The Medical Director has shocking news for Jubal Stone . . .

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Excerpt from A Cold Day In Hell:

Medical Center, the American Embassy in Hell

The Medical Center was a medium-sized facility with forty-five beds, which seemed more than a little excessive considering the complement of the American mission here was a little over a thousand. The World Health Organization recommends 5 beds per thousand people, but someone had decided it was better to err on the side of caution with regard to the American mission in Hell. I had the nagging suspicion there was more to this, but I had enough on my plate as it was.

I opted against the indignity of making the director of medical services talk to me in the interrogation room. There would be time for that later if I didn't like his level of cooperation.

Niemann’s office was appropriately spacious, but not ostentatious. There was a large but modest-looking desk, two end chairs, a sofa and what looked like a comfortable leather reclining chair with footrest. Bookshelves flanked the walls on both sides of the room. I could picture the doctor nodding off in his recliner, feet up, with a book on his lap. He must spend a lot of time here. The carpet was worn and gray, proving my assertion. The air was suffused with a pungent antiseptic odor, which perfectly fit the look of the man who occupied this office.

Jonathan Niemann, the director of all things medical on behalf of the American administration in Hell, was a thin, stern-looking man with white and silver hair. His eyes were a cool green and his face was an unaffected mask of professionalism.

He would turn sixty later this year, but he appeared almost a decade older. By the looks of things, serving in Hell wasn’t doing anybody much good, DCM Song being the exception.

Dr. Niemann walked to his desk and sat. He leaned forward and checked the oversized blotter calendar that covered most of the desktop. He then squeezed a glob of antibacterial gel into his hands and rubbed vigorously.

“I hope this isn’t going to take too long, Agent Stone. I’m a very busy man.”

I set the ambassador’s diary down in front of him and opened it to the page with the appropriate reference. He studied the diary entry a moment and then pushed it back at me.

“I don't know what you expect from me,” he said. “I don't know anything about this.” 

“Meeting with Lucifer 'canceled Rx.' The ambassador clearly indicates he had a medical problem,” I said. “Doctor-patient privilege does not apply in this investigation.”

“It’s not like that at all,” Niemann said, rubbing more anti-bacterial gel into his hands. “Under ordinary circumstances, if you asked me to show you his records I’d have you thrown straight out on your ass. However, I’m under orders from the DCM to cooperate and I will. You can look at Warren’s medical file, check my records, anything you want, but there’s nothing to see.”

“Germophobe?”

“We're in Hell. You bet your life I'm afraid of the germs here.”

“Warren. You were on a first-name basis with the ambassador.”

“That's not a secret.”

“It’s interesting, that’s all. It shows a personal connection with the subject,” I said. “The ambassador was your brother-in-law.”

Niemann’s stare was glacial. He knew I was trying to get him off-balance. He was not used to being interrogated, and he didn’t like it. That was fine with me. Angry people often make mistakes.

“Did Warren have any medical issues?”

“Everybody has some kind of medical issue, big or small. We're not perfect organic machines like the Angels,” he said.

“Perfect organic machines. Are they, really?”

“I wouldn't know personally, but from what Dr. Cunningham has said, their bodies will self-repair any injury, illness or exposure to anything that harms them.”

“Let's set that aside. Right now I'm only interested in the state of Ambassador Basehart's health.”

“A little high blood pressure, some stress-related problems that he was taking medication for,” Dr. Niemann said. “He did have diverticulitis almost two years ago but we got that pretty much under control. He passed his regular medical checkups. He hasn’t seen any of our doctors in over a month.”

“I know he was having problems with the deputy chief of mission, doctor,” I said. “You played chess every week, and you had at least one meal together every week. The ambassador even made sure to calendar that. He must have said something about the DCM.”

“I’m very concerned about Warren,” he said. “Don’t you think if there was anything I could tell you that would help him, I’d do it?”

“I’ll accept that, for now. Could he have seen another doctor and kept it off the books?”

“You're way off track with this medical fixation. As I’m sure you know, in addition to being director of medical services, I am Ambassador Basehart’s personal physician,” Niemann said. “I was the only one he trusted with his health.”

I closed the diary. It didn't make sense for the ambassador to make a false entry in his own, private diary. 

What was I missing?

“Fond of playing games, aren’t you?” Niemann asked. 

“This is no game. This could very well be the first step in some kind of domestic coup or foreign attack.”

“Then just ask your damned questions and quit trying to antagonize me," Niemann said.

“I'll use whatever means at my disposal to get answers," I said.

“Well, if you ever take time off from being an asshole, you might wonder if you’re not looking at this thing backwards,” he said.

I smiled thinly. When I am on a job, I never take time out from being an asshole unless it benefits the investigation.

“Listen, hot-shot, you're looking at this the wrong way. It wasn't the ambassador's health that caused the meeting with Lucifer to be canceled,” Niemann said.

I stared at the doctor. He nodded slightly and tapped the diary.

Immanuel, God's angel assassin, had got to Lucifer after all!

“What is his condition?”

Niemann frowned. “I thought you knew. Lucifer is dying.”

Available for pre-order, A Cold Day In Hell will be released in both Kindle eBook and softcover formats on December 14, 2021. In association with Goodreads, readers can enter the free book giveaway from November 8 through December 8, 2021.

Brian G. Walsh is the author of The Last Angel To Fall and A Cold Day In Hell, the first two books in the Jubal Stone Series. He also authored the dark-themed anthology, No Place For Mercy: An Eclectic Anthology and contributed two stories to Redemption: Into the Light, a short story anthology to help fight hunger in Jackson, Michigan.

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