The master of medical suspense takes you to prestigious Boston Heart Institute, where some patients are dying to get well....
After a troubled past, Dr. Brian Holbrook has been given a second chance to prove himself. At state-of-the-art Boston Heart Institute, he's been chosen to join the medical team testing a new miracle drug. The initial results are so promising that Brian pushes to get his father--who suffers from a dangerous heart condition--accepted into the study.
But Brian is beginning to suspect his superiors are hiding something. Why are crucial records disappearing? Why did a patient making startling progress suddenly die? Is the miracle drug a prescription for death? The answers could cost Brian more than his career. For at Boston Heart Institute, knowing too much is the quickest way to the morgue.
From the Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: Miracle Cure|
|Release Date: 01-05-2011|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Miracle Cure|
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THE BOSTON GLOBE
Jungle Drug Holds Promise for Heart Disease
Researchers at Boston-based Newbury
Pharmaceuticals are heralding what they
say may be a major breakthrough in the
treatment of heart disease, now America's
number one killer. . . .
"YOU CAN'T THROW THE SEVEN OF HEARTS, BRIAN. I just picked up the eight of hearts three cards ago."
"I'm betting you've got eights."
"Okay. . . . Bad bet. . . . Gin."
Brian Holbrook watched his father score up gin plus nineteen and sweep the cards together with practiced ease. The hands that had once been thick and strong enough to crush walnuts were spotted from sixty-three years in the sun and bony from almost a decade of infirmity. But they could still handle cards.
Jack Holbrook--Black Jack Holbrook to many for as long as Brian could remember--wasn't a professional gambler. But he dearly loved to bet. He called it wagering, and he would do it on anything from the Super Bowl to whether the next car coming around the corner would be foreign-made or domestic. Two bucks, ten, a hundred--it really didn't matter to Jack. The game was the thing. He was, and always had been, the most fiercely competitive man Brian had ever known.
Careful not to let his father see, Brian glanced at his watch. Three o'clock. They had been playing gin for almost two hours. At a penny a point, they kept a running score until one of them, invariably Jack, reached...