The Pain Peddlers

Начало книги

The phone bleeped. Northrop nudged the cut-in switch and heard Maurillo say, “We got a gangrene, chief. They’re amputating tonight.”

Northrop’s pulse quickened at the thought of action. “What’s the tab?” he asked.

“Five thousand, all rights.”

“Anesthetic?”

“Natch,” Maurillo said. “I tried it the other way.”

“What did you offer?”

“Ten. It was no go.”

Northrop sighed. “I’ll have to handle it myself, I guess. Where’s the patient?”

“Clinton General. In the wards.”

Northrop raised a heavy eyebrow and glowered into the screen. “In the wards?” he bellowed. “And you couldn’t get them to agree?”

Maurillo seemed to shrink. “It was the relatives, chief. They were stubborn. The old man, he didn’t seem to give a damn, but the relatives—”

“Okay. You stay there. I’m coming over to close the deal,” Northrop snapped. He cut the phone out and pulled a couple of blank waiver forms out of his desk, just in case the relatives backed down. Gangrene was gangrene, but ten grand was ten grand. And business was business. The networks were yelling. He had to supply the goods or get out.

Читать дальше →