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The Doomsday Conspiracy :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 199 из 213I’ll meet you at the American Hospital in half an hour.”
“I’ll be there. Go right to the Emergency Room.”
“Doctor – don’t mention this call to anyone.”
“You have my word.” The line went dead.
Dr Hilsinger dialled a number. “I just heard from Commander Bellamy. I’m meeting him at the American Hospital in half an hour …”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Dr Hilsinger replaced the receiver. He heard the reception door open and looked up. Robert Bellamy was standing there with a gun in his hand.
“On second thoughts,” Robert said, “it might be better if you treated me here.”
The doctor tried to conceal his surprise. “You … you should be in a hospital.”
“Too close to the morgue. Patch me up and make it fast.” It was difficult to talk.
Dr Hilsinger started to protest, then thought better of it. “Yes. Whatever you say. I’d better give you an anaesthetic. It will …”
“Don’t even think about it,” Robert said. “No tricks.” He was holding the gun in his left hand. “If I don’t get out of here alive, neither do you. Any questions?” He felt faint.
Dr Hilsinger swallowed. “No.”
“Then get to work.”
Dr Hilsinger led Robert into the next room, an examining room filled with medical equipment. Slowly and carefully, Robert slipped out of his jacket. Holding the gun in his hand, he sat down on the table. Dr Hilsinger had a scalpel in his hand. Robert’s fingers tightened on the trigger.
“Relax,” Dr Hilsinger said nervously. “I’m just going to cut your shirt.”
The wound was raw and red, and seeping blood. “The bullet is still in there,” Dr Hilsinger said. “You won’t be able to stand the pain unless I give you …”
“No!” He was not going to let himself be drugged. “Just take it out.”
“Whatever you say.”
Robert watched the doctor walk over to a sterilizing unit and put in a pair of forceps. Robert sat on the edge of the table, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to engulf him. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Dr Hilsinger was standing in front of him, the forceps in his hand.
“Here we go.” He pushed the forceps into the raw wound and Robert screamed aloud with the pain. Bright lights flashed in front of his eyes. He started to lose consciousness.
“It’s out,” Dr Hilsinger said.
Robert sat there for a moment, trembling, taking deep breaths, fighting to regain control of himself.
Dr Hilsinger was watching him closely.
“I’ll be there. Go right to the Emergency Room.”
“Doctor – don’t mention this call to anyone.”
“You have my word.” The line went dead.
Dr Hilsinger dialled a number. “I just heard from Commander Bellamy. I’m meeting him at the American Hospital in half an hour …”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Dr Hilsinger replaced the receiver. He heard the reception door open and looked up. Robert Bellamy was standing there with a gun in his hand.
“On second thoughts,” Robert said, “it might be better if you treated me here.”
The doctor tried to conceal his surprise. “You … you should be in a hospital.”
“Too close to the morgue. Patch me up and make it fast.” It was difficult to talk.
Dr Hilsinger started to protest, then thought better of it. “Yes. Whatever you say. I’d better give you an anaesthetic. It will …”
“Don’t even think about it,” Robert said. “No tricks.” He was holding the gun in his left hand. “If I don’t get out of here alive, neither do you. Any questions?” He felt faint.
Dr Hilsinger swallowed. “No.”
“Then get to work.”
Dr Hilsinger led Robert into the next room, an examining room filled with medical equipment. Slowly and carefully, Robert slipped out of his jacket. Holding the gun in his hand, he sat down on the table. Dr Hilsinger had a scalpel in his hand. Robert’s fingers tightened on the trigger.
“Relax,” Dr Hilsinger said nervously. “I’m just going to cut your shirt.”
The wound was raw and red, and seeping blood. “The bullet is still in there,” Dr Hilsinger said. “You won’t be able to stand the pain unless I give you …”
“No!” He was not going to let himself be drugged. “Just take it out.”
“Whatever you say.”
Robert watched the doctor walk over to a sterilizing unit and put in a pair of forceps. Robert sat on the edge of the table, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to engulf him. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Dr Hilsinger was standing in front of him, the forceps in his hand.
“Here we go.” He pushed the forceps into the raw wound and Robert screamed aloud with the pain. Bright lights flashed in front of his eyes. He started to lose consciousness.
“It’s out,” Dr Hilsinger said.
Robert sat there for a moment, trembling, taking deep breaths, fighting to regain control of himself.
Dr Hilsinger was watching him closely.