American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

At the same moment that Mudd disappeared into the Washington night, at the headquarters of Vought Pharmaceuticals in New Jersey.

Saul Goodman pushed open the mahogany door to the CEO's office. His face was paler than usual, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, a rare sight for someone who was now used to weathering any storm.

"Something happened?" Victor looked at his pale face.

"Big trouble." Saul tossed his briefcase onto the sofa. "Remember that 'little problem' we had in Hong Kong? That Dr. Leung, he didn't just write to the FDA."

"continue."

"David Rossi called me."

Saul unbuttoned his shirt collar, panting.

"That mad doctor sent three letters. Three! It's like terrorists spreading anthrax!"

"The first one was sent to the FDA, but Rossi intercepted and destroyed it."

"The second letter was sent to The New York Times."

"Our PR department has an informant over there. The intern who's in charge of screening 'reader letters' intercepted it before the editor-in-chief saw it. That cost us five thousand dollars."

"And the third one?" Victor's eyes narrowed.

"We tracked down to a third letter sent to The Washington Post."

"The public relations department checked the postal records; the letter was delivered to the newspaper's mailroom yesterday morning. It was registered mail, and there was a signature record. But when our informant tried to 'recover' it... it was gone."

"It's gone?"

"Yes. The mailroom records show it was signed for, but it can't be found in the editorial department's sorting bins or the wastepaper baskets. Even the cleaner responsible for that area said they've never seen it."

"It's like it evaporated. Or was taken away by an unseen hand!"

Victor was silent for a moment, then asked:

"If The Washington Post gets hold of that letter and publishes it on the front page, can our legal defenses hold up?" Victor asked.

"This is the good news I have to report—if we can even call it good news."

Saul pulled a document from his briefcase on the sofa.

"Based on our well-prepared 'firewall' strategy, we are legally unassailable."

He opened the document and pointed to the clauses.

"First, regarding the time lag between the 'right to know' and 'scientific understanding'."

"We can prove that before 1984, the medical community's understanding of the HIV virus was extremely limited. The CDC and the Pasteur Institute in France were still debating the naming of the virus, and Dr. Gallo and Dr. Montagnier were still fighting a patent lawsuit."

"This is a perfect 'gray area'," Saul said, his pace quickening. "The FDA only recently mandated heat inactivation of plasma. Our product was manufactured before the new regulations were implemented and met the industry standards at the time. We're not prophets; we can't foresee unknown risks."

"Second, regarding the 'dumping' allegations."

"We stopped selling our old inventory in the United States not because it was 'toxic,' but to upgrade our products in response to the FDA's call for new technologies. This was a business decision, not a guilty plea."

"As for exporting overseas, that's based on approval from local regulatory agencies. The Argentine Ministry of Health approved it, and the Hong Kong Hospital Authority approved it. We are engaged in legal trade, not smuggling. If they feel there's a problem, that's due to their inadequate oversight, not our responsibility."

"Third, and most importantly."

Thor revealed a cunning smile.

"A break in the chain of evidence."

"None of our internal documents acknowledge that the blood plasma was contaminated. All internal memos and meeting minutes made no mention of the word 'risk.' We only talked about 'stockpiles,' 'market expansion,' and 'humanitarian aid.'"

"Legally, malicious intent requires evidence. If we 'didn't know' it was poison, then we didn't commit murder; at most, it was just... an unfortunate medical malpractice incident."

Victor nodded. That was why he liked Saul. The lawyer could always turn black into white, and hellfire into a warm fireplace. He also had to admit that Saul's quick wit was about 80% as sharp as his own.

"However," Victor continued, "being legally unassailable does not guarantee immunity from public criticism."

"The Washington Post is not a court of law. They don't need evidence that 'beyond a reasonable doubt,' they just need a sensational story."

Victor imitated the newsboy's shouts, his tone mocking:

"Shocking! American pharmaceutical companies are poisoning the Third World! They're selling death for profit!"

"This headline is enough to halve our stock price, and enough to entice those hypocrites on Capitol Hill to rush over at the smell of blood and start endless hearings."

"So, that missing letter was a time bomb," Thor added.

"No, it's not just that letter."

Victor shook his head, his eyes turning somber.

"Saul, think about it. Why was the letter from The New York Times intercepted, while the letter from The Washington Post 'just happened' to disappear? Why did our PR informant miss his target?"

"The mailroom receives thousands of letters every day. If no one is specifically watching it, that letter will simply get lost in the sea of ​​mail. Unless... someone is waiting for it."

Thor paused for a moment, then his pupils dilated sharply.

"You mean... a mole?"

"It's not just an inside man," Victor sneered.

"The public relations department's operating procedures are highly confidential. The fact that they were able to bypass our monitoring and precisely obtain that letter indicates that the other party is very familiar with our internal systems. They may even have been monitoring our email flow all along."

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the conference room—where the board of directors held meetings.

"Remember the Poison Pill Plan, Thor?"

"Of course." Saul shuddered. "Back then, to resist Sakura Pharmaceuticals' hostile takeover, we activated the 'poison pill,' forcibly diluting the shares of all shareholders, causing the stock price to plummet. Although those directors were forced to agree at the time, they must have been seething with hatred inside."

"That's right."

"In the world of capital, there is no eternal loyalty, only eternal interests."

"Those fund managers and representatives of family trusts lost real money."

"Saul. On the golf courses of Wall Street, in the private clubs of Manhattan, those old guys are whispering and plotting."

"They've been waiting for an opportunity, an opportunity to kick me out."

"Now, someone wants to use another person to do their dirty work."

"They want to use this scandal to smear me, force me to resign, and drive the stock price to rock bottom. Then they can buy up shares at a low price and gain absolute control of the company."

Saul felt a chill run down his spine. This was no longer crisis management; it was a life-or-death palace coup!

"So what do we do now? Destroy the evidence?" Saul asked.

"Of course. But it's not just about destruction."

"We must rewrite history!"

"I need you to start the 'cleaner' procedure immediately."

"Get rid of all the old documents that could cause ambiguity—those about inventory backlog, overseas sales strategies, negotiations with the FDA..."

“I’m not talking about simple shredding.” Victor stared into Saul’s eyes. “Paper shredders aren’t actually safe. Piecing together shredded paper is a basic skill for the FBI. Even a cross-cutting shredder can’t stop a patient forensic expert.”

"I want you to use an industrial pulping machine."

"Send those documents to the paper mill. Throw them into a vat of strong acid, pulp them, and completely destroy the fiber structure. Then, dump that pulp down the drain and flush it into the Atlantic Ocean."

"Understood." Thor swallowed hard.

"Then," Victor lowered his voice, "I want you to forge a new batch of documents."

"Let's rewind to 1983. The content is about how we 'actively explored virus inactivation technology' and how we 'proactively screened high-risk plasma without mandatory regulations'."

"Even if there weren't any test kits back then, I still wanted to see a 'negative internal screening' report."

"That's the art of document fabrication, Saul. When the truth doesn't exist, the document is the truth."

"Leave it to me," Thor replied without hesitation; this was his area of ​​expertise.

"I have a group of old buddies who retired from the CIA's technical department. They can get their hands on ribbons from a 1983 IBM Selectric II typewriter and mix the carbon ink that was unique to that era."

"With just a cup of black tea, an oven, and a few UV lamps, they can make newly printed paper look ten years old. Even carbon-14 dating won't detect the difference."

After Saul left, the office returned to silence.

Victor knew that Saul could only solve legal and paperwork problems, but not people.

The mole lurking in the shadows, the one who stole the letters, is the real threat. If this hand isn't severed, more letters will disappear and more secrets will be leaked.

He opened the drawer and took out a black personal mobile phone.

This number is not registered with the company, and the bills are sent to a shell company in the Cayman Islands.

He dialed a number.

"Beep—beep—"

The call rang twice before being answered.

"Feed." A deep voice came from the other end of the phone, with the background noise of baseball commentary.

"It's me." Victor didn't give his name, but he knew the other person would recognize him.

"Mike, I have a job for you."

The other party paused for a second, then turned off the radio.

"I'm listening, Mr. Corleone."

Mike Ermantrout.

At this very moment, he was sitting in an inconspicuous surveillance vehicle in Philadelphia, holding a cold sandwich in his hand.

A former Philadelphia police officer who left for some shady reasons, he is now the best private investigator—or rather, cleaner—in the business.

He's a man of few words, never asks why, and is extremely efficient. But the price is, "you have to pay extra!"

"I need you to investigate a few people for me. The board members of Water Pharmaceuticals. All twelve of them."

"I need to know who they've met recently, what phone calls they've made, and whether there have been any unexplained fund transfers in their accounts."

"In particular, whether anyone has had private contact with The Washington Post or other pharmaceutical companies."

"It will take a little time," Mike said calmly. "These big shots are very good at counter-surveillance, and their security systems are very sophisticated."

"I'll give you double the price. And I need it fast."

"Understood."

"There's one more thing," Victor added. "Someone took a letter before Walter's PR informant arrived at the mailroom of The Washington Post. I'll send you the exact time and postal record later through the usual channels. I need to know who it was."

"Remember, don't alert him after you find out. I need to know who his superior is and who is giving him orders."

"As you wish."

"Click."

The call ended. Victor tossed the cell phone back into the drawer.

"Trying to pull this stunt?"

Victor sneered at the air.

"Let's see whose teeth are sharper!"