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Book Three in the Sam Smith Mystery Series."e;Emergency!"e; "e;Christ! Who shot her?"e; "e;Don't know."e; "e;What a mess."e;"e;Better call Dr Warburton."e; ***Bright lights. A sharp, antiseptic smell. Pain. Nausea. Feel so weak. The cat, who'll feed the cat? "e;Marlowe."e; "e;She's babbling."e; "e;She's lost a lot of blood."e; Blackness. "e;Have we lost her?"e; I don't want to die! ***A jumble of images, my mother, my father, but his face is so vague. "e;Daddy!"e; Nothing.***A man scowling, with a needle. "e;I'm going to put you to sleep. You won't feel a thing. Just count backwards from ten..."e; "e;Ten, nine, eight..."e; ***Nightmares, very vivid, all too real. So confused. So weak. ***Distant voices. Laughter. A nurse, smiling, reassuring. ***Alan, tears in his eyes. "e;Don't cry, Alan, don't cry..."e; ***Aching all over. Can't move my shoulder or arm. Very tired. More nightmares, too black to dwell on; make them go away... ***Sweating. Drowning. I catch my breath, like breathing for the first time. Eyes blink awake. Gasping. Try to rise, but head hurts too much. Fall back on to the pillow. I ache all over, but I'm alive! ***I was alive. But with a snowstorm gripping the city and with an unknown assassin closing in, I faced the most dangerous moment of my life and the very real prospect of feeling the big chill.
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