Critical by Robin Cook

exciting."
    "Right now, it's more anxiety-producing than exciting. I need to raise about two hundred thousand dollars to shore up our liquidity to get to the IPO."
    Chet whistled through his teeth. He was impressed, and gathered that Angela had to be a rather high-level executive. "Is the company going to be able to do it?"
    "I try to be optimistic, especially since the investment-banking gurus promise the IPO will be a sellout. Maybe you, as a board-certified physician, would like to invest. We can certainly make it worth your while with interest or equity or both. We do have a lot of physician investors: more than five hundred, to be exact."
    "Really?" Chet questioned. "What kind of company is it?"
    "It's called Angels Healthcare. We build and run specialty hospitals."
    "I suppose that means you know something about doctors."
    "You could say that," Angela agreed.
    "Sadly, I'm not as liquid as I'd like at the moment," Chet said. "Sorry."
    "No problem. If you change your mind, give us a call."
    "Well," Chet voiced, obviously wanting to change the subject. "Are you single or married, or somewhere in between?"
    Back to the come-on, Angela thought. All at once, she didn't care to keep up her side of the conversation. She'd been amused, but suddenly she felt tired, which had been the goal. She wanted to go home. "Divorced," she said, and then added what she thought would be a turn-off. "I'm divorced, and I live with my ten-year-old daughter, who is home sleeping."
    "I guess that rules out your apartment," Chet said. "I'm single -- very single, actually -- and I have a terrific apartment just around the corner. How about a nightcap?"
    "And see your etchings, I suppose. Sorry. I've got both my daughter and the two hundred thousand dollars to think about." Angela waved to one of the waiters and motioned for the check.
    "I'll take care of the check," Chet said magnanimously.
    "No, you won't!" Angela said with a voice that brooked no disagreement. "I'm afraid I used you, in a way. As penance I insist."
    "Used me?" Chet questioned with a confused expression. "What do you mean?"
    "It would take much too long to explain, and I've got to get home."
    Chet acted a tad desperate as Angela signed the check to her house account. "How about dinner tomorrow night?" he suggested when she'd finished.
    "That's very generous of you, but I'm afraid I can't take the time. I'm not sure what to expect at the office tomorrow."
    "But it would give you a chance to explain how you, quote, 'used me,'" Chet said. "I certainly don't feel used, and I've truly enjoyed meeting you. If I've offended you, I apologize. I promise I won't be so flippant. It's just an act."
    Mildly surprised at Chet's willingness to reveal what seemed to be vulnerability, Angela stuck out her hand as she got to her feet.
    While shaking hands, she said, "I've enjoyed your company. I mean that. Maybe after the IPO we can have another drink or even a dinner."
    "I'd like that," Chet said, regaining his aplomb. "And it will be my treat."
    "It's a deal," Angela said, knowing that now it was her turn to be the one less sincere.
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    APRIL 3, 2007 7:15 A.M.
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    "Listen," Dr. Jack Stapleton said with uncamouflaged irritation, "I'm lucky to have gotten on Dr. Wendell Anderson's schedule. Hell, he does all the knees for all the high-priced athletes in the city. There has to be a reason, and the reason is he's obviously the best. If I cancel for this Thursday, I might not get back on the schedule for months. The man is that busy."
    "But you only tore your ACL a week ago," Dr. Laurie Montgomery said with equal emotion. "Obviously, I'm not an orthopedic surgeon, but it stands to reason that operating on your knee, which has been so recently traumatized, is taking added risk. For God's sake, your knee is still twice its normal size, and your abrasions haven't completely healed."
    "The swelling has come down a lot," Jack said. "Did the doctor suggest you have the surgery this