"In another week," I told him, "you'll be held for malpractice and indicted for fraud—unless—"
"Unless I cut you in, I suppose," he sneered.
"Unless you give me another drink," I said after a suitable dramatic pause.
Cunningham pulled one eyebrow down, nonplussed, but he handed over the liquor. I choked on a swallow as Sue's voice cut over my shoulder, "I left you to play patty-cake, and now it's spin-the-bottle. Are you down to business, or shall I leave again?"
John said, "Stay here, kid, Doctor Hammerhead has an idea."
She came over and deliberately leaned up against him. He put his arm around her waist in what I tried to believe was a fraternal gesture.
"The name is Klinghammer," I said. "Don't antagonize me. I'm trying to help you."
Doctor Calicoo had recovered any selfcomposure she may have mislaid in the tunnel. She said sarcastically, "It couldn't be that you are trying to figure a way out of this for yourself, could it?"
"Quit patronizing, both of you," I snapped. "You both know this will be embarrassing to the Board. But all I face is a big blush and an international horse-laugh. I'll grant you, we probably can't confiscate the machines. But my testimony could easily damn you for unethical practices if nothing else. With luck I might get you for fraud, too."
A look of synthetic concern passed between them. I took another drink. "I would like to know what possible justification you have for retaining the right to call yourself a medical man, Cunningham."