Let Charlie and Frank take care of this one, Fortelka decided to himself, and that kid Finkel. For once I’m glad to be just an administrator, and not put on the smock, and not take any responsibility for this case. Because this patient, though Fortelka didn’t know his full story, had to have connections. Nobody innocent comes into emergency with six slugs in the gut. This guy had connections, both good and bad. The bad wouldn’t bother the guy for now, but the good—his friends and associates—would probably be a problem. They would want him patched up perfectly, good as new, back to work in a few days. And if the surgeons didn’t do that, no matter how bad off the guy was when was brought in, there would’ve been trouble for them. Assuming the guy had the connections that Fortelka suspected he had. No surgery for me, he thought, I’ll just consult for a few minutes and then clear out. Don’t put my name on the paperwork, don’t even tell anyone I was here. Charlie is a fan of this sort of thing, loves the excitement, the danger, the stories he can tell afterwards. Let him do the surgery. This guy probably won’t make it. Keep my name out of this.