Given the unpleasant exchange that had taken place with Charles Newcomber over the surgical referral for Grace Peng Davis, Will decided that a frontal assault on the man was the way to go rather than trying to call and set up an appointment. Shortly after Will left home for the drive to the cancer center, Augie Micelli called his cell phone and insisted that he pull off to the side of the road. “Okay, now,” the attorney said, “give it to me once more. I want to hear your account of the day you passed out in the OR—inch-by-inch, moment-by-moment. I want everything.” “I just spent a while this morning retracing every move I could remember.” “Okay, tell me about that, too. There’s a hole in this someplace and we’ve got to find it.” The Law Doctor sounded vibrant, focused, and energized—a completely different man from the one Will had watched get progressively drunk during their first meeting. Sounding very much like a courtroom barrister, he guided Will through his account with carefully phrased, incisive questions designed to coax out information without being leading.
