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

The distance from Washington, D.C. to New Jersey is approximately 250 miles. Early in the morning, a black Lincoln sedan drove into the underground parking garage of Vought Pharmaceuticals' headquarters.

The car door opened, and Robert Glenn took a deep breath. Today was the third day since he stepped down as FDA commissioner. Under federal law, he had a one-year "cooling-off period," during which he was prohibited from engaging in any lobbying activities against his former agency.

However, the law can regulate "lobbying," but not "consultation."

Five minutes later, he was already standing in the "Global Regulatory Strategy Office" on the top floor of the building.

The Persian carpet underfoot made him feel as if he were walking on clouds, and the huge floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the entire industrial park. In contrast, his previous office at the FDA was like a cramped storage room, piled high with endless documents, and the air conditioning vents made a tractor-like rumbling noise.

"Do you like the view, Robert?"

Victor's voice came from behind him. He was dressed casually today, wearing a dark gray cashmere sweater, and carrying two cups of freshly brewed Blue Mountain coffee.

"That's too extravagant." Robert took the coffee, somewhat awkwardly stroking the huge desk. "This desk... is probably more expensive than my annual salary."

"It's priceless because it belongs to you." Victor smiled and walked to the window, standing beside him. "Here, you don't need to beg the Congressional Budget Committee for a single penny of office funding. You only need to do one thing: think."

"think?"

"Think about how to get those rigid bureaucrats at the FDA to understand the struggles of innovative companies like ours." Victor turned around, picked up an envelope from the table, and placed it in front of Robert.

The envelope wasn't sealed. Robert glanced inside.

It was a check. The amount was one million dollars.

This was the "first research grant" promised by the Water Foundation. The appointment letter next to it listed his title as "Senior Advisor for Global Regulatory Policy at Water Pharmaceuticals," with an annual salary of $50.

Robert's hands trembled slightly. He had worked at the FDA for thirty years, climbing from a junior inspector to the commissioner, and all his accumulated salary was less than half of this check.

"It's not just about money, Robert."

"This is respect. The market's respect for knowledge and experience!"

Robert swallowed hard and stuffed the envelope into his suit pocket. The thin piece of paper pressed against his chest felt like a branding iron, or like a strong, beating new heart, bringing him new vitality.

"Thank you, Victor." His voice was firmer than before. "I will prove my worth."

......

The proof of its value came faster than expected.

The following morning at 10:00 AM, a high-level strategic meeting was held at Wotech Pharmaceuticals.

Dr. Herman, the R&D director, was furious. He was a typical techie with a receding hairline and exceptional intelligence.

"This is utterly absurd!" Dr. Herman slammed a thick stack of documents on the table. "Our next-generation anticoagulant, 'Hapalin-B,' has shown perfect data in Phase III clinical trials. But those idiots at the FDA—sorry, Robert, I'm not talking about you—those reviewers actually blocked the approval process for such a ridiculous reason as 'failure to report changes in manufacturing processes in a timely manner'!"

"How long have you been stuck?" Victor asked, sitting at the end of the long table.

"It's been two weeks!" Dr. Herman exclaimed, his face flushed with anger. "Pfizer's competitor is launching next month. These two weeks are a race against time! If we can't get approval by the end of the month, we'll lose a whole year's worth of first-mover advantage in the market!"

"What did David say?" Victor asked. David Rossi was now a powerful figure in the FDA.

"Mr. Rossi said he's not in a position to act right now," the head of the legal department interjected. "He's undergoing a background check for the director's nomination, and any administrative intervention targeting lower-level censors could be considered an abuse of power, giving the opposition ammunition. Besides..."

The supervisor paused, glanced at Robert, and said, "And the auditor who's holding us back is notoriously stubborn. He's unyielding and only focuses on compliance loopholes in large companies."

The meeting room was deathly silent. All eyes were on Herman, or on the "new advisor" sitting to Victor's lower right.

Many technical experts believe that spending a lot of money to hire a retired bureaucrat as a "consultant" is a complete waste of resources. Since David Rossi is already in the workforce, why keep an outdated old man on staff?

"Perhaps we need to submit a supplementary explanation..." the head of the legal department cautiously suggested, "to explain that our process changes did not affect the drug's activity."

"That's just going through the motions! The process will take at least three months!" Herman roared. "By then, it'll be too late!"

Victor remained silent. His gaze fell upon Robert.

"Mr. Consultant, what's your opinion?"

Robert Glenn had been sitting quietly, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold. When he heard Victor call his name, he slowly put down his cup.

He didn't look at Hermann, nor at the complex technical charts. He simply asked, "What's the name of the reviewer who's holding up the document?"

Herman paused for a moment, then flipped through the documents: "Uh... Michael Hopkins. Second-level reviewer at the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research (CDER)."

Upon hearing the name, Robert smiled slightly, a hint of mockery and a sense of control in his expression.

“Mike,” Robert said softly, “I recruited that kid five years ago. When he first joined the FDA, I had to teach him how to write a rejection letter. He’s a good kid, but he takes the rules too seriously.”

After saying that, Robert took out a Motorola MicroTAC 9800X that Victor had given him from his pocket. It was the most advanced "portable" phone at the time, but it still had a bulky body and a long retractable antenna.

Dr. Herman watched as the former director pulled out the antenna, flipped open the microphone cover, and pressed a few keys.

The phone was answered after three rings.

"Feed? This is CDER Review Section Two..."

"Mike, it's me." Robert's voice became deep and authoritative, an aura he had cultivated during his five years as bureau chief. "Robert Glenn."

There was a distinct, chaotic clattering sound coming from the other end of the phone, as if someone had jumped up from their chair.

"Chief...Chief? Oh no, Mr. Grant! Good heavens, I never expected to receive a call from you! Are you...are you enjoying your retirement?"

"Not bad, Mike. I'm doing some...academic research right now," Robert said casually. "I'm studying the impact of manufacturing process changes on the approval process. I just came across a case study, Wotal Pharmaceuticals' 'Hapalin-B.' I heard this case is on your desk?"

"Ah...yes, yes." The voice on the other end of the phone stammered a little, "Well...their filing materials have a small problem; the format doesn't quite meet last year's new regulations..."

"Mike," Robert interrupted him, his tone gentle but pressured, "I signed off on that new rule. I remember there was an exemption in the clause for 'non-material changes,' which allowed for a fast track. Have you forgotten?"

"Uh... this..."

"Don't let rigid rules block out truly good medicine, Mike. That's the first lesson I'm teaching you, remember? For the sake of public health."

"Yes! I remember! Of course I remember!"

"Very good." Robert glanced at the clock on the wall. "I want to see this case in the final approval process by next Tuesday. It's very important for a paper I'm currently writing. Can you do me that?"

"No problem! Absolutely no problem! I'll prioritize handling it this afternoon!"

"Thanks, Mike. Let's grab coffee sometime."

"beep--"

Robert closed his phone.

He looked up and found everyone in the conference room staring at him as if he were an alien. Dr. Herman's glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose. Had the knot that had driven him crazy for six months been untied in this less than two-minute phone call?

"It's resolved." Robert picked up his cold coffee again, took a sip, and said, "We'll have results by next Tuesday."

After a brief silence, applause broke out in the conference room.

It started as a sparse murmur, then grew enthusiastic, and finally turned into thunderous cheers. Dr. Herman was even so excited that he wanted to rush over and shake hands.

This is the magic of power.

To technical personnel, it is an insurmountable wall of regulations; but to "insiders," it is nothing more than a thin layer of paper, which can be pierced with just a name, a relationship, or a hint.

Victor sat in the main seat, looking at Robert surrounded by the crowd. He saw the glint in Robert's eyes—a long-lost gleam of vanity, suppressed within the bureaucratic system, now fully satisfied.

He knew that Robert was completely in trouble.

The old man who used to tremble slightly when accepting checks is gone. In his place is a greedy, confident, and morally bankrupt "power broker."

"That's why he's priceless," Victor said to Thor beside him, turning his head slightly.

"This is practically cheating." Thor pushed up his glasses, his eyes filled with envy. "Boss, shouldn't we hire a few more people like this?"

“Of course.” Victor stood up. “Robert was just the first.”

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looked out at the bustling industrial park, his gaze piercing through the New Jersey fog and landing on the distant Potomac River.

"In that city, there are hundreds of censors like Mike, dozens of officials like Robert, and countless councilors."

Victor's voice was both cold and fervent.

"I'm going to make them all employees of Vought Pharmaceuticals. Some are on the roster, some..." He pointed to Robert's retreating figure, "...in my heart."

Outside the window, a truck loaded with new drugs was driving out of the gate. The blue and white logo of Wot Pharmaceuticals gleamed in the sunlight on its side!