Scratch One
Page 22
Carr got to his feet. Liseau had the scalpel again. Carr grabbed the wrist, and they struggled silently for a moment, both gasping for breath. Liseau was strong, but he had the use of only one hand. Carr was grateful.
They struggled back and forth across the room, and finally Carr tripped. Liseau came down on top of him, the scalpel over Carr’s throat, slowly descending despite his efforts to keep it away. Liseau had his whole weight behind the knife; it came closer, and closer.
With a final monumental effort, Carr heaved up. Liseau rolled off, and they both got to their feet. They were moving slowly now, sluggish with fatigue and loss of blood.
Liseau held the scalpel. Carr picked up a chair and flung it. Liseau sidestepped it neatly—it skittered by and crashed into the window, smashing the glass.
Panting, they looked at each other. Liseau moved in for the kill.
“Hungry?” he said again.
Carr lunged again, and Liseau fell off balance, tottering backward to the window. He struck the glass spread-eagled, and fell through. There was a brief scream.
Carr ran to the window. Liseau lay on the steps of the villa, writhing in pain. Probably his neck had been broken. In a moment, he was still.
It was over.
Anne came into the room, took in the damage at a glance, and was about to speak when a car pulled up in the drive.
“Oh no,” Carr said. He couldn’t take any more, not for a minute. He was finished, exhausted, utterly tired.
Anne went to the window. “Police,” she said.
He collapsed on the bed, unconscious.
Chapter XXV
ROGER CARR SMELLED A strange mixture of starch and perfume. He opened his eyes and stared into a brilliantly colored bunch of yellow daffodils. He blinked, and heard voices. He swung his head around.
“Hello,” Anne said.
Carr looked blankly at her, and let his eyes wander around the room. It was small, cream-colored, and antiseptic. The bed was neatly made, the covers tucked around him. Vascard and Gorman stood at the end.
“Hello,” Vascard said.
“Hi,” Gorman said. “Good to see you back.”
“This place is horrible,” Vascard said. “They won’t let me smoke.”
Anne bent over and kissed him coolly on the cheek. Carr held out his hand to her. She took it quietly.
“How did it all work out?” he said.
“Very well,” Vascard said. “We got them all, except for Liseau. And the shipment will go through.”
“But how? I thought that—”
“Ah, yes. But you remember I told you the wife was crucial. She was. The papers were set up so that, in the event of her husband’s death, she had the power to sign the papers.”
“And she did?”
“Well, she didn’t want to at first, but…”
“Terrible business,” Gorman said.
Anne bent over and kissed Carr again. It seemed as if she was unaware of anyone else in the room.
“Come on,” Vascard said to Gorman. “Let’s leave these two alone.”
“I wanted to talk to Mr. Carr. I have some questions.”
“Not now,” said Vascard firmly, gripping Gorman’s elbow. “I must apologize for my associate,” he said to Anne and Carr. “He is not French; he does not understand these things. Your leg, by the way, will be all right. Nothing broken—missed that bone, whatever it’s called. You can leave tomorrow if you want.” He sniffed the room. “I’d want to, if I were you. Even I feel sick here.” He walked with Gorman toward the door, then looked back. “Good work,” he said.
“Yes,” Gorman agreed. “Excellent. Very good indeed. If there’s anything I can do for you, just—”
“There may be something,” Carr said, “later.”
“Really? What?”
“It concerns visas for aliens.”
“Really? Why, I—”
“Later,” Vascard said, and hustled him through the door.
Carr looked at Anne.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Fine. But I’m supposed to ask you that.”
“Go ahead.”
“How do you feel?”
“Never better.” He reached over to kiss her, shifted his weight, and groaned as he felt his bandaged thigh.
Anne pushed him back. “Lie down, Samson. There’s plenty of time for that.”
He did. There was a long pause.
“Am I going to marry you?” Carr asked finally.
“Am I going to accept?”
“Yes.”
“You take a lot for granted.”
“It’s a trick I learned,” he said, “from a girl I know.”
She kissed him gently.
A Biography of Michael Crichton
Michael Crichton (1942–2008) was a writer and filmmaker, best known as the author of Jurassic Park and the creator of ER. He was born in Chicago, Illinois, and raised in Roslyn, New York, along with his three siblings.
Crichton graduated summa cum laude from Harvard College and received his MD from Harvard Medical School. As an undergraduate, he taught courses in anthropology at Cambridge University. He also taught writing at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
While at Harvard Medical School, Crichton wrote book reviews for the Harvard Crimson and novels under the pseudonyms John Lange and Jeffery Hudson, among them A Case of Need, which won the Edgar Award for Best Mystery in 1969. In contrast to the carefully researched techno-thrillers that ultimately brought him to fame, the Lange and Hudson books are high-octane novels of suspense and action. Written with remarkable speed and gusto, these novels provided Crichton with both the means to study at Harvard Medical School and the freedom to remain anonymous in case his writing career ended before he obtained his medical degree.
The Andromeda Strain (1969), his first bestseller, was published under his own name. The movie rights for The Andromeda Strain were bought in February of his senior year at Harvard Medical School.
Crichton also pursued an early interest in computer modeling, and his multiple-discriminant analysis of Egyptian crania, carried out on an IBM 7090, was published by the Peabody Museum in 1966.
After graduation, Crichton was a postdoctoral fellow at the Salk Institute for Biological Studies, where he researched public policy with Dr. Jacob Bronowski. He continued to write and published three books in 1970: his first nonfiction book, Five Patients, and two more John Lange titles, Grave Descend and Drug of Choice. He also wrote Dealing or The Berkeley-to-Boston Forty-Brick Lost-Bag Blues with his brother Douglas, and it was later published under the pseudonym Michael Douglas.
After deciding to quit medicine and pursue writing full-time, he moved to Los Angeles in 1970, at the age of twenty-eight. In addition to books, he wrote screenplays and pursued directing as well. His directorial feature film Westworld (1973), involving an innovative twist on theme parks, was the first to employ computer-generated special effects.
Crichton continued his technical publications, writing an essay on medical obfuscation published by the New England Journal of Medicine in 1975 and a study of host factors in pituitary chromophobe adenoma published in Metabolism in 1980.
He maintained a lifelong interest in computers and his pioneering use of computer programs for film production earned him an Academy Award for Technical Achievement in 1995. Crichton also won an Emmy, a Peabody, and a Writers Guild of America Award for ER. In 2002, a newly discovered dinosaur of the ankylosaur group was named for him: Crichtonsaurus bohlini.
His groundbreaking, fast-paced narrative combined with meticulous scientific research made him one of the most popular writers in the world. His novels have been translated into thirty-eight languages, and thirteen have been made into films. Known for his techno-thrillers, he has sold more than 200 million books. He also published four nonfiction books, including an illustrated study of artist Jasper Johns, and two screenplays, Twister and Westworld.
Crichton remains the only person to have a n
umber one book, film, and television series in the same year.
He is survived by his wife, Sherri; his daughter, Taylor; and his son, John Michael.
Crichton and his younger brother, Douglas, co-authors of Dealing or The Berkeley-to-Boston Forty-Brick Lost-Bag Blues, which was published under the pseudonym Michael Douglas.
Telegram from Harvard College announcing Crichton’s acceptance, May 4, 1960. (Courtesy of the Office of the General Counsel of Harvard University.)
Lowell House Harvard yearbook photo, 1961. (Courtesy of Harvard Yearbook Publications and Harvard University Archives.)
Crichton as an anthropology major at Harvard College.
“Peabody Papers.” (Reprinted from “A Multiple Discriminant Analysis of Egyptian and African Negro Crania” in Craniometry and Multivirate Analysis, Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Vol. 57, No. 1, 1966, courtesy of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University.)
Harvard Crimson article featuring Crichton, March 1969. (Courtesy of the Harvard Crimson.)
Crichton as a postdoctoral fellow at the Salk Institute, 1969.
A photo of Crichton for his memoir Travels.
Crichton hiking while doing research for his novel Micro.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1967 by John Lange
Cover design by Andrea C. Uva
Cover illustration by Omar F. Olivera and Theresa Burke
978-1-4532-9924-1
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