Robin Cook - Blindsight

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Blindsight: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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From Publishers Weekly
Cook's lack of ability as a stylist generally has been masked by his talent for fashioning a solid medical drama-often ripped from current headlines-that keeps readers turning pages. Unfortuately, that's not the case in his 12th novel (after Vital Signs), which has a plot so ludicrous that the weak characters and silly dialogue are all too obvious. Most offensive in the latter category are the stilted, out-of-kilter exchanges between a pair of Mafia hitmen who run about New York City "whacking" (murdering) people with increasing frequency. Meanwhile, Dr. Laurie Montgomery, a forensic pathologist in the NYC Medical Examiner's office, finds a pattern of unrelated cocaine overdose deaths among career-oriented people never known to have used drugs. Despite the obvious evidence that she's onto something, her boss couldn't care less, while the homicide detective she becomes involved with is more concerned about the mob killings, and, like her boss, cannot understand why she is outraged by the behavior of two corrupt, thieving uniformed cops in her department. As luck would have it, there's also another man in Laurie's life, a self-centered ophthalmologist whose patients just happen to include the mob boss behind both the cocaine deaths and the murder spree. Readers who plow through this amateurish effort will guess the ending long before any of the characters has a clue.
From Kirkus Reviews
An ironically revealing title for ophthalmologist Cook's fuzziest novel in years-an awesomely inept medical/crime thriller about a forensic pathologist up against the mob. As the story opens, the mind of one Duncan Andrews is ``racing like a runaway train,'' his lethargy having ``evaporated like a drip of water falling onto a sizzling skillet.'' Hours and several more clich‚s later, the ``Wall Street whiz kid'' is dead of a cocaine overdose and lying on the autopsy table of generic Cook heroine (young, spunky, pretty doc) Laurie Montgomery, an N.Y.C. medical examiner. Days and several more dead yuppies later, Laurie is convinced that someone is flooding the upscale market with bad cocaine. Of course, no one will listen to her-not her boss, who wants to chill this political hot potato; not silver-tongued, gold- plated ophthalmologist Jordan Scheffield, who's wooing her with limos and swank dinners; not cop Lou Soldano (``a bit like Colombo''), to whom Laurie explains the exact difference between ophthalmologists, optometrists, and opticians and who wants to woo her with his sedan and spaghetti but can't match Jordan's glitz and anyway is busy worrying about the mob-related corpses stacking up next to the yuppies in Laurie's morgue. For meanwhile, in scenes stiff with clich‚, two mobsters are blowing away a seemingly random group of citizens on orders from mob kingpin Paul Cerino, who, Laurie learns, is one of Jordan 's patients-and who deals coke. Laurie sleuths; the mobsters lock her in a coffin; Laurie sobs; the mobsters let her out; Laurie remembers the flammable properties of ethylene, handily within reach, and blows up the mobsters. Finally, Laurie dumps Jordan for Lou, and she and the cop talk about the motives behind the whole ``horrid affair''-which owe more than a little to Coma. A slack and ragged retread, with Cook parodying himself in a tale that's about as stylish and suspenseful as an eye-chart.

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Getting the largest vase she had, Laurie put half of the roses into water, then carried them into the living room. She put the vase on her coffee table. She thought she could get used to having cut flowers in her apartment. The effect was amazing.

Returning to the kitchen, Laurie put the cover on the box and retied the ribbon. If a dozen roses could do so much for her apartment, she could only guess what they would do for her office.

“Oh, my God!” Laurie said when she saw the time. In a panic, she tore off her clothes and jumped into the shower.

It was almost eight-thirty before Laurie arrived at the medical examiner’s office, a good half hour later than usual. Feeling guilty, she went directly to the ID office even though, given the box of roses, she would have preferred to go to her office first.

“Dr. Bingham wants to see you,” Calvin said as soon as he saw Laurie. “But get your butt back here on the double. We got a lot of cases to do.”

Laurie put her briefcase and box of roses down on an empty desk. She was self-conscious about the roses, but if Calvin noticed, he didn’t give any indication. Hurrying back through the reception area, Laurie presented herself to Mrs. Sanford. Given her last time in the chief’s office, Laurie was apprehensive to say the least. She tried to imagine what he wanted this time, but she couldn’t.

“He’s on the phone right this minute,” Mrs. Sanford said. “Would you care to sit down? It should only be a moment.”

Laurie went over to a couch, but before she could sit down, Mrs. Sanford was speaking into her intercom: Dr. Bingham was ready to see her.

Taking a deep breath, Laurie walked into the chief’s office. As she approached his desk, his head was down. He was writing. He made Laurie stand while he finished his note. Then he looked up.

For a moment he studied her with his cold blue eyes. He shook his head and sighed. “After months of flawless work, you seem to have developed a penchant for trouble. Don’t you like your work, Doctor?”

“Of course I like my work, Dr. Bingham,” Laurie said, alarmed.

“Sit down,” Bingham said. He folded his hands and placed them resolutely on his blotter.

Laurie sat down on the very edge of the chair facing Dr. Bingham.

“Then perhaps you do not like working at this particular office,” he said. It was half question, half statement.

“Quite the contrary,” Laurie said. “I love being here. What makes you think I don’t?”

“Only because it is the only way I can explain your behavior.”

Laurie returned his gaze evenly. “I have no idea what behavior you are referring to,” she said.

“I’m referring to your visit yesterday afternoon to the apartment of the deceased, Duncan Andrews, where you apparently gained access by flashing your official credentials. Did you go there or have I been misinformed?”

“I was there,” Laurie said.

“Didn’t Calvin tell you that we have been getting some pressure from the mayor’s office about this case?”

“He said something to that effect,” Laurie said. “But the only aspect of the case he discussed with me with regard to that pressure concerned the official cause of death.”

“Wouldn’t that make you think that this was somehow a sensitive case and that maybe you should be as circumspect as possible in all respects?”

Laurie tried to imagine who would have complained about her visit. And why? Certainly not Sara Wetherbee. While she was thinking she realized Dr. Bingham was waiting for a response. “I didn’t think that visiting the scene would upset anyone,” she said at last.

“It is true you didn’t think,” Dr. Bingham said. “That is painfully obvious. Can you tell me why you went to visit this scene? After all, the body was gone. Hell, you’d already finished the autopsy. And on top of that we have medical investigators to do that type of thing; medical investigators whom we had warned not to meddle in this particular case. So that brings me back to the question: Why did you go?”

Laurie tried to think of an explanation without becoming personal. She did not want to discuss her brother’s overdose with Dr. Bingham, particularly not now.

“I asked you a question, Dr. Montgomery,” Bingham said when Laurie failed to respond.

“I hadn’t found anything on autopsy,” Laurie said finally. “There was no pathology. I suppose I went in desperation to see if the scene might reveal a plausible alternative to the drugs the man had obviously taken.”

“This is in addition to asking Cheryl Myers to look into the man’s medical history.”

“That’s right,” Laurie said.

“Under normal circumstances,” Bingham said, “such initiative might be commendable. But under the present circumstances it has added to the problems of this office. The father, who happens to be very politically connected, found out you were there and screamed bloody murder, as if we’re out to ruin his senatorial campaign. And all this is on top of the Central Park Preppy II case, which has already caused enough trouble with the mayor’s office. We don’t need any more. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Laurie said.

“I hope so,” Bingham said. He looked down at the work on his desk. “That will be all, Dr. Montgomery.”

Laurie walked out of the chief’s office and took a deep breath. This was the closest she had ever come to being fired. Two unpleasant summonses to the chief’s office in three days. Laurie couldn’t help but think that one more time in front of Bingham and she would be out.

“You and the chief square things away?” Calvin asked when Laurie reappeared.

“I hope so,” Laurie said.

“Me too,” Calvin said. “Because I need you in top form.” He handed her a pack of folders. “You’ve got four cases today. Two more overdoses like the Duncan Andrews case and two more floaters. Fresh floaters, I might add. I figured since you did the same kind of cases yesterday, you’d be the fastest today. There’s a lot of work for everyone. I had to give several people five cases, so consider yourself lucky.”

Laurie flipped through the folders to make sure that they were complete. Then she took them, her briefcase, and her box of roses up to her office. Before she did anything else, she went to the lab and borrowed the largest flask she could find. Taking the roses from the box, she arranged them and filled the flask with water. After putting the flowers on the lab bench, she stepped back. She had to smile; they were so glaringly out of place.

Sitting down at her desk, Laurie started with the first folder. She didn’t get far. The moment she opened it there was a knock on her door. “Come in,” she said.

The door opened slowly and Lou Soldano poked his face in. “Hope I’m not bothering you too much,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me.”

He looked as though he’d never gone to bed the previous night. He was wearing the same baggy, unpressed suit and he still hadn’t managed to shave.

“You’re not bothering me,” Laurie said. “Come in!”

“So how are you today?” he asked once he’d come in and sat down. He put his hat in his lap.

“Except for a little run-in with the boss, I guess I’m fine.”

“Wasn’t about my being here yesterday, was it?” Lou asked.

“No,” Laurie said. “Something I did yesterday afternoon which I suppose I shouldn’t have. But it’s always easy to say that after the fact.”

“I hope you don’t mind my coming back today, but I understand you have a couple more cases like poor Frankie’s. They were found almost in the same spot by the same night security guard. So I was back out at the South Street Sea Port at five in the morning. Wow!” he said, suddenly spotting Laurie’s flask. “Fancy flowers. They weren’t here yesterday.”

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