"One of my own designs— very light and battery-controlled.""You're a cripple?"Manuel gave a strange half smile. "Does it worry you? I do not operate with my feet, but if it concerns you ...""What's the matter with you?"Manuel had dialed a number on his mobile phone, but he didn't connect the call."I was addicted to crack cocaine. My spine was injured in a fall.""Are you still an addict?""I will be for the rest of my life, but I am no longer a user. I've been clean for four years." He held the phone up. "Have you changed your mind?"Mr. Smith hesitated and then gave a curt shake of his head. "Make the call," he said.Manuel wished he had walked out, but his client was obviously satisfied, so he called Enrico to come to the surgery. In contrast to the reception room, the adjoining operating theater was cold. Mr. Smith felt every hair on his body tingle. He was instructed to use a small shower room to scrub his body clean with the disinfectant provided. Then Manuel introduced Enrico, who led Mr. Smith to the table. He had already prepared a row of needles and the vials of Fentanyl. He checked the client's heart rate and blood pressure, which he noted was high—180 over 120. He prepared a vein catheter for Mr. Smiths right hand and found a vein easily, attaching it for the anesthetic to be given. An aspirator machine stood ready for the liposuction; large packs of gauze and two big bottles of Xylocaine and adrenaline, plus dark bottles of iodine were at hand. Different rubber tubes were ready to connect to the cannula tubes, to attach to the liposuction machine. Next, Enrico opened Mr. Smith's gown and, using a paintbrush, painted three quadrants, center of his stomach and to both sides.He checked that there was an oxygen mask ready and a resuscitation machine in full working order. He attached a small clip onto Mr. Smith's index finger, which led to a machine to enable them to read the heartbeat.