Acceptable Risk by Robin Cook

spaghetti. I don’t understand it. But anyway, come clean. You guys hit it off, didn’t you?”
    “We enjoyed each other’s company,” Edward admitted. “In fact, we had dinner Friday night.”
    “Perfect,” Stanton said. “As far as I’m concerned that’s as good as sleeping together.”
    “Don’t be so crass.”
    “Truly,” Stanton said cheerfully. “The idea was to get you beholden to me and now you are. The price, my dear friend, is that you have to read this prospectus.” Stanton lifted the brochure from where Edward had irreverently tossed it. He handed it back to Edward.
    Edward groaned. He realized he’d given himself away. “All right,” he said. “I’ll read the blasted thing.”
    “Good,” Stanton said. “You should know something about the company because I’m also in a position to offer you seventy-five thousand dollars a year plus stock options to be on the scientific advisory board.”
    “I don’t have time to go to any damn meetings,” Edward said.
    “Who’s asking you to come to any meetings,” Stanton said. “I just want your name on the IPO offering.”
    “But why?” Edward asked. “Molecular biology and biotech are not my bailiwick.”
    “Chrissake!” Stanton said. “How can you be so innocent? You’re a scientific celebrity. It doesn’t matter you know dit about molecular biology. It’s your name that counts.”
    “I wouldn’t say I know dit about molecular biology,” Edward said irritably.
    “Now don’t get touchy with me,” Stanton said. Then he pointed to the machine Edward was working on. “What the hell is that?”
    “It’s a capillary electrophoresis unit,” Edward said.
    “What the hell does it do?”
    “It’s a relatively new separation technology,” Edward said. “It’s used to separate and identify compounds.”
    Stanton fingered the molded plastic of the central unit. “What makes it new?”
    “It’s not entirely new,” Edward said. “The principles are basically the same as conventional electrophoresis, but the narrow diameter of the capillaries precludes the necessity of an anticonvection agent because heat dissipation is so efficient.”
    Stanton raised his hand in mock self-defense. “Enough,” he said. “I give up. You’ve overwhelmed me. Just tell me if it works.”
    “It works great,” Edward said. He looked back at the machine. “At least it usually works great. At the moment something is wrong.”
    “Is it plugged in?” Stanton asked.
    Edward shot him an exasperated look.
    “Just trying to be helpful,” Stanton joked.
    Edward raised the top of the machine and peered in at the carousels. Immediately he saw that one of the capped sample vials was blocking the carousel’s movement. “Well, isn’t this pleasant,” he said. “The thrill of the positive diagnosis of a remedial problem.” He adjusted the vial. The carousel immediately advanced. Edward closed the lid.
    “So I can count on you to read the prospectus,” Stanton said. “And think about the offer.”
    “The idea of getting money for nothing bothers me,” Edward said.
    “But why?” Stanton said. “If star athletes can sign on with sneaker companies, why can’t scientists do the equivalent?”
    “I’ll think about it,” Edward said.
    “That’s all I can ask,” Stanton said. “Give me a call after you read the prospectus. I’m telling you, I can make you some money.”
    “Did you drive over here?” Edward asked.
    “No, I walked from Concord,” Stanton said. “Of course I drove. What a feeble attempt at changing the subject.”
    “How about giving me a lift over to the main Harvard campus,” Edward said.
    Five minutes later Edward slid into the passenger seat of Stanton’s 500 SEL Mercedes. Stanton started the engine and made a quick U turn. He’d parked on Huntington Avenue near the Countway Medical Library. They traveled around the Fenway and then along Storrow Drive.
    “Let me ask you something,” Edward said after a period of