Riptide Read Online Free PDF

tonight.”
    The assistant brought the tray to an uneasy rest on the glove box. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, standing back and wiping his
     hands on his lab coat.
    Hatch gave the tray a practiced sweep with his eyes. Rows two and three showed good growth, rows one and four were variable,
     and row five was sterile. In an instant he realized the experiment would be a success. Everything was working out as hypothesized;
     in a month he’d have published another impressive paper in the
New England Journal of Medicine,
and everyone would be talking yet again about what a rising star he was in the department.
    The prospect filled him with a huge feeling of emptiness.
    Absently, he swiveled a magnifying lens over to make a gross examination of the colonies. He’d done this so often that he
     could identify the strains just by looking at them, by comparing their surface textures and growth patterns. After a few moments
     he turned toward his desk, pushed aside a computer keyboard, and began jotting notes into his lab notebook.
    The intercom chimed.
    “Bruce?” Hatch murmured as he scribbled.
    Bruce jumped up, sending his notebook clattering to the floor. A minute later he returned. “Visitor,” he said simply.
    Hatch straightened up his large frame. Visitors to the lab were rare. Like most doctors, he kept his lab location and telephone
     number under wraps to all but a select few.
    “Would you mind seeing what he wants?” Hatch asked. “Unless it’s urgent, refer him to my office. Dr. Winslow’s on call today.”
    Bruce went off again and the lab fell back into silence. Hatch’s gaze drifted once again toward the window. The afternoon
     light was streaming in, sending a shower of gold through the test tubes and lab apparatus. With an effort, he forced his concentration
     back to his notes.
    “He’s not a patient,” Bruce said, bustling back into the lab. Says you’ll want to see him.”
    Hatch looked up.
Probably a researcher from the hospital,
he thought. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Show him in.”
    A minute later, footsteps sounded in the outer lab. Malin looked up to see a spare figure gazing at him from the far side
     of the doorframe. The setting sun was striking the man full force, modeling the sunburnt skin drawn tight across a handsome
     face, refracting light deep within a pair of gray eyes.
    “Gerard Neidelman,” the stranger said in a low, gravelly voice.
    Couldn’t spend much time in a lab or the OR with a tan like that,
Hatch thought to himself.
Must be a specialist, getting in a lot of golf time.
“Please come in, Dr. Neidelman,” he said.
    “Captain,” the man replied. “Not Doctor.” He passed through the doorway and straightened up, and Hatch immediately knew it
     wasn’t just an honorary title. Simply by the way he stepped through the door, head bent, hand on the upper frame, it was clear
     the man had spent time at sea. Hatch guessed he was not old—perhaps forty-five—but he had the narrow eyes and roughened skin
     of a sailor. There was something different about him—something almost otherwordly, an air of ascetic intensity—that Hatch
     found intriguing.
    Hatch introduced himself as his visitor stepped forward and offered his hand. The hand was dry and light, the handshake short
     and to the point.
    “Could we speak in private?” the man asked quietly.
    Bruce spoke up again. “What should I do about these colonies, Dr. Hatch? They shouldn’t be left out too long in—”
    “Why don’t you put them back in the refrigerator? They won’t be growing legs for at least a few billion more years.” Hatch
     glanced at his watch, then back into the man’s steady gaze. He made a quick decision. “And then you might as well head home,
     Bruce. I’ll put you down for five. Just don’t tell Professor Alvarez.”
    Bruce flashed a brief smile. “Okay, Dr. Hatch. Thanks.”
    In a moment Bruce and the colonies were gone, and Hatch turned back to his curious visitor, who had