*Godplayer *MORTAL FEAR *HELL

*Godplayer *MORTAL FEAR *HELL

Robin Cook: Godplayer

In Boston Memorial Hospital the incidences of sudden surgical death have reached epidemic proportions. Post-operative patients are dying without reason. Pathologist Robert Seifert has found a pattern among the victims. They’re mentally defective or terminally ill. Somebody has the knowledge and access to kill them. Maybe Seifert knows who it is… but he is hospitalised for minor surgery and becomes the next victim. If a sane surgeon holds the power of life and death, just how insane does he have to be to start playing God?

Robin Cook: MORTAL FEAR

Jason Howard used his career as a doctor to escape a private tragedy. Until his own patients started dying from massive heart attacks.

When his own colleague Hayes becomes the next victim, Jason is finally forced to act. A decision that could cost him his life…

Before his death, Doctor Alvin Hayes had been on the verge of a secret medical breakthrough. What was one more murder to the conspirators who had inherited his crown?

***  

Jason had been hospitalized for three days following surgery on the wound in his leg. The pain had lessened significantly and the nursing staff at General was superbly competent and attentive. Several of them even remembered Jason as a resident.

But the best part of his hospitalization was that Carol spent most of each day with him, reading out loud, regaling him with funny stories, or just sitting in companionable silence.

“When you’re all better,” she said on the second day as she rearranged flowers that had come from Claudia and Sally, “I think we should go back to the Salmon Inn.”

“What on earth for?” Jason said. After their experience, he couldn’t imagine wanting to revisit the place.

“I’d like to try Devil’s Chute again,” Carol said cheerfully. “But this time in daylight.”

“You’re kidding!”

A soft cough made them turn to the doorway. Detective Curran’s disheveled bulk looked distinctly out of place in the hospital.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, Dr. Howard,” he said with uncharacteristic politeness.

“Not at all,” Jason said. “Mostly muscle injury. Not going to be a problem at all.”

“I’m glad.”

“Candy?” Carol asked, extending a box of chocolates that the GHP secretaries had sent.

Curran examined them carefully, chose a chocolate-covered cherry, and plopped it whole into his mouth. Swallowing, he said, “I thought you’d like to know how the case is developing.”

“Absolutely,” Jason said.

“First of all, they picked up Juan up in Miami. He has a sheet mile long. You name it. He’s one of Castro’s gifts to America. We’re going to try to extradite him to Massachusetts for Brennquivist’s and Lund’s murders. Seems four or five other states want the creep for similar capers, including Florida.”

“Can’t say I feel very sorry for him,” Jason said.

“The guy’s a psychopath,” Curran agreed.

“What about GHP?” Jason asked. “Have you been able to prove that the releasing factor for the death gene was introduced into the eyedrops used by the ophthalmological office?”

“We’re working closely with the DA’s office on it,” Curran said. “It’s turning out to be quite a story.”

“How much do you feel will be made public?”

“At this point we aren’t certain. Some will have to come out. The Hartford School’s closed and the parents of those kids aren’t blind. Furthermore, as the DA points out, there’s a slew of local families with million-dollar lawsuits to file against the GHP.”

“I guess I owe you an apology, doctor,” Curran said. “At first I thought you were just a pain in the ass. But it turns out you’re responsible for bustling the deadliest conspiracy I’ve ever heard of.”

“If I hadn’t been with Hayes the night he died, we doctors would have thought we were battling some new epidemic.”

“This guy Hayes must have been a smart cookie,” Curran said.

“Genius,” Carol said.

“You know what bugs me the most?” Curran said. Until the end Hayes thought he was working on a discovery to help mankind. Probably thought he was working on a discovery to help mankind. Probably thought he’d be a hero, like Salk. Nobel prizes and all that. I’m not a scientist, but it seems to me Hayes’s whole field of research is pretty damned scary. You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jason said. “Medical science has always assumed its research would save lives and reduce suffering. But now science has awesome potential. Things can go either way.”

“As I understand it,” Curran said, “Hayes FOUND A DRUG THAT MAKES PEOPLE AGE AND DIE IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS. Makes me think you eggheads are out of control. Am I wrong?”

“I agree,” Jason said. “Maybe we’re getting too smart for our own good. It’s like eating the forbidden fruit all over again.”

“Yeah, and WE’RE GOING TO GET KICKED RIGHT OUT OF PARADISE,” Curran added. “Incidentally, doesn’t Uncle Sam have watchdogs overseeing guys like Hayes?’

“They don’t have a very good record on this sort of thing,” Jason explained. “Too many conflicts of interest. Besides, both doctors and laymen tend to believe all medical research is inherently good.”

“Wonderful,” snorted Curran. “It’s like a car barreling down the freeway at a hundred miles an hour with no driver.”

“That’s probably the best analogy I’ve ever heard,” Jason said.

“Oh, well.” The detective shrugged his huge shoulders. “At least we can deal with GHP. Formal indictments are coming down soon. Of course, the whole pack is out on bail. But the case has broken wide open, with all the principals stabbing each other in the back. Seems that friend Hayes originally approached some guy by the name of Ingelbrook.”

“Ingelnook. He’s one of the GHP vice presidents,” Jason said. “I think he’s in finance.”

“Must be,” Curran said. “Apparently Hayes approached him for seed capital to front a company.”

“I know,” Jason said.

The detective looked hard at him. “Did you, now? And just how did you know about that, Dr. Howard?”

“It’s unimportant. Go on.”

“Anyway,” Curran said, “Hayes must have told Ingelnook that he was about to develop some kind of elixir of youth.”

“That would have been AN ANTIBODY TO THE DEATH-HORMONE RELEASING FACTOR,” Jason said. “It’s all finally making sense to me. Please – go on.”

“Ingelwood must have LIKED THE DEATH HORMONE BETTER THAN THEN THE ELIXIR OF YOUTH,” curran continued. “For some time he’d been racking his brains about lowering costs at GHP to keep them competitive. So far the conspiracy involves six people, but there may be more. They’ve been responsible for eliminating a lot of patients. Nice, huh?”

“So they killed them,” Carol said with horror.

“Well, they kept telling themselves that the process was natural,” Curran said.

“Some excuse for murder – we’re all going to die anyway,” Jason commented bitterly. The faces of some of his recently deceased patients rose to haunt him.

“In any case, it’s the end of GHP,” Curran said.

(From Robin Cook: MORTAL FEAR, Pan Books/Macmillan.)

HELL

ALIENS of Bollywood, Tollywood etc. and ALIEN politicians, journalists, “sadhus”, judges etc. are going through horrifying HELL.

DISTRUST

I don’t trust Maneka Gandhi, wife of Sanjay Gandhi, the notorious second son of Indira Gandhi. (I am sure that clones have been made from Indira Gandhi’s “asthi” [forehead bone]. Indira sounds like Indra. There is NO PROOF at all that Sanjay Gandhi was “killed” in a helicopter crash: his “dead” body was not found; I suspect that Sanjay Gandhi now lives in a deceptive new reincarnation, perhaps as Sanjay Jha, Congress spokesman and Director of Dale Carnegie Centre, India. Notice that the spelling Maneka is NOT the same as Menoka.) I don’t trust unprincipled “lawyer” Indira Jaiswal. Unethical Smriti Irani has a fake degree.

ALIEN POLITICIANS

Don’t believe privileged alien politicians – male or female.

AVOIDING SEXY GALS

Omniscient God has eluded unethical sexy gals because He knows their true nature.

Kishalay Sinha [G]