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of the diesels made conversation difficult.
    Once the door was closed behind him, Paul was relieved that most of the engine noise vanished, although not the vibration. The decor of the yacht was tastelessly glitzy. There was a large, flat-screen TV with La-Z-Boy recliners grouped in front, a gaming table with chairs, a large L-shaped couch, and an impressively stocked bar. He walked across the room and glanced down a few steps into the galley area, beyond which was a passageway with several closed doors. Paul presumed they were staterooms.
    "Mr. Dominick," Paul called out. There was no answer.
    Paul steadied himself as he felt the engines accelerate and the boat's angle of elevation increase before quickly flattening out. He glanced out the window. The boat had picked up speed. A sudden roar turned Paul's attention back to the door leading to the after-deck. Angelo had come inside, and he approached Paul after pulling the door closed behind him. In full light, Paul was taken aback by the extent of the man's facial scarring. Not only didn't he have eyebrows, he didn't even have eyelashes. Even more startling, his abnormally thin lips were retracted back to the extent that they gave the impression they could not completely close over his yellowed teeth.
    "Mr. Dominick," Angelo announced, extending Paul a cell phone flipped open.
    Suppressing a sudden flash of resentment with the absurdity of the situation, Paul snatched the phone from Angelo. He plopped his laptop case onto the game table, sat down, and put the phone to his ear while watching Angelo drape himself sideways across the arms of one of the La-Z-Boys.
    "Mr. Dominick," Paul snapped with the intention of expressing his irritation and frustration of having been tricked into talking on a cell phone, something that could have been done just as well from the backseat of the car. He also intended to say that he wasn't happy about having a confidential conversation within earshot of Angelo, who made no motion to leave.
    "Listen, my good friend," Vinnie interrupted. "Why don't you call me Vinnie, seeing as though you and me might have to work together to straighten things out at Angels Healthcare. And before I say anything else about that, I want to apologize for not being there in person. That had been the plan, but I had an urgent business problem that needed my immediate attention. I hope you will forgive me."
    "I suppose ..." Paul began, but Vinnie again interrupted.
    "I trust that Franco and Angelo have been treating you with appropriate hospitality, since I'm not there to do it myself. The plan was for them to pick me up at the pier at the Jacob Javits Center, but I'm stuck here in Queens. Tell me! Have they offered you a drink?"
    "No, but I don't need a drink," Paul lied. He was dying for a stiff drink. "What I would like is to be brought back to the marina. You and I can talk on the way."
    "I've already told Franco and Angelo to bring you back," Vinnie said. "Meantime, let's you and I get down to business. I trust that you are now aware of the extent of my interest in Angels Healthcare."
    "I am indeed, and thank you. Angels Healthcare wouldn't be where it is without your generosity."
    "Generosity has nothing to do with my involvement. It is strictly business -- serious business, I might add."
    "Of course," Paul said quickly.
    "As a director through a proxy, I've heard rumors there is a serious problem with short-term cash flow. Is there truth to these rumors?"
    "Before I answer," Paul said, looking over at Angelo as he nonchalantly picked at his fingernails, "one of your men is sitting here within earshot. Is that appropriate?"
    "Absolutely," Vinnie said without hesitation. "Franco and Angelo are like family."
    "In that case, I have to admit the rumors are true. There is a very serious cash-flow problem." Paul's voice had an uncharacteristic lisp, as if his tongue was swollen.
    "And I've also been told that SEC rules require that such a material change in the company's