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Robin Cook: Blindsight

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Robin Cook Blindsight

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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Lou knew that he was operating on a hunch that depended on his theory about the gangland slayings being correct. But at the moment it was all he had, and his intuition told him that time was of the utmost importance.

An overhead light came on above Lou’s head. Then he had the feeling that someone was looking at him through the peephole. Finally the door opened. Gloria was standing there dressed in one of her plain housedresses.

“Lou!” Gloria said pleasantly. “What brings you here?”

Lou shoved past her and into the house. “Where’s Paul?” he demanded. He looked into the living room, where Gregory and Steven were watching TV.

“What’s the matter?” Gloria asked.

“I have to talk with Paul. Where is he?”

“He’s not here,” Gloria said. “Is there something wrong?”

“Something’s very wrong,” Lou said. “Do you know where Paul is?”

“I’m not positive,” Gloria said. “But I heard him on the phone with Dr. Travino. I think he said something about going down to the company.”

“You mean at the pier?” Lou asked.

Gloria nodded. “Is he in danger?” Gloria asked. Lou’s distress was infectious.

Lou was already half out the door. Calling over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll take care of it.”

Back in his car, Lou started the engine and made a sweeping U-turn in the middle of the street. As he accelerated he caught sight of Gloria standing on her stoop, anxiously clutching her hands to her chest.

Laurie’s first sensation was nausea, but she didn’t vomit, although she retched. She woke up in stages, becoming progressively aware of movement and uncomfortable bumps and jostling. She also became aware of dizziness, as if she were spinning, and a terrible sense of air hunger, as if she were smothering.

Laurie tried to open her eyes, only to realize with a terrible shock that they were already open. Wherever she was, it was pitch black.

When she was more awake, Laurie tried to move, but when she did, her legs and arms immediately hit up against a wooden surface. Exploring with her hands, she quickly determined that she was in a box! A wave of frightful claustrophobia passed through her like a cold wind as she realized she’d been sealed into a Potter’s Field coffin! At the same time the memory of what happened at the medical examiner’s office flooded back with searing clarity: the chase; those two horrible men; the dead guard, the poor janitor murdered in cold blood. And then another horrid thought occurred to her: what if they were planning to bury her alive!

Gripped with terror, Laurie tried to draw up her knees, straining against the top of the coffin. Then she tried to kick, but it was all to no avail. Either something extremely heavy was on the lid or it had been nailed firmly down.

“Ahhhh,” Laurie cried as the coffin jarred severely. It was then that she realized she was in some sort of vehicle.

Laurie tried screaming but only succeeded in hurting her own ears. Next she tried pounding the underside of the lid with her fists, but it was difficult in the confined space.

Abruptly the jarring stopped. The vibration of the engine also stopped. Then there was the distant sound as if the doors of the vehicle had opened. Laurie felt the coffin move.

“Help!” Laurie cried. “I can’t breathe!”

She heard voices, but they weren’t speaking with her. In a wave of desperate panic, Laurie again tried to pound the underside of the lid as tears came. She couldn’t help herself. She’d never been so terrified in her life.

Laurie knew she was being carried for a time. She hated to think where they were taking her. Would they really bury her? Would she hear the dirt raining down on the lid?

With a final thump the coffin was put down. It hadn’t hit ground. It sounded like wood.

Laurie gasped for air between sobs as a cold sweat appeared on her forehead.

Lou wasn’t exactly sure where the American Fresh Fruit Company was, but he knew it was in the Green Point pier area. He’d been there once years before and was hoping it would come back to him.

When he got to the waterfront district, he took his emergency light down and turned it off. He continued on Greenpoint Avenue until he could go no further, then turned north on West Street, the whole time scanning the abandoned warehouses for some sign of life.

He was beginning to feel discouraged and progressively desperate until he saw a road marked Java Street. The name rang a bell. Lou turned left onto it, heading ever closer to the river. A block down stood a high chain-link fence. Over the open gate was a sign bearing the name of Cerino’s company. Several cars were parked on the inside of the gate. Lou recognized one as Cerino’s Lincoln Continental. Beyond the cars was a huge warehouse that extended out over the pier. Above and behind the warehouse Lou could see the very top of the superstructure of a ship.

Lou drove through the gate and parked next to Cerino’s car. A wide overhead door to the warehouse was open. Lou could just make out the rear of a van parked in the darkness within. He shut off his engine and got out. All he could hear was the distant screech of some sea gulls.

Lou checked his gun but left it in his holster. He tiptoed over to the open door and peered in for a better look at the van. When he saw HEALTH AND HOSPITAL CORP. on its side, he was encouraged. Glancing around in the darkness of the warehouse, Lou saw nothing but the vague outlines of stacks of bananas. No one was in sight, but toward the end of the pier, in the direction of the river, perhaps a hundred yards away, he could see a glow of light.

Lou debated calling for backup. Proper police procedure required such a move, but he feared there wasn’t time. He had to be certain Laurie wasn’t in immediate danger.

Once he did that, he could take the time to call for help.

Avoiding the central corridor through the bananas, Lou worked his way laterally until he found another corridor that led out the pier. Groping ahead, he moved in the general direction of the light.

It took him about five minutes to get abreast of the light. Carefully he again moved laterally until he could see that the light was coming from a windowed office. Inside were people. Lou recognized Cerino immediately.

Inching even closer, Lou got a better view of the interior. Most important, he saw Laurie. She was sitting in a straight-back chair. Lou could even see that her forehead gleamed with perspiration.

Sensing that Laurie was all right momentarily, Lou began to carefully retrace his steps. Now he wanted to use his radio in his car to call in some backup. With as many people as there were in the office, he wasn’t about to play hero and go barging in.

Back at his car, Lou climbed in and picked up his police radio. He was about to speak when he felt the press of cold metal against the back of his neck.

“Get out of the car,” a voice commanded.

Lou turned slowly and looked up into Angelo’s gaunt face.

“Out of the car.”

Lou carefully replaced the microphone and got out onto the asphalt.

“Face the car,” Angelo ordered.

Angelo quickly frisked Lou, removing his gun when he found it.

“OK,” Angelo said. “Let’s go down to the office. Maybe you’d like to go on a little cruise, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Laurie said. She was trembling. The coffin she’d been in was off to the side. She was terrified that they were going to force her back into it.

“Please, Doctor,” Travino said. “I’m a doctor myself. We speak the same language. All we want to know is how you figured it out. How did you guess that these cases were not the garden-variety overdoses you people see day in, day out?”

“You must be thinking of someone else,” Laurie said. She tried to think, but it was difficult with her terror. Yet she had the idea that the reason she was still alive was because they were desperate to know how she’d solved the case. Consequently she didn’t want to tell them anything.

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