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James Campbell

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When Dr Alastair Cameron-Strange meets Alan Bletchley during a hectic shift in the emergency department, he believes he has discovered a violent terrorist threat hidden within an obscure cryptic crossword. Facing ridicule from his peers, Cameron-Strange takes matters into his own hands and embarks on a personal mission which leads him to the far north-west of Scotland and the edge of insanity. It is now a race against time, to tease out the cryptic clues and cut the puzzle short. Everything must click into place.
Dit boek is momenteel niet beschikbaar
263 afgedrukte pagina’s
Oorspronkelijke uitgave
2015
Jaar van uitgave
2015
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Citaten

  • Ирина Осипенкоciteerde uit4 jaar geleden
    And all the while the information was available, if only I had known who to ask.
  • Ирина Осипенкоciteerde uit4 jaar geleden
    He sat down again and gave me a mischievous smile. ‘You see. You can always get it down to the last two.’

    I had to laugh. I suppose in my own undergraduate and postgraduate career I must have trawled my way through tens of thousands of five-stemmed posers. I always thought of MCQ exams as surreal experiences. For a couple of hours you inhabited a world of falsehood. Your mission was to discover the truth by discarding the lie. But the lies outnumbered the truth by four to one. Hence you were in a world of treachery and deceit. It was like being in the hall of mirrors at a fun fair. It was a vertiginous world of altered perspective. After a while your sense of judgment and balance became clouded. Occasionally a question would be thrown in that turned the game on its head. Four truths and one lie. Double negatives. A nightmare for the migraineur. You would forget the nature of your mission. Why am I here? What am I trying to find out?

    After I left Med School and embarked on a career I kept thinking a five-stem poser would crop up in reality. But I never found one. Maybe I had an urge for over-simplification. I inhabited a two – or at most a three – dimensional world. Do this. Do that. Do nothing. My world was the world of the Monty Hall problem. Stick with your decision or change your mind. I put it to Stobo that in the real world there was no such thing as – what would you call it? – a ‘quinlemma’.

    ‘A quincunx.’ It was a strange word. Quincunx. It was the number five as it is depicted on a playing card, with four symbols delineating a rectangle, and a fifth placed at the intersection of the diagonals. It was a beautiful word. It sounded to me like a taboo word, a luscious, fulsomely erotic Elizabethan word denoting the female sexual apparatus. I gathered he had attributed it with a special meaning. I put it to him that The Bottom Line was a kind of quincunx. A. Aramoana B. Hoddle St C. Columbine D. Dunblane E… … .? Did he know of any others?
  • Ирина Осипенкоciteerde uit4 jaar geleden
    Somebody had written me a letter. How unusual to see the handwritten name and address on the sealed blue envelope. I opened it with curiosity.

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