Novels by Lopezwritez

Dr. Henry Moore walked down the center of the ballroom, and the guests stepped back to let him pass. Elena walked at his side with a thick white folder under her arm, and the Channel Six camera swung around to follow them.Agatha rose so fast her walking stick clattered to the floor. "Dr. Moore! What an honor! We had no idea you were well enough to...""I came on business, Mrs. Whitmore." He stopped in front of the head table. "Two days ago, my hospital moved its supply contract to Kane Pharmaceuticals. Yesterday, my granddaughter tested their herbs.""They're fake," Elena said, loud and clear. "Rice powder, dyed tree bark and cheap fillers. Kane Pharmaceuticals has been selling useless medicine to sick people."The whole room went silent."So tonight," Dr. Moore continued, "I'd like to sign an exclusive five-year supply contract with Whitmore Pharmaceuticals, worth two billion dollars."Somebody dropped a glass, and it shattered on the marble.Agatha's mouth opened and closed without

The Grand Imperial Hotel glowed at the top of Harbor Avenue like a palace made of light. Black cars lined the driveway, cameras flashed along the red carpet, and the richest families in Eastbay stepped out in silk and diamonds.Inside, the main ballroom held three hundred guests. A band played under gold flowers, and a news crew from Eastbay Channel Six stood by the wall with their camera already rolling. Lucas Grant had paid for every bit of it.At the head table sat Grandmother Agatha with a leather folder in front of her. It held the divorce papers, open to the last page.Damon walked up the red carpet in his old grey work clothes, and the photographers lowered their cameras, because nobody wanted a picture of him.The two guards at the door stepped together and blocked his way. "Kitchen staff use the back entrance.""I'm a guest.""Sure you are, and I'm the President." One of them shoved his shoulder. "Get lost before we drag you."The second guard laughed. "Look at his shoes, man

When Damon walked through the gate of the Whitmore villa, his clothes were lying in the garden.There wasn't much: two grey work shirts, one pair of trousers, a thin blanket and a toothbrush. Someone had thrown them across the wet grass and stamped on them, leaving muddy shoe prints all over the blanket.Margaret stood on the front steps under the porch light with her arms folded. Derek leaned in the doorway beside her, his right wrist wrapped in a fresh white cast and his eyes full of poison."Pick them up," Margaret said. "That's everything you're taking with you."Damon set down his herb parcels and began to gather his things, one by one, without hurrying at all."Lucas Grant's lawyer called this afternoon," she went on, her voice sweet and sharp at once. "Tomorrow night there's an engagement banquet at the Grand Imperial Hotel for Lucas and Vivian, and the whole city is invited. You'll sign the divorce papers there, in front of everyone, and then you'll disappear.""Why at the ban

"Red Root, Tiger Bone Vine and a handful of Cold Moss," Damon said, laying the black card on the wooden counter. "The oldest you have."The herbalist on Old Herb Street was a thin man with a wispy beard and a sour face. He looked at Damon's torn clothes, then at the card, and snorted."Those roots aren't for beggars, friend. Do you know what Tiger Bone Vine costs?""Run the card."The man rolled his eyes and swiped it, then stared at the screen, swiped it again and stared harder. His face changed color twice. Without another word, he hurried into the back room and returned with three paper parcels wrapped in red string."The best I have, sir," he said, bowing a little. "Fifty years old, every root.""Thank you. Do you have any Blood Ginseng? Five hundred years or older?"The herbalist laughed nervously. "Sir, there's only one root that old in all of Eastbay, and it sits in the Grant family vault. Old Mr. Grant shows it off at parties like a gold watch.""Does he now?" Damon picked up

Damon didn't look at the window. He picked up his chopsticks, slurped loudly from an empty bowl and then slammed it down on the counter."I can't pay," he said in a loud, slurred voice. "Put it on my tab, old man."Gus understood at once. His face turned red, and he came around the counter shouting. "Tab? You've never paid a tab in your life! Get out of my shop, you drunk beggar!"He grabbed Damon by the collar and shoved him out the door into the street. Damon stumbled and fell against a fish stall, and the dockworkers laughed. Across the road, behind the green door of the tea shop, a man in a grey cap lowered his newspaper, shook his head and went back to reading.Ten minutes later, Damon slipped through the back alley and knocked twice on the kitchen door.Gus pulled him inside and locked it. "You still think fast, Commander.""So do you."The back room was tiny and full of flour sacks. Gus dragged one heavy sack out of the corner, cut it open with a kitchen knife and pulled a smal

"Charge the paddles!" the grey-haired doctor shouted. "Clear!"The old man's body jumped on the marble floor, and the green line stayed flat."Again! Clear!"Nothing changed. The line didn't even flicker.Damon twisted out of the guards' grip so fast that they were left holding nothing. Three steps later he was on his knees beside Dr. Henry Moore, and the silver needles were already out of the paper bag."Don't touch him!" Elena grabbed his shoulder with both hands. "I swear I'll have you arrested!""Arrest me when he's breathing."He didn't look at her. His right hand moved, and the first needle slid in just below the old man's collarbone. The second went into the center of his chest, and the third and fourth on either side of his throat; the fifth and sixth went into the insides of his wrists, and the seventh into the very top of his head.Each needle went in with a tiny twist, and each one shivered when it stopped."What is he doing?" a young nurse whispered."Killing him faster,"