taps on
every phone in The Ingraham complex. Once he isolated the tap, he
adjusted his headphones and listened in.
The first Quinn Cleary
call was nothing special. 5.06 minutes to her mother, burbling and
sobbing over how happy she was about getting in at last. The
Irish-sounding mother wasn't exactly overjoyed. Didn't sound happy
at all, as a matter of fact. Strange. You'd think a mother would be
jumping for joy that her kid had just got herself a full ride to
the best medical school in the country—in the freaking world .
Well, you couldn't choose your
parents. Couldn't choose the name they gave you, either. What the
hell kind of first name was Quinn, anyway? It made Verran think of
Zorba the Greek. Some parents were weird. Louis's mother, for
instance. He shook his head sadly at the thought of her
tight-lipped mouth and wide, wild eyes. There was one lady who'd
been a few trestles shy of a full-length bridge.
The second call was more interesting.
To a guy named Matt Crawford. The name sounded familiar and Louis
had to smile when he checked it against the name of the kid who
hadn't showed today. Wouldn't tight-ass Alston like to know about
this. The little bitch had pulled a fast one on him.
Hadn't really broken any rules—bent a
couple into pretzels, maybe, but no harm done. And even if she had
trampled a few of Alston's rules, it made no nevermind to Verran.
In fact he kind of admired her ingenuity. She had what his father
used to call pluck. Verran wasn't sure exactly what pluck was, but
he was pretty sure this girl had it.
All the more reason to keep an eye on
her. Not just because the senator had said so, but because kids
with pluck were unpredictable. Louis Verran didn't like
unpredictability, and he loathed surprises.
She finished her call to Crawford and
left the hall phone. Verran cut the feed from the tap.
Yes, Miss Quinn Cleary could bend,
break, even mutilate all the Dr. Alston rules she wished, just so
long as she didn't mess with any of the Louis Verran rules. Those
were the ones that kept The Ingraham operating smoothly and
efficiently and, most crucially, quietly.
You've had your fun, Quinn Cleary, he
thought as he removed his headphones. Now be a good little med
student and keep your nose clean for the next four years and we'll
all love you. But if you don't, I'll know. And I'll land on you
like a ton of bricks.
FIRST SEMESTER
Second quarter sales reports place
Kleederman Pharmaceuticals firmly in the top spot as the
highest-grossing and most profitable pharmaceutical company in the
world.
The New York
Times
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I don't think I can go in
there."
Quinn couldn't believe she was
reacting like this. She stood with her knees locked and her back
pressed against the tiled wall of the hallway. She was afraid she'd
tip over and fall if she moved away from the wall. The tuna fish
sandwich she'd had for lunch seemed to be sitting in the back of
her throat; it wanted out. She hoped her panic wasn't evident to
the other first-year students passing by in their fresh gray lab
coats.
"Sure you can," Tim said. "There's
nothing to it. You just put one foot in front of the other
and—"
"There are dead bodies in there," she
said through her tightly clenched teeth. "Twenty-five of
them.
"Right. That's why they call it the
Anatomy Lab."
Quinn's euphoria at
becoming a member of The Ingraham's student body had been
short-lived. It had floated her along through the first night. All
sixteen women enrolled in The Ingraham—seventeen now with
Quinn—were housed in what they called Women's Country, a cluster of
rooms at the end of the south wing's second floor. The four women
The Ingraham originally had accepted into the new class already had
been paired off together. Since she couldn't very well move into
the room that had been allocated to Matt—despite the protestations
of the guy set to be Matt's roommate that he had absolutely no objections to bunking
with her—Quinn wound
every phone in The Ingraham complex. Once he isolated the tap, he
adjusted his headphones and listened in.
The first Quinn Cleary
call was nothing special. 5.06 minutes to her mother, burbling and
sobbing over how happy she was about getting in at last. The
Irish-sounding mother wasn't exactly overjoyed. Didn't sound happy
at all, as a matter of fact. Strange. You'd think a mother would be
jumping for joy that her kid had just got herself a full ride to
the best medical school in the country—in the freaking world .
Well, you couldn't choose your
parents. Couldn't choose the name they gave you, either. What the
hell kind of first name was Quinn, anyway? It made Verran think of
Zorba the Greek. Some parents were weird. Louis's mother, for
instance. He shook his head sadly at the thought of her
tight-lipped mouth and wide, wild eyes. There was one lady who'd
been a few trestles shy of a full-length bridge.
The second call was more interesting.
To a guy named Matt Crawford. The name sounded familiar and Louis
had to smile when he checked it against the name of the kid who
hadn't showed today. Wouldn't tight-ass Alston like to know about
this. The little bitch had pulled a fast one on him.
Hadn't really broken any rules—bent a
couple into pretzels, maybe, but no harm done. And even if she had
trampled a few of Alston's rules, it made no nevermind to Verran.
In fact he kind of admired her ingenuity. She had what his father
used to call pluck. Verran wasn't sure exactly what pluck was, but
he was pretty sure this girl had it.
All the more reason to keep an eye on
her. Not just because the senator had said so, but because kids
with pluck were unpredictable. Louis Verran didn't like
unpredictability, and he loathed surprises.
She finished her call to Crawford and
left the hall phone. Verran cut the feed from the tap.
Yes, Miss Quinn Cleary could bend,
break, even mutilate all the Dr. Alston rules she wished, just so
long as she didn't mess with any of the Louis Verran rules. Those
were the ones that kept The Ingraham operating smoothly and
efficiently and, most crucially, quietly.
You've had your fun, Quinn Cleary, he
thought as he removed his headphones. Now be a good little med
student and keep your nose clean for the next four years and we'll
all love you. But if you don't, I'll know. And I'll land on you
like a ton of bricks.
FIRST SEMESTER
Second quarter sales reports place
Kleederman Pharmaceuticals firmly in the top spot as the
highest-grossing and most profitable pharmaceutical company in the
world.
The New York
Times
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I don't think I can go in
there."
Quinn couldn't believe she was
reacting like this. She stood with her knees locked and her back
pressed against the tiled wall of the hallway. She was afraid she'd
tip over and fall if she moved away from the wall. The tuna fish
sandwich she'd had for lunch seemed to be sitting in the back of
her throat; it wanted out. She hoped her panic wasn't evident to
the other first-year students passing by in their fresh gray lab
coats.
"Sure you can," Tim said. "There's
nothing to it. You just put one foot in front of the other
and—"
"There are dead bodies in there," she
said through her tightly clenched teeth. "Twenty-five of
them.
"Right. That's why they call it the
Anatomy Lab."
Quinn's euphoria at
becoming a member of The Ingraham's student body had been
short-lived. It had floated her along through the first night. All
sixteen women enrolled in The Ingraham—seventeen now with
Quinn—were housed in what they called Women's Country, a cluster of
rooms at the end of the south wing's second floor. The four women
The Ingraham originally had accepted into the new class already had
been paired off together. Since she couldn't very well move into
the room that had been allocated to Matt—despite the protestations
of the guy set to be Matt's roommate that he had absolutely no objections to bunking
with her—Quinn wound
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