Who needs Ben's advice on a $20 million purchase

(from p. 24 of the novel)

     Dr. Broadmoore seemed vaguely reminiscent of an English field officer in one of those 1950-1960s World War II movies.  ...
     ...  Broadmoore's physiognomy could command that type of respect. In fact, his whole body could be described by the simple word that was part of his name -- broad. His broad hand completely encircled mine as we clasped, and his broad shoulders provided a solid platform as his muscular arm pumped mine. Broad chest and hips supplied weight and inertia. And his broad forehead crowned an open face, now bearing a friendly smile.
     "I am so pleased to meet you, Dr. Candidi. Geoffrey has told me so much about you. Such a glowing description." Broadmoore's English accent was also broad, in marked contrast to Westley's carefully-controlled Cambridge/Oxford variety. Broadmoore's large-boned, muscular vigor also set him apart from the more sedentary, pudgy, yet polished Westley. I wondered if Broadmoore was from northern England.
     He shook hands with the standard formality practiced by old school Englishmen, leaning forward and extending his arm while shaking my hand, thus retaining the greatest distance between our centers of gravity. It would have been awkward to have stood this way for very long. As our hands disengaged, he rocked back onto his heels, regaining social equilibrium at a comfortable distance.  ...
     ...  After putting us through several rounds of anglophilic small talk, Dr. Westley found an excuse to leave the room.
     Seated on opposite ends of Dr. Westley's couch, Dr. Broadmoore and I each did our best to keep the conversation alive. It took us a while to get into the job interview because I kept waiting for Broadmoore to make the first move. I started asking him leading questions about the companies he had founded.
     "My modus operandi is no more complicated than that of an Arab trader at the bazaar: Buy on the cheap and sell dearly. Of course, I deal in a better class of property -- improved medications for the good of Mankind."
     "At what stage do you buy?" I asked, slipping into a journalistic mode that has always worked well for me when dealing with things I knew absolutely nothing about.
     "Usually at the lab bench stage, where the commercial potential is relatively unevaluated. There, the technology may be worth $50,000. Sometimes, at the idea stage where we have nothing but the inventor's enthusiasm. There, the technology may be worth $10,000."
     "At what stage do you sell the technologies?" I asked, hoping to set up an instructional rhythm and learn a lot in the process.
     "We generally sell it as a clinically-tested technology. We usually exit after a successful IND but before multicenter human testing.
     I wasn't sure what an "IND" was, but I had some conception of the magnitude of "multicenter human testing." I asked, "How many patients do you test in the IND stage?"