Книга только для ознакомления
. But in checking through the insurance files, our agent discovered that the doctor was administering a drag at frequent intervals. Except the drug wasn't a stress drug. Hormone shots. Female hormones. They have to inject the hormones several months in advance of the surgery. Swells the breasts, among other changes. Prepares the body and the mind, you see."
Xris didn't want to see. He wished Wiedermann would shut up. The cyborg edged his way toward the door.
Wiedermann trailed along behind. "Once we'd gone that far, the rest was easy. Then we ran into the death certificate. A nice touch. Almost stopped us cold." It stopped Xris. He turned, stared.
"It was in the hospital computer," Wiedermann explained. "Dalin Rowan died on the operating table. Date, time. We nearly lost him there, but I figured out what he must have done. Dalin Rowan died the day Darlene Mohini was born. I knew what to look for and, sure enough, I found it--a woman checking out of that hospital who had never checked in. I included a copy of the death certificate for you. It's in the file. Thought you might be amused."
A death certificate. Rowan had written his own death certificate. Well, maybe that made things easier.
Xris reached the outer office, negotiated his way around the boxes of ancient, forgotten records of ancient, forgotten cases. He and Wiedermann shook hands. Wiedermann's grip was cold and damp, fishlike
|
