Read Online Out of the Sun by Robert Goddard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Goddard
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Heathrow Airport. He had apparently taken an overdose of insulin. Nine days later, Gerard Mermillod, a French sociologist, fell in front of a Paris Metro train at Pigalle station and was killed. Witnesses described the nature of his fall as 'bizarre'. Then, last Tuesday, Dr. Marvin Kersey was found dead at his apartment in Montreal. Police believe he was poisoned by carbon monoxide fumes emanating from a faulty central-heating system. All three had worked for Globescope as members of their specialist scientific staff until April of this year. Mr. Lazenby attributed their simultaneous departure to 'normal turnaround'. Dr. Kersey had subsequently returned to a lectureship at McGill University, Montreal, from which he had originally been seconded to Globescope, while M. Mermillod had taken up a post at L'lnstitut des Hautes fitudes Scientifiques in Paris. Dr. Yenning held no academic position at the time of his illness.
Staff at Globescope have been instructed to say nothing about their former colleagues. One employee who was prepared to talk off the record said everyone hoped these events really were coincidental. The thought that they might not be, he admitted, 'makes you kind of jumpy'. No plausible motives for suicide have been put forward so far and neither the Paris nor the Montreal police are thought to regard the circumstances of the deaths as suspicious. Dr. Yenning remains in a coma at the National Neurological Hospital in London. His condition is described as 'grave but stable'. At Globescope, meanwhile, the task of predicting the future is beginning to look a whole lot simpler than interpreting the present.
Less than an hour later, Harry was striding along the corridor leading to room E318 at the National Neurological Hospital. The visit seemed unlikely to serve much purpose, but his thoughts were now so restless that physical activity, whether purposeful or not, was essential. The phone call and the letter; David's coma and the deaths of two other men; at least five scientists dismissed from Globescope last spring, of whom two were dead and one nearly so: all, surely, part of a pattern. Iris must have realized that. But she had chosen to keep it from him. She had pretended there was no pattern, that David's illness was a tragic but uncomplicated misfortune. What had she said? "I'm not going to let you invade his life." It had seemed fair enough at the time, but now .. . Everyone was so very eager to let David die, yet so very reluctant to understand what had happened to him. Their unanimity made Harry's blood boil. Where were they when he needed them? If Harry himself had only known he had a son, he would have He pulled up sharply, barely avoiding a collision with a man leaving the room just s he was about to enter it. Approximately Harry's height and weight, with more muscle and less fat, he had a handsome if slightly battered face, large blue eyes and short spiky blond hair. He could have passed for a night-club bouncer but for the dark Savile Row suit and red silk tie. He cocked one eyebrow and ran a glance of fleeting scrutiny over Harry, then brushed past and strode away.
Harry stepped into the room and glanced across at David. There was no change in his blank and peaceful expression, no hint of awareness, however slight. He could not hear, he could not see, he could not respond. He remained dead to the world. But maybe, deep inside, not quite dead to his own father. Harry sat down beside the bed, reached out and laid his hand over David's where it was resting on the blanket. "I'll try, son," he murmured. "I truly will. I'll see your mother tomorrow. And your doctor if possible. It's time I found out exactly '
David's doctor. Of course. The man he had nearly bumped into had the right authoritarian air to be a consultant. And Harry had let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Swearing under his breath, he jumped up and rushed into the corridor. But the fellow was nowhere to be seen. A nurse was bustling
Staff at Globescope have been instructed to say nothing about their former colleagues. One employee who was prepared to talk off the record said everyone hoped these events really were coincidental. The thought that they might not be, he admitted, 'makes you kind of jumpy'. No plausible motives for suicide have been put forward so far and neither the Paris nor the Montreal police are thought to regard the circumstances of the deaths as suspicious. Dr. Yenning remains in a coma at the National Neurological Hospital in London. His condition is described as 'grave but stable'. At Globescope, meanwhile, the task of predicting the future is beginning to look a whole lot simpler than interpreting the present.
Less than an hour later, Harry was striding along the corridor leading to room E318 at the National Neurological Hospital. The visit seemed unlikely to serve much purpose, but his thoughts were now so restless that physical activity, whether purposeful or not, was essential. The phone call and the letter; David's coma and the deaths of two other men; at least five scientists dismissed from Globescope last spring, of whom two were dead and one nearly so: all, surely, part of a pattern. Iris must have realized that. But she had chosen to keep it from him. She had pretended there was no pattern, that David's illness was a tragic but uncomplicated misfortune. What had she said? "I'm not going to let you invade his life." It had seemed fair enough at the time, but now .. . Everyone was so very eager to let David die, yet so very reluctant to understand what had happened to him. Their unanimity made Harry's blood boil. Where were they when he needed them? If Harry himself had only known he had a son, he would have He pulled up sharply, barely avoiding a collision with a man leaving the room just s he was about to enter it. Approximately Harry's height and weight, with more muscle and less fat, he had a handsome if slightly battered face, large blue eyes and short spiky blond hair. He could have passed for a night-club bouncer but for the dark Savile Row suit and red silk tie. He cocked one eyebrow and ran a glance of fleeting scrutiny over Harry, then brushed past and strode away.
Harry stepped into the room and glanced across at David. There was no change in his blank and peaceful expression, no hint of awareness, however slight. He could not hear, he could not see, he could not respond. He remained dead to the world. But maybe, deep inside, not quite dead to his own father. Harry sat down beside the bed, reached out and laid his hand over David's where it was resting on the blanket. "I'll try, son," he murmured. "I truly will. I'll see your mother tomorrow. And your doctor if possible. It's time I found out exactly '
David's doctor. Of course. The man he had nearly bumped into had the right authoritarian air to be a consultant. And Harry had let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Swearing under his breath, he jumped up and rushed into the corridor. But the fellow was nowhere to be seen. A nurse was bustling
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