Critical

And now, as the final twist of the knife, she'd sucked him into this business with Angels Healthcare that might be putting his life at risk. Of course, he couldn't fault himself. As a business plan, it was terrific. As she had explained to him, the government, in its infinite wisdom, had created a system via Medicare and essentially adopted by all health insurance companies that paid doctors vastly more money for doing procedures than they paid for taking care of people in general. The trick, then, was to recruit a host of physician investors to fund the construction of private hospitals, which did only procedures and avoided all the money-losing ventures, such as ru

Everything had gone according to plan to such an extent that Michael had pooled most of his remaining personal assets just six months ago and committed the capital to Angels Healthcare to strengthen his position before the IPO process started. As any financial analyst knows, diversification is key as an investment strategy, yet Michael was so certain about Angels Healthcare that he'd allowed himself to violate the cardinal rule, and now he was paying big-time in terms of anxiety. His problem was that he hadn't understood the scientific details or the potential economic consequences of the infection problem that had started three and a half months ago in the Angels hospitals. Now he did. He also knew all too well how Vi

Michael glanced back at the entrance to the Neapolitan. It was deceivingly serene, with plastic flowers stuck in the fake window boxes. Even the brick facade was fake. It was fiberglass sheets. There was no coming and going of patrons, because the restaurant wasn't open for lunch except for Vi

Michael checked himself in the rearview mirror and smoothed his hair, which he purposefully wore in the same style as did Vi

Since no particular strategy had come to mind as to how to handle the conversation with Vi

Climbing from his SUV, Michael had to wait for the traffic before crossing Corona Avenue. When Angela had left his office more than an hour earlier after delivering her depressing news about Angels Healthcare's bleak liquidity, Michael had reluctantly decided that he had to talk with Vi

Entering the restaurant, Michael had to push aside a heavy drape that protected nearby tables from the draft of the open door. Then he had to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. To the left was a long bar and a lounge area with a fake fireplace. In the middle of the room was a sea of various-sized tables. All the chairs were upside down on the tables to facilitate the cleaning crew's activities. To the right were a series of six red velvet-upholstered booths, which were considered the most desirable tables. Two of them were occupied. At the first were Franco Ponti, Angelo Facciolo, Freddie Capuso, and Richie Herns. Michael knew them all from Saint Mary's. Of all of them, Franco Ponti was the one who scared Michael the most. It was common knowledge that he was Vi

Vi

"Mikey," Vi

Michael passed the table with the hired hands. "Hey, guys," he said to be respectful. They all nodded but didn't speak.

Vi

With one hand resting on Michael's shoulder, Vi

"Of course," Michael said. Michael took the demurely extended hand and gave it an equally demure shake.

"Sit down, sit down," Vi

Michael slid in on the opposite side, pi

"How about some spaghetti Bolognese?" Vi

Michael agreed to everything rather than start out on the wrong foot. Vi

"So, how are our investments going?" Vi