Omega Dog by Tim Stevens Read Free Book Online Page A

the kitchenette. It was a comfortable enough apartment, if a little too old-fashioned in its décor for Beth’s tastes. But she’d gotten a great deal on the rental, and until she made chief resident and eventually attending, and could afford to buy her own property in Manhattan, it was as good as she was likely to find. At least, as long as she was living on her own. And that situation didn’t look likely to change in the near future.
    The phone rang twice. Three times. Four.
    The Prof had several phones in his house, Beth knew, so the reason he was taking so long to answer was either that he was in the bathroom, or that he was fast asleep, against expectations.
    Or, that he wasn’t home at all.
    He didn’t use an answering machine so there was no way Beth could leave a message. She was about to hang up and try his cell phone on the off chance that he was carrying it, when abruptly the ringing stopped as the receiver was lifted.
    There was silence on the line.
    But Beth could sense the presence at the other end.
    ‘Hello?’ she said, her voice an unexpected croak. She cleared her throat discreetly and went on: ‘Prof?’
    Silence. But was that the deep, muffled sound of a breath being taken?
    ‘Prof, is that you?’
    The voice that came back down the line startled her, sounding as close as though its owner was standing at her side.
    ‘Who is this?’
    It was a man’s voice. The Prof’s? He sounded odd, like he had a cold. His tone was lower, rougher than normal.
    ‘Prof, it’s Beth. Beth Colby. Are you okay?’
    ‘Fine, Beth,’ said the voice. ‘What can I do for you?’
    He still didn’t sound the same. Maybe she’d woken him after all, and he was grouchy? But that wasn’t like Prof Lomax at all. He was a teddy bear of a man.
    She said, trying to keep the sudden unease she felt out of her voice, ‘Sorry to trouble you. I just wanted to ask if we could postpone our meeting tomorrow. The data analysis? It’s just that a friend of mine has died unexpectedly, and I need to meet with her family in the morning.’
    Another silence. This time she knew something was definitely wrong. By now, the Prof she knew would have interrupted with a flurry of sympathetic noises and a reassurance that yes, of course they must postpone their meeting, that this was a far more pressing issue.
    Whoever Beth was speaking to, it wasn’t Professor Leonard Lomax.
    She opened her mouth to speak again – she wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but anything was better than this awful, creepy silence – when she heard a click.
    The line went dead.
    Beth replaced the receiver, cold tendrils of dread creeping through her.

Chapter 11
    ––––––––
    M arcus Royle did two complete circuits of the block before he decided on his method of access to his target.
    The target’s apartment was on the fourth floor of a block on West 64 th Street. Royle’s reconnaissance told him there was a doorman behind a desk in the lobby. That wasn’t a problem. In Royle’s experience, doormen made access to an apartment easier, not harder. The occupant was more likely to trust an unknown visitor whom the doorman was satisfied looked respectable.
    Which Royle knew he did.
    Royle thought again about the information Rosetti had given him about the new target. Her name was Elizabeth Colby. She was twenty-nine years old, a doctor – not a very senior one yet, Royle guessed, considering her age – and single. Unmarried. That didn’t mean anything. He’d seen her picture, and she was very pretty. Chances were, she had a man in the apartment with her. Royle had to assume that was the case. Again, it didn’t pose a problem. It just meant Rosetti would get an extra corpse for her money.
    Over dinner in the Vietnamese restaurant, Royle used his smartphone to search for Dr Elizabeth Colby online. He found her immediately, and the hospital she worked at, and the department. A telephone call to the ER of the hospital established that she