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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/587354-Chapter-19
Rated: 13+ · Book · Thriller/Suspense · #1430797
An action-packed thriller in the vein of Dan Brown...
#587354 added May 26, 2008 at 8:05pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 19
Chapter 19


Clinton watched the couple from the north side of South Wharf Road. They passed under Saint Mary's arch and made a B-line for the hospital's main entrance.
         It was clear where they were heading; and while they strode up to a glass smoking area in front of the hospital and placed their bags on the ground, Clinton set his own plan into motion.
         He had no intention of using the main entrance. He knew another way; he had discovered an employee stairwell in the rear of the building back when his mother was ill. Staffers never hesitated to let him use it to go out for a smoke. They enjoyed his company. They loved how he kept them thinking.
         Things were different now. Not only did he no longer smoke, but he had no business being there. He had to be sneaky. He would get to the third floor and warn whomever was in room 326 before the couple even got to the elevator.
         He ran across the street and down the sidewalk behind the historic hospital. He had learned so much about Saint Mary's while consoling his mother: C.R. Alder Wright first synthesized heroin there in 1874. Alexander Fleming went to school there in 1906. He was elected Professor of Bacteriology in 1928, and accidentally discovered penicillin while investigating the properties of staphylococci during that same year. Arguably however, the most fascinating discovery was that Elvis Costello, Kiefer Sutherland, Prince Harry and Prince William were all born there. That's what most interested his mother. She couldn't have cared less about science or chemistry.
         Clinton ran to the door.
         Employees were smoking at the picnic table not twenty feet from the building.
         The door was propped open with an empty Coke can. Clinton quietly entered the building. Once inside he made strides up the staircase, two, sometimes three at a time.
         Standing a moment, facing a large steel door with a big black 3 painted on it, Clinton took in a deep breath and counted back from--
         Five. His heart pounded.
         Four. His skin broke out in gooseflesh.
         Three. His breathing made his head spin.
         Two. His hand gripped the doorknob.
         One. He opened the door.

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