Cold Murder

H.C Hannah

Description

Deep in the East End of London, emergency healthcare faces its sharpest challenges. As Cherry Blossom, a brand new designer drug, begins to claim the lives of unexpected victims, airline pilot Adam Dorivan must compromise his integrity in a highly illegal and dangerous courier flight to save his closest friend, Elise Staar, from a murderer who knows their every move.The mysterious creator of Cherry Blossom is hiding in plain sight when his paranoia exposes him in a deadly climax on a London hospital helipad.

Informations

• Publié par: H. C. Hannah
• Date de parution: 14 décembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781912317714
• Langue: English

Extrait

COLD MURDER
H.C. Hannah
Copyright © 2017 by H.C. Hannah
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
ISBN: 9781978395176
CONTENTS
Author s note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Author s note:
The hospital featured in this book is a real place. It is a place very close to my heart, where every day doctors, nurses and other healthcare practitioners work tirelessly, delivering care of the highest quality to their patients. But while the hospital is real, and I have tried to portray it as accurately as possible, all characters - both staff and patients - are entirely fictitious and bear no resemblance to any person in real life.
PROLOGUE
First do no harm…
No one is really sure of the origin of this phrase, translated from the Latin primum non nocere . Although the Hippocratic Oath (c. 400 B.C.) attributed to the ancient Greek physician Hippocrates includes the promise to “abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous” it is possible that the maxim central to clinical pharmacology and the education of medical students comes from a different source entirely. In spite of this timeless mystery, to this day, the phrase serves as a compelling reminder that with every medical and pharmacological decision there is also the potential for harm.
This book is dedicated to the doctors, nurses, paramedics and myriad healthcare staff with whom I have had the privilege of working.
CHAPTER ONE
Friday, October 31
He worked in silence. Wasn’t that what his father had always told him? Never ever listen to music or the TV while you are concentrating. It distracts the mind, it divides your focus, and you must never ever allow your attention to be diverted away from the task at hand if you are to be the best . He had resented his father for many reasons, most of which he had lost count by now, but he still wanted to be the best. Once a CEO of a global pharmaceutical company, his father had been the best at what he did. His father’s story was one of success and prosperity; he had been admired and respected by everyone, unlike the pathetic failure of his youngest son who had so far been unable to live up to any expectations. But that was about to change. It was a shame his father wasn’t here to stand corrected over the years of hateful comments, but the old man was better off dead.
He returned his thoughts to the array of elaborate equipment on the grey formica work surface in front of him. He swivelled the neck of a lamp around and leaned forward, wiping sweat from his forehead with an arm. Intense work. In spite of the lamp, he squinted in the dim light of the dingy east London apartment. A dirty, white Venetian blind hung lopsided across the window which overlooked the dreary street below. The blind was always drawn. The room, a drab open plan kitchen and spartan lounge separated by the work surface, was filled with a pungent aroma: the strong smell of cherries. The only noise was a faint gurgling from the water heater in the bathroom next door, and cars and foot traffic from the street below.
Suddenly, another sound filled the emptiness of the room: the ring of his cell phone. He jumped and looked around for it in panic. Never ever let the telephone ring more than three times , his father would say. If you keep your customers waiting, they’ll go elsewhere . The words resonated from the old fool’s grave; he had died — some would say tragically — in a boating accident two summers ago. There had been an investigation at the time, but no one had been able to piece together exactly what had occurred; the circumstances of his death were eventually recorded as accidental.
He snatched up his cell phone on the third ring; there was no time to check the caller ID before the fourth ring began. He forced a smile. It was more of a grimace, but it was second nature, ingrained in him. Always smile when you answer the telephone. Your customers will know that you are smiling by the tone of your voice. Your customers will want to do business with a company where the people on the phones are smiling and friendly.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. We need to talk.’
‘Do we? About what exactly?’ The grimace disappeared and the voice hardened.
‘I - I’d rather talk in person. If that’s okay?’
‘It’s not okay. What do you want?’
The caller took a breath and seemed to hesitate before deciding to continue.
‘I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. There’s too much at stake.’
The gurgling from the water heater. A roar from the traffic in the street. Silence.
‘You do realise the implications of your withdrawing from our… understanding?’
‘Implications?’ The voice quivered slightly.
‘Mmmm. Had you thought of those?’ He walked across the lounge and carefully lifted one of the slats of the blind, peering down into the street.
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Ah. Well then, let me be clear. We had an agreement. A verbal contract, if you will. If one party breaks the contract, there’s a price to pay, you know, like a forfeit. It’s how businesses operate.’
‘Right. But I want to get out of the contract.’
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
‘Why not? What are you going to do?’
‘It’s better that you don’t choose to find out.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
The grip tightened around the cell phone, the knuckles of his hand blanched white. The breathing became faster and the look of anger intensified in his eyes.
‘Understood,’ he said slowly, removing the phone from his ear. As he placed it on the grey formica, he touched the screen with a shaking finger and ended the call.
CHAPTER TWO
Some homes are just made for a Halloween party. The home of Martin McGrady, the permanently suntanned deputy chief pilot of EuropAmerican Airlines, was built of grey granite with two imposing towers reaching just above the slate roof. Even the weather was cooperating; a warm front had arrived, depositing a thin ground mist over the evergreen-studded parkland. The wrought iron gates at the end of the driveway would surely have creaked, had they moved. The party was for employees and friends of the airline, among whom was one of Martin’s senior first officers, Adam Dorivan, and his girlfriend Elise Staar. Adam was dressed all in black as the grim reaper, complete with plastic scythe, although the ill-fitting costume was beginning to chafe his neck. Elise, who was slim and athletic and looked stunning in whatever she wore, was in one of her old nurse’s uniforms which had been hastily stained with fake blood.
‘Isn’t that a bit near the mark?’ Adam had asked, with a raised eyebrow.
‘Perhaps,’ Elise had replied, ‘but there was so little time to get ready after my shift. I just hope it’s not too terrible.’
It was All Hallows’ Eve and already pitch dark but for the subtle lighting in the ghostly mansion of Martin McGrady. The red wine flowed, the canapés — served out of carved pumpkins — were plentiful, and the range of costumes set the mood of the party, complemented by a soundtrack replete with monastic choirs, creepy synths and gothic rock.
Nobody noticed it for a while, until there was a horrified scream from one of the guests, followed by a series of gasps and exclamations. Silently dangling outside the tall arched window at the end of the room was a budget horror movie corpse, hanging by a rope. It was a sophisticated prop and now everyone’s attention was upon the grisly apparition. The music stopped. The conversation stopped. Someone loudly congratulated Martin McGrady on the scariest Halloween party he’d ever been to. But Martin looked bewildered. Squeezing past the other guests, Elise made her way to the window for a closer look. Someone had been a little over enthusiastic with the fake blood on the corpse; it was still dripping from deep knife wounds in the chest. The effect was startling; how had they done it? Elise gazed at the ghastly figure. It appeared so lifelike and bore a disturbing resemblance to Mia McGrady, Martin’s wife, as it swung gently to and fro in the moonlit mist. A sudden feeling of unease crept over Elise. She grabbed Adam’s arm and pulled him to the front door, around the side of the house and across the patio to the arched window. As they approached the body, the tiara on the head of the hanging corpse slipped to one side and caught in the long dark hair hanging over its face.
‘Adam,’ Elise said in a low voice, ‘this isn’t a trick; it’s real.’
Adam looked down at the slowly pooling blood on the stone steps.
‘We should call the police,’ he said quietly.
Through the swathes of black material of his costume, Adam felt in his pocket for his cell phone. His hand closed on something else. As he turned away from Elise and the corpse, he pulled out a smaller, much cruder phone with a square screen and number pad. The only person who owned such a phone was his grandmother. There was a message on the screen: Do what I tell you or Elise is next. I’m watching you Adam. Adam frowned. He glanced back at Elise who was still staring at the body. Inside, the party had descended into chaos and a number of guests had joined them outside to survey