instruments were stored in a cupboard, and she got two of them out, handing me the case containing her Joseph White. It was a very handsome instrument with a warm, soulful sound to it. It was a high-end instrument that probably cost her upwards of a hundred grand, but I would expect nothing less from a player like Julia.

She still had the violin she played in high school and college, and that’s what she would be playing. As we tuned together and rosined our bows, she said, “How about we start with the Bach Duo?”

“That’s fine.”

Brian and Johnny wandered in right about then, and we began playing. Neither of us needed the music to play. It was like the best of our old times together. With its intricate counterpoint and strong sense of rhythm, this was a challenging piece to keep together on, but we managed it quite well. When it was over, Brian grabbed Johnny’s two hands and helped him clap while he shouted, “Bravo, Bravissimo!”

We played a couple of others together, but then Johnny started saying, “Ba-ba, ba-ba.”

Brian said, “I think he wants to hear the banjo now, Jules.”

Julia looked at me, and I said, “Alright, if you must,” as I rolled my eyes. She laughed and got her banjo out of the cupboard and began playing something called “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” a banjo classic made famous, she said, by someone with the awful-sounding name of Earl Scruggs.

I had to admit that even I began tapping my foot to this rapid fingerpicked banjo piece. Brian helped Johnny clap along to the rhythm. The speed with which Julia played it showed that she had become quite proficient in the banjo in a very short time, which really didn’t surprise me. I guess I could see how it had found its way into her soul, right along with the violin.

What other revelations would I experience in this unexpected trip to Hicksville?

Author Notes CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother. She is the third narrator of the story.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Abby Payne (nee St. Claire): A girl from Dana's past, who she used to bully but has befriended during their adulthood.

Mike Pekarsky: Fran's husband. He is a DHS agent.

Paul Rieke: Brian's former college professor and geneticist, who helped steer him into neuroscience. He has become a good friend.

Willy Stubblefield: The leader of Julia's bluegrass band.

Shannon Stubblefield: Willy's wife and the drummer in the bluegrass band.

Picture courtesy of Playground-v3.

Yes, that's Steve Martin playing at the 1:15 mark.

Chapter 13
The Devil Fights Back - Ch. 13

By Jim Wile

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Recap of Chapter 12: At breakfast the next morning, a sullen Marie and Julia refuse to talk to each other. Brian decides to move things along by doing it for them since they won't apologize. In a humorous routine, he impersonates each of them apologizing to the other, building himself up with flattering words, which ultimately leads to a food fight. They pelt Brian with every scrap of food they can find as they all laugh their heads off, even Johnny. The ice is broken, and the healing begins.

Julia promises Marie that she won’t give up on the violin but is just taking a break from touring to stay at home with Johnny. They end up the chapter playing a violin duet together, after which Johnny begs for the banjo, and Julia plays a famous banjo number.

Chapter 13

Dana

Leonard Merra entered my office this morning, bubbling with enthusiasm. He’s the vice president who seems to be tasked with destroying Glyptophan’s reputation to prevent it from ever coming to market.

“Dana, I just found out some excellent news that I think will put the kibosh on this upstart Glyptophan for good.”

I groaned inwardly but put on an interested face. I’d thought a lot about what Fran had suggested—about my becoming a whistleblower—and I’ve decided to do it. “You seem very excited about this, Leonard. What is it?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, but there’s a new street drug called Dipraxa that’s hit a bunch of American cities. This drug is so psychologically addictive that anyone who tries it is instantly addicted and becomes virtually useless after that.”

“I did read something about a new drug starting to gain in popularity. It gives a better high than heroin and isn’t physically addicting. What does that have to do with Glyptophan?”

“Here’s the good part: it was invented by the same guy who invented Glyptophan. He even has a patent on it, although it’s been rescinded. That’s how we found it, by the way—through the patent office. Someone had the bright idea to look into this Brian Kendrick and see what he’s been up to, and lo and behold, there’s a rescinded patent for a drug called Dipraxa he’d also invented. It’s the same drug that’s on the streets now.”

“How do you know that? Just because of the name?”

“No, our chemists looked at the formula in the patent and also got a sample of the street drug. They’re the same thing, Dana.”

“So, what did he do, start manufacturing it on his own and selling it to a distributor?”

“I don’t think he’d have the facilities for that. It’s too widespread now. I think he probably sold the formula to the Mexican cartels or something, and they’re making it now. Regardless of the circumstances, we should be able to leverage this connection to expose him and Glyptophan. If the cops or the FBI can prove he sold his formula to the cartels, that should ruin him right there. Even if it turns out someone else stole the formula and sold it, I think the chemical similarities to Glyptophan will be enough for your reps to use to discredit it and scare folks about its addictive potential.”

“What should I tell them they should say to their customers if asked about it?”

“They should say that Glyptophan was made by the same chemist who originally made the highly addictive Dipraxa that has invaded the streets. Tell them that Glyptophan is a better analgesic than Dipraxa but is just as addictive.”

“Is that true?”

“How the hell do I know? Probably not, but that’s what we’ll tell them. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Hopefully, this won’t even become necessary. If they can prove he did sell the formula for Dipraxa, he’ll be arrested and jailed, and Glyptophan will hit the skids on its own.”

He walked out then, whistling as he left. God, what a prick. On the other hand, it is disconcerting that Brian Kendrick made both Dipraxa and Glyptophan. At home tonight, I’ll give Fran Kendrick a call and see what the story is behind it—if she’ll tell me. If she’s a fed, as I suspect, she may not be able to. Then again, if I become an official whistleblower, they might potentially make me a—what do they call them in the cop shows?—a confidential informant? This is getting kind of exciting.

“Fran, this is Dana Padgett. We met at the Omni Hotel?”

“Of course, Dana. How are you?”

“Listen, Fran, I’ve thought a lot about your suggestion to do something constructive rather than just complain about my company, and I’ve got some information to share. But you’ve got to let me know if you’re the one I should be talking to about it and if this is to become part of a formal investigation. Before I share anything with you, I’ve got to know who you really work for.”

There was a long pause as, I’m sure, Fran was gathering her thoughts and deciding what she could tell me.

“Okay, Dana, your speculation about me at the restaurant last week was correct. I am a fed—an FBI field agent in the Charlotte office. Although what you may decide to tell me at this point is only slightly related to my current mission, I’d still like to hear it because you never know how things may relate eventually. Do you know what a confidential informant is?”

“I’ve watched enough cop shows to know that.”

“If you’d like to become a CI—”

“Count me in.”

“Great, then we’d need to do a background check on you and set up a few things first.”

“And I’d need to see your credentials too.”

“Absolutely. Are you planning a trip to Charlotte again any time soon?”

“I could.”

“I’ll fast-track the background check, but I’ll need at least a couple of weeks to do it. Why don’t you make flight plans for a trip two weeks from now? We’ll reimburse you for it.”

“I’m excited about this, Fran. Plus, it will be nice to get together with you again. How long a trip should I plan for?”

“Let’s say three days. You can be a guest at my house. I’d like for you to meet my brother and his wife too, and my husband, of course. I’ll plan on picking you up at the Charlotte airport when you arrive.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll get right on it. Nice talking with you, Fran, and I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“Very good, Dana.”

So, I’m really going to do it! I felt excited about it. I’m not sure my company, Newman-Price, is guilty of anything illegal at this point, but I wouldn’t put it past them to try something in the future. If nothing else, it will give Fran and her brother some advance warning of what my company’s plans are to sabotage his new drug.

If this drug is all it’s cracked up to be, it will be the greatest aid to pain relief there is, and millions could potentially benefit from it. It would be a damn shame if it was killed by the greedy bastards of Big Pharma, which includes Newman-Price, so they can keep their highly addictive, inferior products selling.

Two weeks later, I arrived at Charlotte Airport, where Fran met me at arrivals. “Great to see you again, Fran.”

“You too, Dana. Nice of you to be willing to come down in person. As I told you on the phone, we would do a background check, and everything looks copacetic. Here are my credentials, too, so we can begin to talk to each other.”

Her SUV was still at the curb, and we hadn’t pulled out yet. She handed over her FBI identification card and badge for me to inspect. I took a cursory glance at these and handed them back to her. She returned them to her purse.

After we’d left the airport and were on the road, Fran said, “For becoming an official CI, we’ll sign the necessary papers in the morning, and we can set up secure communications. We’ll also go through a few training exercises.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Fran, I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and what I have to share with you about my company may be more closely involved with your current mission than you think. I have a feeling I know what it’s about.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting. What do you think it is?”

“Okay, first, here’s what I’ve got: Leonard Merra, one of our veeps, came into my office a few weeks ago and was bursting with enthusiasm because he’d found out that your brother’s new drug, Glyptophan, was preceded by a drug called Dipraxa that he’d also invented.”

I was looking at Fran, and her eyebrows raised at this announcement. I continued, “This is the same drug that has recently hit the streets of a number of cities and is highly addictive. He figures, first of all, that your brother may be arrested for selling the formula to whoever is manufacturing it, but if not, we could use this to smear Glyptophan. He wants our reps to say it’s just as addictive as Dipraxa. He’s a real shithead if you want to know, and typical of Big Pharma’s approach to their competitor’s products.”

“How did they establish the link between these two drugs?” asked Fran.

“According to him, they did a patent search and found out that besides Glyptophan, your brother had also patented Dipraxa. Our chemists analyzed the ingredients as well as those of the street drug and found out they were the same and also very similar to the ingredients in Glyptophan. So, can Glyptophan be as addictive as Dipraxa, like shithead wants us to say?”

Fran then told me the history of what happened with Brian and Dipraxa—that it was the precursor to Glyptophan—but that Brian had solved the addictive aspect of it with gene modification additives.

“Well then,” I said, “I’m guessing your current mission is to find out who sold the formula for Dipraxa to whoever the manufacturer is and, more importantly, to stop it in its tracks before it turns us all into useless addicts and destroys the economy of the country.”

Fran just nodded. “You’re extremely perceptive, Dana. I’ve already discovered who the “kudzu-spreader” is, and it wasn’t my brother. Plus, you’ve correctly surmised the larger mission. As you can see, it’s only marginally related to your information about Big Pharma’s unscrupulous practices at this point, but I still really appreciate your telling me about this.

“What your veep is suggesting is certainly unethical and probably illegal under current slander laws. It’s defamatory, unsupported, false information. However, it’s very hard to prove a financial hit to my brother because it’s only undergoing trials and hasn’t been brought to market yet. This is good to know, though, because it may help Brian get ahead of the problem and think of a way to counter it. This doesn’t yet rise to the level of an FBI mission, but these things tend to escalate into something more serious, hence the decision to turn you into a CI.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go over this again at the FBI, but tonight, we’ll just go home and relax. I’ll introduce you to my husband, Mike. You’ve probably had dinner already since it’s 9:00 now, but we can grab some snacks if you’re hungry when we get home. I believe Mike made a peach pie tonight if that would interest you?”

“Do you have any vanilla ice cream to go with it?”

“Of course.”

“How could I refuse then?”

Author Notes CHARACTERS

Fran Pekarsky: One of three narrators of the story. She is an FBI agent from the North Carolina field office in Charlotte.

Dana Padgett: One of three narrators of the story. She is the assistant marketing director for a Big Pharma company.

Brian Kendrick: Fran's younger brother. He is the inventor of Dipraxa and Glyptophan.

Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife.

Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother. She is the third narrator of the story.

Cedric (aka Cecil): The doorman at the apartment house where Marie lives.

Lou D'Onofrio: Fran's boss at the FBI.

Patty Mattson: A hacker friend of Fran's.

Abby Payne (nee St. Claire): A girl from Dana's past, who she used to bully but has befriended during their adulthood.

Mike Pekarsky: Fran's husband. He is a DHS agent.

Paul Rieke: Brian's former college professor and geneticist, who helped steer him into neuroscience. He has become a good friend.

Willy Stubblefield: The leader of Julia's bluegrass band.

Shannon Stubblefield: Willy's wife and the drummer in the bluegrass band.

Picture courtesy of Playground-v3.

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