Frank Burnet walked into the starkly modern offices of venture capitalist Jack Watson shortly after noon. It was as he had seen it on previous visits. The Mies furniture, the modern art-a Warhol painting of Alexander the Great, a Koons balloon sculpture, a Tansey painting of mountain climbers that hung behind Watson’s desk. The muted phones, the beige carpets-and all the stunning women, moving quietly, efficiently. One woman stood beside Watson with her hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, Frank,” Watson said. He did not stand. “Have you met Jacqueline Maurer?”

“I don’t believe so.”

She shook his hand. Very cool, very direct. “Mr. Burnet.”

“And you know our resident tech genius, Jimmy Maxwell.” Watson nodded to a kid in his twenties, sitting at the back of the room. The kid had thick horn-rim glasses and wore a Dodgers jacket. He looked up from his laptop and waved to Burnet.

“How ya doing?”

“Hi, there,” Burnet said.

“I asked you to come in,” Watson said, shifting in his chair, “because we are very nearly finished with the entire business. Ms. Maurer has just negotiated the license agreement with Duke University. On extremely favorable terms.”

The woman smiled. A sphinx-like smile. “I get on with scientists,” she said.

“And Rick Diehl,” Watson continued, “has resigned as the head of BioGen. Winkler and the rest of the senior staff have gone with him. Most of them face legal troubles, and I am sad the company will not be able to assist them. If you break the law, the company’s insurance policy does not cover you. So they’re on their own.”

“Unfortunate,” Jacqueline Maurer said.

“So it goes,” Watson said. “But given the present crisis, the BioGen board of directors has asked me to take over, and put the company back on its feet. I have agreed to do so for an appropriate equity adjustment.”

Burnet nodded. “Then it all went according to plan.”

Watson gave him an odd look. “Uh, yes. In any case, Frank, nothing more prevents you from returning home to your family. I am sure your daughter and grandson will be happy to see you.”

“I hope so,” Burnet said. “She’s probably angry. But it’ll work out. It always does.”

“That’s right,” Watson said. Still seated, he extended his hand, wincing a little.

“Everything all right?” Frank said.

“It’s nothing. Too much golf yesterday, I pulled something.”

“But it’s good to take time off from work.”

“So true,” Watson said, flashing his famous smile. “So very true.”