BioTech Five was a busy place for a Friday, even busier than usual with the aftermath of Bruce Andrews’s press release the previous day. The reporters were gone, but the activity levels were exaggerated, employees moving briskly about with purpose, fueled by the positive quarterly report on earnings. The company was on a high, and everyone was looking to its CEO as the driving force behind the surge. It was an image Bruce Andrews did little to dispel.
He was in at six, and by nine had made rounds through four of the on-site labs, shaking hands and thanking his staff for their efforts. At nine-fifteen he was back in his office, checking e-mail and waiting for his nine-thirty appointment. He glanced at the lone file on his polished desk and opened it, although he already knew what was inside.
Jennifer Pearce, research scientist with impeccable educational credentials and a proven track record for team management. A Marcon star who, for some reason, had become disillusioned with the pharmaceutical giant and put herself on the market. Her attractive face stared back at him from the cover page, her eyes conveying intelligence and self-confidence. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders, streaked with differing tones of blond and well styled. Her face was lean and her slender, toned neck and shoulders indicated the gym was part of her regular regimen. He liked what he saw.
At precisely nine-thirty, there was a soft knock on his door and his executive assistant ushered Jennifer Pearce into his office. She moved across the expanse of carpet to his desk with confident strides and offered her hand, her eyes locked on his.
“Good morning, Dr. Pearce,” he said, accepting her hand. He was shocked at the strength in her grip but masked his reaction.
“Mr. Andrews,” she replied.
“That sounds pretty formal,” Andrews said, pointing to one of the wingback chairs facing his desk. “If first names are okay with you, I’m Bruce.”
“First names are fine, thank you,” she said, sitting and crossing her legs. She wore a sage-colored pantsuit with a finely knit crew-neck sweater. With the exception of two small diamond-stud earrings, she wore no jewelry.
“It’s a little crazy around here this morning,” he said.“We had a news conference and posted our quarterly profits yesterday. Things went very well.”
“I saw the highlights on the late business report,” she replied. “Veritas seems to be riding a wave right now.”
“One that we’ve worked for,” Andrews said with an easy smile. He glanced at her file, which sat open on his desk. “You spent eight years at Marcon, in their Alzheimer’s research division,” he said, getting right to business. She nodded. “Who did you report to?”
“Allan Connors, one of the regional vice presidents,” she replied. “Sometimes directly to Sheldon Zachery.”
“I know Allan,” Andrews said. “He’s a pretty good guy. Knows his stuff from a technical stance.”
“Very good with the research end of things,” she agreed.
They bandied a string of names back and forth for a few minutes, and Jennifer was impressed with Andrews’s knowledge of who was where and what they were working on. The man had his finger on the pulse of the pharmaceutical industry. She liked the man’s easy manner and quick smile; he was sincere and likable. His knowledge of Alzheimer’s research was impressive from both a technical and management viewpoint. And to Jennifer, that was a key factor. Where Marcon had failed was in their lack of vision. They professed to still be the industry benchmark for R amp;D, but the upper management was decimating the teams working in the research trenches. And ultimately, that had cost Marcon. She had left and taken a potentially huge idea with her.
“We would have you in our Alzheimer’s group, of course,” Andrews was saying. “In fact, what I had envisioned was a second team with you heading it up.”
Jennifer leaned forward slightly. Even with her credentials and experience, it was highly unlikely she would immediately land a team leader position with a new company. “What sort of resources would I have at my disposal?” she asked.
“Ten to twelve researchers with a minimum master’s degree and at least two doctorates in the group. Seven assistant researchers with undergrad degrees and proper maintenance staff for your equipment. Your admin lab would be here, on the second floor of BioTech Five, with an additional six thousand square feet at our facility in White Oak. Most of your time would be spent here.”
“What is White Oak?” she asked.
“The Virginia BioTechnology Research Park at White Oak is a satellite park to this one. There just isn’t enough space in downtown Richmond for all the new high-tech industry, so in 2001 Henrico County and Virginia’s Science Park struck an agreement to set aside over two thousand acres for development. Hewlett-Packard and White Oak Semiconductor are just two companies with major R amp;D facilities at White Oak, and with that sort of muscle going into the new facility, we saw the park as an ideal alternative to the high prices we pay for space here. So we purchased two hundred and eighty thousand square feet of space when it first opened. Turned out to be a great investment; we could sell it now for triple what we paid for it. The only downside is that it’s about forty minutes when traffic is moving. Considerably longer when I-64 is jammed up.”
She nodded. “And what salary would you be offering?”
“I had initially asked the board to clear an offer of two-fifty a year plus bonuses, but I revamped that yesterday, partly because we’ve had such a good first quarter.”
She waited a few seconds. “And what would the other part be?”
He looked confused for a second. “How’s that?”
“You said partly because of your earnings. That would indicate there’s another aspect.”
He smiled. “Yes, there is, Jennifer. The other part is simple. I want you at Veritas. I’m no fool. You are going to have a stack of offers to choose from once you’ve made your rounds of available employers, and I want you to pick us. That’s why I had the board okay an initial offer of three hundred and sixty thousand a year, plus bonuses.”
“What are the bonuses based on?” she asked, her mouth suddenly very dry.
“Timely Phase I and Phase II trials. We can sell a new drug in the pipeline to Wall Street once we have good Phase II results, and that buoys investor confidence. Even if we’re still five years from putting a new Alzheimer’s drug on the shelves, you’ll have earned every cent we’re paying you and your team in increased stock prices.”
“You sound confident I can deliver,” she said.
He shifted slightly in his chair, leaned his elbows on his desk, and steepled his fingers. “I have a lot of respect for anyone coming over from Marcon. Especially a team leader with eight years under her belt. Who knows what insights you’ve managed to garner over that eight years.”
Jennifer leaned back in her chair. This was the one constant in every interview she had had in the last two weeks. What was she bringing with her from Marcon? Did she have something that could translate to a fast-track Phase II trial? To date, her interviewer’s tactics in broaching the subject had varied from aggressive to mouselike. She liked Andrews’s approach-subtle, but on the table.
“I have some ideas that may seem a little out of the box,” she responded. “Would it bother you if my team were to investigate a new approach to the beta amyloid buildup?”
Andrews didn’t give anything away with his body language. “Not if the approach was well grounded. That’s how new drugs are discovered, Jennifer. By researchers thinking outside the box.”
She was thoughtful for a moment. “Should I assume that you’re offering me a position, Bruce?”
He nodded. “Yes. The salary I mentioned and six weeks holidays. Plus you’ll need to relocate to Richmond. We’ll cover all costs of your move, including the sale of your house.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll give your offer serious consideration. I’d like to take about a week to make my decision. By, say, May twentieth. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely,” Andrews said, rising from behind his desk and extending his hand. They shook, and he gave her a business card. “My direct line is on the card if you need to speak further.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Jennifer left BioTech Five feeling upbeat. She liked the building, the company, and she liked Bruce Andrews. And what he was offering was exactly what she was looking for: her own team, autonomy to move her research the direction she wanted, and excellent money. She knew Richmond a bit, having visited a few times, and she liked the city. It was vibrant and progressive, with a thriving theater scene. She would be leaving New Jersey and a lot of very good friends, but with six weeks holidays, she could visit home whenever she felt the urge. And with three-sixty plus bonuses, money wouldn’t be an issue.
She reached her rental car at the same time she reached a decision.
She was moving to Richmond.