Robin Cook - Critical

"How about your morning?" Bob asked Angela. "Any luck?"

"Marginal," Angela admitted. "As you mentioned last night, we're seriously drawn down on our credit at the bank after selling the bonds. The good news is that Rodger Naughton assured me he was not going to call any of our loans. The bad news is that he cannot authorize a loan without collateral, which I expected. On the other hand, he's sent the additional loan request up the ladder, but from his attitude, I think we have to assume it's a lost cause."

"What about your ex-husband?" Bob asked. As was the case with all the key employees, Bob was aware that their placement agent had been married to Angela but divorced a year before she founded Angels Healthcare. Although initially hesitant about the relationship, Bob had accepted it. He'd expressed a preference for a more direct relationship with a blue-ribbon investment bank, but had been won over by Michael Calabrese's ability to come up with an outstanding angel investor during their mezzanine round of raising capital.

"I was able to get him to commit another fifty thousand of his own money," Angela said. She did not mention how demeaning the meeting was.

"Bravo!" Carl said.

"It's a bit short of what I would feel comfortable with," Bob said. "I did my best. Getting him to put in the extra money was like squeezing water from a rock."

"Did you discuss the terms?" Bob asked.

"Oh, yeah! You don't think Michael Calabrese would offer that kind of money without rewarding himself."

"What did you offer?"

"I didn't offer; he told me," Angela said, and went on to explain the terms.

"Whoa!" Bob commented. "He's being rather generous with himself."

"It can't be helped under the circumstances," Angela said. "Call him and draw up the documents. I want that money in our account before he changes his mind. I happen to know how fickle he can be."

"Will do," Bob said, typing himself a note on his BlackBerry.

"Okay, that's it," Angela said, placing her palms on her desk as if she were about to stand up. "Except I want to make sure everyone who knows about the MRSA death yesterday understands that the less said about it, the better. I'd like to keep it away from the medical staff as much as possible."

"I've reminded all the hospital CEOs," Carl said. "I also spoke to Pamela Carson in public relations."

"Good," Angela said. "Anything else?"

"There is one thing I just remembered," Bob said. He straightened himself in his chair. "Paul Yang hasn't come into the office today."

"Has he called in sick?" Angela asked. She felt her general anxiety rise another notch.

"No. I left a message on his cell and also e-mailed him, but he hasn't gotten back to me. I don't know where he is."

"Is that odd for him?" Angela asked, while she debated mentioning Michael's possible role.

"Of course it's odd! He's usually so methodical. I even called his wife. She said he didn't come home last night or even call."

"Good God!" Angela said. "Has she called the police?"

"No, she hasn't. He's done this before, although not for a number of years. He'd had a drinking problem, which had led to some odd behavior. His wife told me he'd been out of sorts of late and had gone back to having a cocktail or two on his way home."

"I never knew he had a drinking problem," Angela said. She did not like to be blindsided about any Angels Healthcare employees, particularly key employees.

"I kept it out of his record," Bob said. "I should have told you when I recruited him, but he and I had worked together for something like six years, and he'd been clean."

"Good God!" Angela repeated, raising her eyes to the ceiling for a moment. "Now we have to worry about a drunken binge by our accountant, who's been threatening us all with filing an eight-K. What else can go wrong?" She took a deep breath before looking back at Bob.

"I know he was struggling with his conscience," Bob said. "That's why I called you about him yesterday, to keep you in the loop. Up until then, he hadn't mentioned the problem for over a week. I'd thought it was a non-issue. Apparently, he'd read an article about the sentencing of the Enron and WorldCom people. I told him what I'd told him before, namely that our not filing the eight-K is justifiable. We're not trying to perpetrate a fraud by bilking people out of their savings or retirement funds, which is what the SEC rule is about. In fact, just the opposite! We're creating capital for people."

"After you called me yesterday about him, I called Michael because when you had originally brought the issue to my attention, I had discussed it with him. I thought with his IPO experience he would have a suggestion of how to handle the problem, and he did. He said he knew someone who could talk to him and put his mind at ease by convincing him that filing the eight-K wasn't necessary in our situation."

"Was it a corporate attorney?"

"I have no idea. I didn't ask, but I find myself wondering if talking with Michael's acquaintance could have had anything to do with Paul's not coming to work today."

"It's possible, but I bet the reason for his being incommunicado is more prosaic, like he got himself blotto and is currently sleeping it off in a fleabag hotel."

"Is there any way we could find out if he filed the eight-K?" Angela asked hesitantly.

"Not that I know of," Bob responded. "We'll just have to wait and see if the shit hits the fan." He laughed humorlessly.

"If you think of a way, let me know," Angela said. "It would be best if we know sooner rather than later, so we can prep our general counsel. We'll be forced to come up with a rational explanation of why we didn't file earlier. Maybe you should start giving it some thought, Bob."

Bob nodded.

"What about Paul's secretary?" Carl asked. "Has she heard from him?"

"Not that I know of," Bob said.

"Maybe we should ask her," Angela said, reaching for the phone. "What's her name?"

"Amy Lucas," Carl said.

Angela asked Loren to call Amy Lucas and have her come by ASAP. Angela glanced at her watch. It was twenty after twelve, meaning there was a chance Amy Lucas would be at lunch.

"What's the occasion for the flowers?" Carl asked. "When I saw them, I hoped it had something to do with your morning attempt at raising capital."

"I wish," Angela said. "To tell you the truth, I have no idea who sent them or why."

"Wasn't there a card?" Bob asked.

"There was a card," Angela said, "but it wasn't helpful." She reached for the envelope, slipped out the card, and handed it across the desk. Carl took it, and both men glanced at it.

"What does 'the used one' refer to?" Carl asked.

"Not a clue," Angela admitted. "You don't think it could have anything to do with Paul Yang, do you?"

Both men shook their heads. Carl handed the card back. Angela puzzled over it for a second, and then her phone rang. It was Loren saying Miss Lucas had arrived.

"Send her in," Angela said, tossing the mysterious card to the side.

Loren opened the door, allowed the secretary to enter, then pulled the door shut.

Amy Lucas was a waif-like woman in her mid-twenties. Her features were delicate and her complexion was pale, marred by a sprinkling of acne across her cheeks. Her frizzy blond hair with its lime-green highlights was pulled back from her face and held with a large tortoiseshell clip. Adding to her youthful, almost preteen mien was a simple shirtdress buttoned all the way to her neck. Her hands were clasped in front of her, evincing her nervousness.

Angela introduced herself, since she'd never before met the young woman, and thanked her for coming so quickly.

"No problem," Amy said. "I know who you are."

"Good. And of course you know these gentlemen."

Amy nodded but didn't respond verbally.