Chromosome 6 by Robin Cook Page B
Authors: Robin Cook
Tags: Fiction, General, thriller, Suspense, Medical, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Detective and Mystery Stories, New York (N.Y.), Forensic pathologists, Fiction - Espionage, Medical novels, New York (N.Y.) - Fiction, cook, Onbekend, Equatorial Guinea, Forensic pathologists - Fiction, Robin - Prose & Criticism, Equatorial Guinea - Fiction
Ads: Link
personally don't care what those apes do as long as nothing threatens this windfall money and stock options. The project is turning into a gold mine."
"The new problem has to do with Kevin Marshall," Bertram said.
"Now what in God's name could that skinny simpleton do to get you to worry?" Siegfried asked. "With your paranoia, it's a good thing you don't have to do my job." "The nerd has worked himself up because he's seen smoke coming from the island," Bertram said. "He's come to me twice. Once last week and then again this morning." "What's the big deal about smoke?" Siegfried asked. "Why does he care? He sounds worse than you." "He thinks the bonobos might be using fire," Bertram said. "He hasn't said so explicitly, but I'm sure that's what is on his mind."
"What do you mean 'using fire'?" Siegfried asked. He leaned forward. "You mean like making a campfire for warmth or cooking?" Siegfried laughed without disturbing his omnipresent sneer. "I don't know about you urban Americans. Out here in the bush you're scared of your own shadow." "I know it's preposetrous," Bertram said. "Of course no one else has seen it, or if they have, it's probably from a lightning storm. The problem is, he wants to go out there." "No one goes near the island!" Siegfried growled. "Only during a harvest, and it's only the harvest team! That's a directive from the home office. There are no exceptions save for Kimba, the pygmy, delivering the supplementary food."
"I told him the same thing," Bertram said. "And I don't think he'll do anything on his own. Still, I thought I should tell you about it just the same." "It's good that you did," Siegfried said irritably. "The little prick. He's a goddamned thorn in my side." "There is one other thing," Bertram said. "He told Raymond Lyons about the smoke." Siegfried slapped the surface of his desk with his good hand loud enough to cause Bertram to jump. He stood up and stepped to the shuttered window overlooking the town square. He glared over at the hospital. He'd never liked the epicene bookish researcher from their first meeting. When he'd learned Kevin was to be coddled and accommodated in the second best house in the town, Siegfried had boiled over. He'd wanted to assign the house as a perk to one of his loyal underlings. Siegfried balled his good hand into a fist and gritted his teeth. "What a meddling pain in the ass," he said. "His research is almost done," Bertram said. "It would be a shame if he was to muck things up just when everything is going so well."
"What did Lyons say?" Siegfried asked.
"Nothing," Bertram said. "He accused Kevin of letting his imagination run wild." "I might have to have someone watch Kevin," Siegfried said. "I will not have anyone destroy this program. That's all there is to it. It's too lucrative." Bertram stood up. "That's your department," he said. He started for the door, confident he'd planted the appropriate seed.
CHAPTER 7: MARCH 5, 1997 7:25 A.M.
NEW YORK CITY
THE combination of cheap red wine and little sleep slowed Jack's pace on his morning bicycle commute. His customary time of arrival in the ID room of the medical examiner's office was seven-fifteen. But as he got off the elevator on the first floor of the morgue en route to the ID room, he noticed it was already seven twenty-five, and it bothered him. It wasn't as if he were late, it was just that Jack liked to keep to a schedule. Discipline in relation to his work was one of the ways he'd learned to avoid depression.
His first order of business was to pour himself a cup of coffee from the communal pot. Even the aroma seemed to have a beneficial effect, which Jack attributed to Pavlovian conditioning. He took his first sip. It was a heavenly experience. Though he doubted the caffeine could work quite so quickly, he felt like his mild hangover headache was already on the mend. He stepped over to Vinnie Amendola, the mortuary tech whose day shift overlapped the night shift. He was ensconced as usual at one of
"The new problem has to do with Kevin Marshall," Bertram said.
"Now what in God's name could that skinny simpleton do to get you to worry?" Siegfried asked. "With your paranoia, it's a good thing you don't have to do my job." "The nerd has worked himself up because he's seen smoke coming from the island," Bertram said. "He's come to me twice. Once last week and then again this morning." "What's the big deal about smoke?" Siegfried asked. "Why does he care? He sounds worse than you." "He thinks the bonobos might be using fire," Bertram said. "He hasn't said so explicitly, but I'm sure that's what is on his mind."
"What do you mean 'using fire'?" Siegfried asked. He leaned forward. "You mean like making a campfire for warmth or cooking?" Siegfried laughed without disturbing his omnipresent sneer. "I don't know about you urban Americans. Out here in the bush you're scared of your own shadow." "I know it's preposetrous," Bertram said. "Of course no one else has seen it, or if they have, it's probably from a lightning storm. The problem is, he wants to go out there." "No one goes near the island!" Siegfried growled. "Only during a harvest, and it's only the harvest team! That's a directive from the home office. There are no exceptions save for Kimba, the pygmy, delivering the supplementary food."
"I told him the same thing," Bertram said. "And I don't think he'll do anything on his own. Still, I thought I should tell you about it just the same." "It's good that you did," Siegfried said irritably. "The little prick. He's a goddamned thorn in my side." "There is one other thing," Bertram said. "He told Raymond Lyons about the smoke." Siegfried slapped the surface of his desk with his good hand loud enough to cause Bertram to jump. He stood up and stepped to the shuttered window overlooking the town square. He glared over at the hospital. He'd never liked the epicene bookish researcher from their first meeting. When he'd learned Kevin was to be coddled and accommodated in the second best house in the town, Siegfried had boiled over. He'd wanted to assign the house as a perk to one of his loyal underlings. Siegfried balled his good hand into a fist and gritted his teeth. "What a meddling pain in the ass," he said. "His research is almost done," Bertram said. "It would be a shame if he was to muck things up just when everything is going so well."
"What did Lyons say?" Siegfried asked.
"Nothing," Bertram said. "He accused Kevin of letting his imagination run wild." "I might have to have someone watch Kevin," Siegfried said. "I will not have anyone destroy this program. That's all there is to it. It's too lucrative." Bertram stood up. "That's your department," he said. He started for the door, confident he'd planted the appropriate seed.
CHAPTER 7: MARCH 5, 1997 7:25 A.M.
NEW YORK CITY
THE combination of cheap red wine and little sleep slowed Jack's pace on his morning bicycle commute. His customary time of arrival in the ID room of the medical examiner's office was seven-fifteen. But as he got off the elevator on the first floor of the morgue en route to the ID room, he noticed it was already seven twenty-five, and it bothered him. It wasn't as if he were late, it was just that Jack liked to keep to a schedule. Discipline in relation to his work was one of the ways he'd learned to avoid depression.
His first order of business was to pour himself a cup of coffee from the communal pot. Even the aroma seemed to have a beneficial effect, which Jack attributed to Pavlovian conditioning. He took his first sip. It was a heavenly experience. Though he doubted the caffeine could work quite so quickly, he felt like his mild hangover headache was already on the mend. He stepped over to Vinnie Amendola, the mortuary tech whose day shift overlapped the night shift. He was ensconced as usual at one of
Similar Books
