You wanted this. I agreed to help.”
“To help? I think you did more than help.”
“I don’t want to be involved. That was the agreement.”
Liza rolled her eyes. “So technical. Agreements. Transactions.” She ran her foot down the side of his leg. “To use
your
terminology, our little merger was not only successful—but fantastic as well.”
Greenway gently replaced her foot on the floor and stood. “I have to see your patients on rounds, remember?”
She put her foot back on his knee. “They’ll wait for you.” He pushed her leg off. “No, they won’t.”
Before leaving through the office door, he motioned to the robotic console. “I’m sure he will keep you company.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blues City Café sits near the corner of Second and Beale in downtown Memphis. Known for its rustic interior, cold beer, and barbecue to die for, Blues City is a favorite of locals and tourists alike.
Liza French sat in a corner booth. She had not yet removed a pair of dark sunglasses. Eli slid into the booth seat across from her.
“Doctor.”
Eli greeted her the same way.
“So, is robotic surgery the next big thing?” Liza asked.
Eli took in the room. A little early yet for the lunch crowd. Only two other tables were occupied. The foot traffic on Beale was picking up. A couple peered through the front door, indecisive about their lunch destination.
“It’s another excuse for surgeons to keep their hands out of the abdomen.” Eli smiled. “Just my opinion.”
“Your hands are better than a million-dollar robot?”
Eli uncurled his fists, palms up. Two fingers on his left hand did not follow the others and remained bent like a claw. “They
used
to be pretty damn good.”
Liza slid her hands under Eli’s and closed them like a book. “I remember those hands very well,” she said, kicking him beneath the table.
Eli wasn’t ready to revisit that part of their past. He pulled his hands away.
A waitress came to their table. Eli ordered a pulled pork barbecue sandwich. Liza a glass of unsweetened iced tea.
“What do you know about the CEO Bass and his company of robots?”
“He believes in his company, I know that,” she said.
“You trust him?”
Liza pulled her shades down. “I don’t trust anyone anymore.”
“But he supports your robotic surgery program?”
“He did. There
is
no program of robotic surgery anymore.” Liza leaned a little closer, lowered her voice. “I had to meet with the chief of staff, the hospital attorney, and the president of the university.”
“Tall company you keep.”
“It was a party, let me tell you.”
“They’re pulling your program, I take it?”
“I thought that was the worst that could happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a criminal investigation.”
Eli knew this already. He had spoken personally with the federal agents. And after what he had seen at the company’s workshop, he agreed an investigation was necessary.
“They’re cracking down on biomedical device companies,” Eli told her. “Regulation has been much too loose.”
Liza raised her voice. “I’m not talking about the damn company, Eli.” She changed to a softer tone. “The criminal charges are against me.”
The waitress served Eli’s sandwich and Liza’s tea. The barbeque was piled high on the sandwich. She took a drink. Eli’s mouth watered. But it didn’t seem the appropriate time for a mouthful. He wondered whether Liza expected him to help her in a criminal investigation. The only assistance he could offer was what he knew about the company. And what might have happened in the operating room.
“Do you still think the cause was device failure?”
“Yes, it had to be. We were practically finished with the operation. An aberrant signal must have activated the robotic arm and caused the vascular injury.” Liza picked up her tea, then set the glass down without drinking. “Don’t you believe me?”
Eli answered indirectly. “There was an
“To help? I think you did more than help.”
“I don’t want to be involved. That was the agreement.”
Liza rolled her eyes. “So technical. Agreements. Transactions.” She ran her foot down the side of his leg. “To use
your
terminology, our little merger was not only successful—but fantastic as well.”
Greenway gently replaced her foot on the floor and stood. “I have to see your patients on rounds, remember?”
She put her foot back on his knee. “They’ll wait for you.” He pushed her leg off. “No, they won’t.”
Before leaving through the office door, he motioned to the robotic console. “I’m sure he will keep you company.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blues City Café sits near the corner of Second and Beale in downtown Memphis. Known for its rustic interior, cold beer, and barbecue to die for, Blues City is a favorite of locals and tourists alike.
Liza French sat in a corner booth. She had not yet removed a pair of dark sunglasses. Eli slid into the booth seat across from her.
“Doctor.”
Eli greeted her the same way.
“So, is robotic surgery the next big thing?” Liza asked.
Eli took in the room. A little early yet for the lunch crowd. Only two other tables were occupied. The foot traffic on Beale was picking up. A couple peered through the front door, indecisive about their lunch destination.
“It’s another excuse for surgeons to keep their hands out of the abdomen.” Eli smiled. “Just my opinion.”
“Your hands are better than a million-dollar robot?”
Eli uncurled his fists, palms up. Two fingers on his left hand did not follow the others and remained bent like a claw. “They
used
to be pretty damn good.”
Liza slid her hands under Eli’s and closed them like a book. “I remember those hands very well,” she said, kicking him beneath the table.
Eli wasn’t ready to revisit that part of their past. He pulled his hands away.
A waitress came to their table. Eli ordered a pulled pork barbecue sandwich. Liza a glass of unsweetened iced tea.
“What do you know about the CEO Bass and his company of robots?”
“He believes in his company, I know that,” she said.
“You trust him?”
Liza pulled her shades down. “I don’t trust anyone anymore.”
“But he supports your robotic surgery program?”
“He did. There
is
no program of robotic surgery anymore.” Liza leaned a little closer, lowered her voice. “I had to meet with the chief of staff, the hospital attorney, and the president of the university.”
“Tall company you keep.”
“It was a party, let me tell you.”
“They’re pulling your program, I take it?”
“I thought that was the worst that could happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a criminal investigation.”
Eli knew this already. He had spoken personally with the federal agents. And after what he had seen at the company’s workshop, he agreed an investigation was necessary.
“They’re cracking down on biomedical device companies,” Eli told her. “Regulation has been much too loose.”
Liza raised her voice. “I’m not talking about the damn company, Eli.” She changed to a softer tone. “The criminal charges are against me.”
The waitress served Eli’s sandwich and Liza’s tea. The barbeque was piled high on the sandwich. She took a drink. Eli’s mouth watered. But it didn’t seem the appropriate time for a mouthful. He wondered whether Liza expected him to help her in a criminal investigation. The only assistance he could offer was what he knew about the company. And what might have happened in the operating room.
“Do you still think the cause was device failure?”
“Yes, it had to be. We were practically finished with the operation. An aberrant signal must have activated the robotic arm and caused the vascular injury.” Liza picked up her tea, then set the glass down without drinking. “Don’t you believe me?”
Eli answered indirectly. “There was an
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