Empty Promises Page 6

  “That is another odd thing about this case—Hank is not the only vet who has become unexpectedly addicted recently. I’ve seen several others who seem to have become addicted far quicker than would be expected. Hell, most of them don’t even have a history of addiction. I don’t understand why they would have become addicted so quickly.”

  Jack grunted. “That’s exactly why I intend to sniff around at the VA. I’m concerned somebody’s toying with vets in some perverse experiment.” Jack stared intently into the distance. “That’s bullshit!”

  He spun and stepped to the door, stopping when he opened it.

  “Thanks, Harley. Get Hank better.” He stepped through the door and gently pulled it closed behind him.

  Chapter 16

  Smithson raised the coffee cup from the kitchen table, staring blankly down into it as he swirled the steaming liquid. He was guilt-ridden about what happened to Hank. Smithson replayed in his mind yet again what had led him to recommend the study to Hank.

  “Sorry, Hank. I screwed up somehow,” he grumbled. “I must have missed something…but I’ll be damned if I know what.”

  Looking at the whirls in his coffee reminded him about all the swirl he’d run into in his recent efforts to uncover more details about the study. Following directions he’d received from Hank, Smithson had gone to the VA facility where the Greater American Pain & Spine clinic was located. He’d found only a locked door. Hank’s an expert at navigation, so I can’t imagine he gave me bad directions, he’d thought as he’d jiggled the doorknob. He’d then gotten on the phone, calling everyone he could think of, looking for assistance in uncovering information about the study. To date, he’d had nothing but useless, circular discussions, making him even more suspicious.

  He’d also tried to find out who at the VA Biomedical Laboratory Research and Development was coordinating the co-sponsored study. He scowled as he recalled the meeting he’d scheduled with the contact person he’d been referred to. When he’d gone to the man’s office, Smithson had been told the man was not available to meet with civilians. Though Smithson had given a convincing performance of an irate senior officer, in the end, he’d been escorted from the facility by security.

  “That was fucking humiliating! ‘Civilian’! A retired, two-star, medical corps lifer being dragged away from a VA office!” He slapped the table. “The VA system was created for the sole purpose of assisting veterans with their health needs!” he snarled. “Sonsofbitches!”

  He snatched his cellphone from the table and thumbed through texts, clenching his teeth and growling when he arrived at the one he’d received a few days prior.

  Back away from the Greater American Pain & Spine study or else old man

  What really annoyed him, though, was the “RIP” tombstone emoji attached to the text.

  “I’m a forty-plus-year veteran, the last fifteen of those at flag level—I’m not about to tolerate being spoken to like that. Not by anyone!”

  When he’d asked a past colleague in the 780th Military Intelligence Brigade to figure out who’d sent it, he was told it was untraceable. They’d said there was no way to know who had sent it and that it had likely been sent from a “burner phone.”

  He jabbed a finger on the “delete” button and tossed his phone onto the kitchen table.

  “I didn’t get a star by giving up easily, you chickenshit…whoever you are,” he muttered.

  He snatched up his phone again, quickly finding the number he’d stored but had never quite been able to convince himself to call. He stared for a few seconds at the name attached to the number—Sara—his finger poised over the “send” button. During his investigation into the collaboration between the VA System and Greater American Pain & Spine, he’d happened across her name on a list of new VA employees. He’d toyed with the idea of reaching out to her to see if she could access information he couldn’t get, but so far, he had resisted the urge.

  Sara Kartal was the young Turkish lady who’d helped Jack survive when he’d been kidnapped by a band of terrorists while in Turkey. Jack’s family had taken him to the Mediterranean for a vacation to recover from the gunshot wound that had briefly left him clinically dead. Sara was the daughter of the old man who was the leader of the terrorist group that had abducted Jack. She and her daughter, Sasha, had also been held against their will by Sara’s father. After Jack’s escape from the terrorists, he had risked his life to return to where Sara and Sasha were being held to free them then helped them find sanctuary in the U.S.

  “Are you sure about this, George? She’s already been through enough crap in her life…”

  After a few seconds, his finger touched the screen, and the “calling” icon flashed.

  “Shit!” he grumbled. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

  “Sara Kartal.”

  Smithson was silent, considering hanging up but quickly realized his number would be recorded on her phone’s caller ID.

  “Hello…Sara Kartal. Can I help you?”

  “Sara! It’s George Smithson…Jack Bass’s friend. Do you remember meeting me over in Turkey?”

  “General Smithson! Of course, I remember you! How could I ever forget anyone in the group of heroes who freed my daughter and me? It’s so great to hear your voice,” she responded in a bubbly timbre. She was silent for a few seconds. “Um…how is Dr. Bass these days? Is he continuing to recover?”

  Smithson laughed. “As big a troublemaker as ever, I’m afraid.”

  Sara giggled. “Why am I not surprised to hear that?” She giggled again then stopped short. “Oh, my god—he’s not in some sort of trouble again, is he?” she asked with alarm. “Is he okay? Is he hurt?”

  “Whoa, slow down. He’s fine. What I’m calling about has more to do with Hank. He, uh, could use a little assistance.”

  “Mr. Greene? What’s happened?” Sara asked in a worried tone.

  “Sara! Take a deep breath—we’re all okay…sorta.”

  “I swear, you guys just seem to find trouble wherever it is.”

  Smithson snorted. “That’s no lie. Like I said, it’s Hank who’s hit a bit of a rough patch—and that’s where I was hoping you might be able to help.”

  “Anything, General Smithson! Sasha and I owe our lives to all of you.”

  “You owe us nothing…but I was hoping you might be able to help me with something—no pressure, though.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can. What do you need from me?”

  “I thought I saw where you’re working in the VA system now…”

  “Yes. For a few months now—I’m very excited about my new job! I’m working with a fantastic P, M & R doctor who specializes in orthotics for battle-related amputees. He’s doing wonders for so many vets…getting them functional again.”

  “Wow! That is exciting. But…I was calling to see if you could, uh, dig around inside the VA intranet to help me uncover—I mean, find—some info on a VA-sponsored study that Hank took part in.”

  “Really? I would have thought that with your military medical credentials you’d be able to access anything you wanted within the VA system,” she rattled off. “Except for patient charts of course.”

  “You might think so, Sara, especially since I’ve even been a volunteer VA staff physician since I left active duty! But I now find myself locked out of their intranet. Anyway, I haven’t been able to access any info on this study—that, in itself, is a concern to me. Something sure smells fishy.”

  “That is odd.”

  “Would you, uh, be comfortable seeing what you could find? It could be very helpful.”

  “You know I will do whatever I can to help—no questions asked. What study?”

  “I don’t have any details. It was being done by Greater American Pain & Spine.”

  “Oh…what was the study for?”

  “Chronic pain. One of Hank’s old gunshot wounds has really been bothering him lately. I don’t know if you know this, but he took a slug to his thigh that clipped his femur—h
e’s got a rod in there now. I’ve treated a lot of folks after similar injuries and surgeries, and it’s not uncommon for them to develop chronic pain like Hank has. Anyway, I suggested Hank might try enrolling in the study…just to see if it might help…”

  “And…did it?”

  “Help the pain? Hell if I know—he never had a chance to determine that. You see, Hank had a horrible reaction to the study drug. I won’t go into details, but…well, it was pretty dicey there for a few days.”

  “What kind of reaction?”

  “Mental. He, uh, went a little…psycho…”

  “Oh, my! Is he better now?”

  “As we physicians like to say, ‘to be determined’. He’s definitely not out of the woods yet.” Smithson was silent for a few seconds. “One more piece of Hank’s history you should probably know is that he was an addict at one point in his life. Please, keep that to yourself, by the way.”

  “Really? Mr. Green? But he was always so disciplined. So…military.”

  “Well, he’s recovered…really cleaned up his act, and since then, he’s been as disciplined as he was as a Green Beret. But…this study drug changed that.” He sighed loudly. “We want our Green Beret Hank back.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, you actually called at a perfect time—I’m at work and between patients. Let me do some quick searches right now.”

  “Are you sure, Sara? I don’t want to get you in any hot water at your new job.”

  “Like I said—don’t give it a second thought. Give me a minute to get logged on.”

  Smithson drummed his fingers as he listened to the clicking of keys as Sara typed on her keyboard.

  “Huh,” Sara said. “I found a study being conducted by Greater American Pain & Spine. It’s testing a drug for chronic pain…but it’s listed as canceled. And I can’t seem to open any of the related links to Greater American Pain & Spine.”

  “‘Canceled’ is usually not a good sign in the midst of any study—typically means something probably wasn’t going well,” Smithson groaned.

  “Let me try something else really quickly.”

  Again, the click of keyboard keys sounded through the phone.

  “This is very odd. I couldn’t find any details about the study, but I did find a name of the study lead.” She told him the name.

  “That’s the same guy I tried to meet with, and he blew me off!”

  “Oh. Well, it appears as if he was reassigned after the study was shut down. Here’s the really strange part, though—I can’t find him anywhere in the VA system now. Not even on email.”

  “Huh,” Smithson grunted. That is odd…very odd.”

  “Do you want me to contact someone in HR to see if he’s still employed with the VA?”

  “No! I don’t want you doing anything that would draw attention to yourself.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘buts’, Sara! You’re new there, and you don’t need to do anything that would put your employment at risk. Nothing! Am I clear?”

  Silence filled the line.

  “Sara? Are we clear on that?”

  She sighed loudly. “I suppose.”

  “I mean it! I’ve been around long enough to know when something goofy is going on” He was silent for several seconds. “Look, there’s something you need to know about your earlier comment about trouble always finding us.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not really the rest of us as much as it is…Jack. It’s a long story—one you’re better off not knowing.”

  “No! There can be nothing bad about such a good man.”

  “No—not bad. He’s just got a problem with…stuff happening to him…and people around him. He’s got the worst black cloud following him of anyone I’ve ever met. It is really just uncanny—downright scary sometimes.”

  “But how could that affect those around him…and what’s that got to do with Hank being in this study?”

  “Well, Jack has taken an interest in this study because of what happened to Hank. And when he takes an interest in things…well, sometimes, there’s…collateral damage.”

  “What? What does that even mean?”

  Smithson didn’t respond for several seconds. “It means he would be very unhappy—with both of us—if he knew we’d spoken. And he’d be even more unhappy if you did anything more than you already have.” George shook his head angrily. “Shit! Why’d I even call you? What the hell was I thinking?” he mumbled.

  “It’s okay, General; I’m glad you did.”

  “But I’m not glad! Please, promise me you’ll forget we ever spoke about this.”

  “Of course. I don’t understand…but I will do as you ask.”

  “Thank you, Sara. It was good talking to you. Have a great life, and tell Sasha we all said hello.”

  “I will.”

  “Good-bye, Sara.”

  Smithson disconnected and threw the phone onto the table.

  “I need information, but I can’t risk involving Sara more.” He picked up his coffee, drained it, then put the cup in the dishwasher. He leaned against the counter. “On to plan B, I guess. Whatever the hell that is.”

  After Smithson disconnected, Sara slipped her phone into a pocket of her lab coat and stared at her computer screen for a couple of minutes.

  “I don’t want to break a promise to General Smithson.” She set her jaw and started typing commands into her computer. “But Jack Bass saved my life…saved Sasha’s life—I cannot look the other way if he needs help!” She leaned in close to her monitor, squinting at the search results on the VA intranet system. “I am sorry, General Smithson, but I cannot honor your request, even if that means dishonoring myself.”

  Chapter 17

  Three Days After Hank was Found in The Alley

  Hank leaned back on his haunches after vomiting in the toilet, copious sweat running from his forehead and stinging his eyes. He blinked away the burn and looked at his wristwatch, struggling to focus on the hands as his arm shook violently.

  “Ohhh…three-fucking o’clock,” he groaned.

  He suddenly kneeled up again and retched into the commode, the cold water splashing onto his face actually feeling soothing. His stomach continued to twist in painful knots.

  “Fuck! This is way worse than last time. I really thought I could do this at home.” He winced as a stabbing pain wrenched his guts. “H-handle it by myself.” He leaned his forehead on the edge of the toilet seat, rolling his head back and forth on the cool porcelain. “But I-I’m not so sure anymore…”

  He crawled on his hands and knees into his bedroom, lying on the floor at the base of his dresser and jerking open one of the lower drawers. Hank flopped a hand over the rim of the drawer, rummaging around in the clothing until his fingers touched a small metal case at the back. He’d kept the kit of syringes he’d used when he was a junkie as a reminder he never again wanted to go back to that life. He opened the case and pulled out a syringe, licking his lips hungrily as he turned it over in front of his eyes. He doubled-up as spasms racked his body.

  “May-maybe I just need a little pop. Just something to get me through this tough part…”

  Chapter 18

  Next Morning

  “Did you hear Hank in the bathroom last night?” Jack asked.

  “Yep.” Smithson replied. “I got up when I heard him. Caught him trying to slip out of the house.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “First thing I did was relieve him of his paraphernalia. Then we talked. I told him I wasn’t going to let him fail his rehab.”

  “And how’d that go over?”

  Smithson grunted. “About like you’d expect…but he stayed.”

  “Good. Let’s get back to figuring out what the hell happened to him.”

  Jack and Smithson pored over various pieces of search results they’d printed, each picking up and scanning a sheet of paper before either tossing it aside or passing it to the other.

  “This report you found
on GovTrack.us about this drug company is interesting, George. Looks like they’re trying to get an endorsement to be sole supplier of narcotics for all vets being treated for chronic pain at VA hospitals and clinics.” He whistled softly. “That’s staking a big claim if they get it.” He read farther then handed the paper to Smithson. “They claim they’re also going to provide a support program for vets with chronic pain…if they get the contract.”

  “What’s the name of the company again?” Smithson asked, glancing at the sheet Jack had just handed him.

  “Pharmadosh.” Jack turned to his laptop and plucked at the keys. “Let me Google Pharmadosh—see if they have any VA connections.” He put his finger to his lips as he scrolled through several screens, scanning them quickly. “Well, I’ll be go-to-hell. Guess what company appears to have a ‘collaborative research effort’ for pain medication sponsored by the VA system…and Greater American Pain & Spine? Whoever they are.”

  Smithson grunted. “Don’t tell me; let me guess. Pharmadosh.”

  “You win!”

  “And Greater American Pain & Spine sent me the email about the study!” George replied quickly.

  “Huh. I already don’t like the sounds of this. Looks like Pharmadosh is pitching that, in exchange for them funding this research and providing a chronic pain support program for vets, the VA grants them an exclusive supplier contract for prescription narcotics.” He gave Smithson a concerned look. “For the entire VA system.”

  Smithson let out a low whistle. “That would be some serious bucks! And you and I both know their ‘support’ program will be some worthless, piece-of-crap plan, full of empty promises,” Smithson grumbled.

  Jack snorted. “You don’t suppose any congressperson’s PAC coffers are getting filled by Pharmadosh, eh?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Oh, hell no—that would never happen in D.C.,” Smithson replied then chuckled. “And I can shit goddam golden eggs.”

  “Interesting. I’m not seeing the FDA mentioned anywhere in the stuff I’ve found about this study—which ain’t much. And I can’t find any actual clinical details of the study, let alone results.” Jack read through a few more screens then turned to Smithson. “Shouldn’t the FDA be in this mix somewhere? I thought they had a pretty firm policy for what they do when tests on a drug have unfavorable results, like those Hank experienced. You’d think they’d, you know, tell the manufacturer they need to take measures to correct the problem. I swear it says something like that on their website.”