“I’m doing fine,” George said, even though he was constantly short of cash. He couldn’t wait for July 1, when he’d start his residency. Instead of money going out, he’d be getting a salary. It wasn’t going to be great, but anything was better than it was at the moment. Even with his scholarship, he’d assumed a sizable debt.

“If you need any money, let me know.”

“I will,” George said, although he had no intention of asking his grandmother for money. “I’ve never heard of someone selling a life insurance policy. Is that common?”

“Mr. Howard Essen, the man who bought it, said it’s very common.”

“Oh,” George said simply. He told himself he’d try to remember to investigate online such a scenario when he got back to his room. At that point he’d switched the conversation with his grandmother back to her health, which he knew was not good as she was being kept alive by kidney dialysis.

Later when George had looked up “Life Settlements” and read about the issue, he wasn’t happy. It seemed to him that it was one more way that the elderly could be victimized, this time by the financial world. He couldn’t help but worry that his ailing grandmother had been taken advantage of, and such a thought had helped rearrange his priorities.

Grabbing his jacket from the closet, George headed down to the elevators. Once there he briefly thought about Pia, and wondered if he should go up to her room to make sure she was awake. But he hit the down button. Hell, if she was going to be spending the day with Will, she could get herself up. Instead he decided to grab a coffee, rewarding himself with a more leisurely entry into the day than usual.

Chapter 15.

15.

STATISTICAL SOLUTIONS LLC
CHELSEA, NEW YORK CITY
MARCH 3, 2011, 9:17 A.M.

As was his habit, Edmund made sure he and Russell were fashionably late for their meeting at Statistical Solutions headquarters. They were greeted coolly by Henry Green and hustled directly into the same conference room as the previous day. The mood was somber, if not funereal. The room was occupied by a half-dozen people, including the slacker Tom dressed in a plaid shirt, wrinkled, low-riding Bermuda shorts, and flip-flops. Isabel was not to be seen. Two of the other people in the room—a young man and a woman—were dressed in a similar casual vein as Tom; two additional men who were a couple of years older wore dress shirts without jackets, pleated pants, and striped ties. Their haircuts were neat, conservative. The final man was dressed in a full dark suit and had an ostrich briefcase at his side.

Henry Green spoke first. In front of him were several copies of what looked like a bound report.