Alchemist Read Online Free

camera zoomed in on the jacket.
Good girl!
Monty thought.
    â€˜Why have you done that, Dr Bannerman?’
    His voice was big and deep, with a slight Transatlantic accent, reflecting his obsession with Americana. ‘Because no one has the right to patent human life by patenting genes. Genes will ultimately give scientists absolute control over life, but who will control the scientists?’ He thumped his fist hard on the table again. ‘Not governments – they’ll be bought off. No, it’s going to be the pharmaceutical industry. An industry so secretive they don’t even allow you in the door. Is that because they’re worried about you stealing their secrets? No! They’re worried you might find out how much money they’re all making, and how much money they’re paying out as
baksheesh
. Did you know that in 1988 the top eighteen USpharmaceutical companies paid out one hundred and sixty-five million dollars in bribes to doctors?’
    The interviewer flinched. ‘Do you have evidence of that?’
    â€˜Those are figures published by the US Government,’ Bannerman said triumphantly.
    There was a ragged cheer from the rock band who were glued to the monitor. Monty groaned silently. But the interviewer, failing to grab a good story by the nose, rapidly changed the subject once more. Monty sighed her relief.
    â€˜I would imagine, Dr Bannerman, that at this moment you must have every pharmaceutical company in the world beating a path to your doorstep to offer you funding.’
    â€˜And they can turn round and go straight back home, the bastards. They ignored me for thirty years and now suddenly I’m everybody’s best friend. We share seventy per cent of our genes with slime mould – but I think in the pharmaceutical industry the percentage is even higher.’
    Monty closed her eyes and groaned again.
The book
,
do the book
,
Daddy – we need the money!
    Sure, her father had a valid axe to grind, he had a right to be bitter against an industry – and a succession of governments – that held scientists in such low esteem that it forced them to emigrate, or to spend much of their working lives scrabbling around for funding instead of concentrating on their real work. But neither was Dick Bannerman an easy man to work with or to deal with. One of the true
enfants terribles
of science. In spite of his genius, over the years he had not helped himself as much as he might have done; he was nudging sixty now, and age had not mellowed him one bit.
    â€˜How did I do?’ It was always the first question he asked Monty after any interview or speech, a sudden childlike innocence appearing in his brown eyes, as if knowing he had done wrong and not wanting to face up to it.
    She backed her MG carefully out of the bay, then drove slowly towards the exit booth of the underground car park. ‘How do
you
think you did?’ she replied with a smile.
    â€˜Four out of ten?’
    â€˜Maybe five,’ she said.
    â€˜You’re being generous.’
    She paid £2.50 to the attendant at the barrier, then drove into the falling darkness of the South London rush hour.
    â€˜The interviewer was a child,’ Dick Bannerman said, as if in his own defence.
    â€˜At least she’d read the book, which is more than most.’
    â€˜True,’ he said, sounding distant. ‘Very true.’
    Monty recognized the signs of her father lapsing into his own deep thoughts. ‘I think you should call Sir Neil Rorke back,’ she said, continuing a discussion they’d been having before the interview.
    â€˜Think he’ll still want to speak to me?’ he said wryly.
    â€˜If he wasn’t watching Sky News.’
    Sir Neil Rorke was Chairman of the Bendix Schere Foundation, the third largest pharmaceutical company in Britain and ranked high as a world player. In addition to its main business of manufacturing prescription and over-the-counter