Respublic Amerike: A Detective Mystery Thriller

By Max Connelly

After a devastating personal defeat, Omar Yakoub quits his job as anesthesiologist. From the comfort of his seaside apartment in Boston, the Egyptian earns a living solving crimes, as well as by occasionally tutoring desperate medical students.

Lela Kraft, Harvard Medical’s top dog for two years, seeks Omar’s help after she’s toppled off the lead by one of his students. Occupied by a new case, he’ll only make time for her if she runs errands for him. Eager to slow down her competition, but mostly enchanted by the teasingly-cool Egyptian, Lela agrees.

Omar’s client is a British baron who fell victim to a time travel scam, and lost a fortune. Employing first-rate deduction, Omar exposes the ingenious intricacies and hunts down the fraudsters: going after a Maharaja across India, then fighting against Vor V Zakone, the notorious Russian Mafia. Battle after battle, the plot thickens. Deep within the most influential of US institutions, Omar discerns the enigmatic man behind it all.

To keep him at bay, the all-powerful nemesis frames Omar as a terrorist, hurling law enforcement after him in a relentless pursuit.

Omar, distraught by the exacting chase, struggles against his second personal defeat. Lela, all along loving and supportive of the Egyptian, must dissuade him from escaping America, and wrestle him back to the case and into her arms.

But it’s the toughest of calls.

For even for a man with Omar’s daring and mind-bending schemes, it’ll be a long shot defeating an adversary with such infinite capabilities. Omar, an immigrant rejected from society, will have to take hell, just to prove that he really belongs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Max Connelly
• Release date: Nov 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310528798

Max Connelly

Mixing intricate plot with intrigue, Max Connelly writes mind-challenging fiction. His thriller prose and lively characters carry it out.His first novel, "Spy Hunt in Dixie," a Civil War historical, is one of the most elaborate mysteries, as well as a fresh take on detective journalism. Employing multi-narrative style, atypical characters, and dense text, Connelly delivers cerebral gratification to mystery plot addicts.His second novel, "Respublic Amerike," follows the amorous Egyptian detective based in Boston. Omar, the Egyptian, embarks on solving a series of seemingly unrelated mysteries; but surprisingly all leads end at one enigmatic man: one with excessive power, gadgetry, and outreach--and above all ingenuity.

Book preview

Respublic Amerike

By Max Connelly

Copyright 2013 Max Connelly

Smashwords Edition

ALSO BY MAX CONNELLY

THE SPY HUNT SERIES

SPY HUNT IN DIXIE

(Novel)

SPY HUNT IN D.C.

(Short Story, sequel to the novel)

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed, or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Follow Max Connelly

Blog

Twitter

Facebook

For my wife,

who took care of everything,

while I dreamed away

Part I

QUANTUM LAPSE

*1*

A reigning champion keeps her throne by sustaining superiority, both physically and psychologically.

It’s a given that exertion and dedication are necessary to keep her at the number one spot, but equally important is firmly believing in her own invincibility. If the belief, of her impregnability, is extended to her competitors as well, then she is sure to keep her throne for a long time.

Lela Kraft believed in that.

After all, that is what her father had taught her…and it had proven right so far. Since her first year in elementary school, and throughout her entire education, the top spot of the class was always reserved for her. The charming blonde earned her place with exhausting study, patience, punctuality, and, of course, by emphasizing the vast distance between her and the rest of her class.

For two years at Harvard Medical School, she had fared, as ever, with exceeding perfection. The prospect of her finishing medical school at the top was as definite as any natural phenomenon—just a couple of years away. But, out of the blue, an incident starring Daina Stravinsky, a voluptuous Lithuanian student, blemished Lela’s shining record and proved a grave threat to her dominant position.

Earlier, the frivolous foreigner never seemed to risk Lela’s supremacy. If anything, Lela had always seen her as a recluse who was going to carve her way into medicine by whoring—the Baltic girl employed her attributes readily with male colleagues and much more often with vulnerable college staff.

However, this time around, Daina’s talents weren’t morphological—rather of mental aptness…psychic and extra-ordinary.

For two weeks, Lela revised the anatomy syllabus of Oto-rhino-laryngology (ear, nose, and throat) thoroughly, and was by the end of the revision confident of mastering the where and what of every structure, its embryology and its applied anatomy. In her mind, she could reconstruct the entire anatomy of that region from scratch. On the challenge test given by Professor Stifles, the anatomy professor, she was sure to seize the spotlight and shine over the rest of the class—her usual feat throughout.

On the awaited day, Lela held on for the anatomy class. Impatiently, she waited for her turn, her eyes glued to two opposing podiums, behind which two students hurled devastating academic questions at one another. When her time finally arrived, half an hour later and three students out, Lela, sucking on a sweet lozenge, jumped on stage, assuming her place over scared colleagues. She crushed and chewed her lozenge, a prelude for her future feats.

The first four students were demolished after two or three questions at most. Even the studious Greek, Mark Giannakos, couldn’t manage her anatomical relationship questions. But Lela wasn’t satisfied. The competition was humdrum; chewing cough drops gave her more fun than the challenge at hand. She wished facing a worthy challenger—only a tough rivalry could display her full potential.

Professor Stifles eyed Lela, asking her to have mercy with the lowly competitors. Only three students were left and still he had more than an hour at hand.

In a sleeveless top, short enough to reveal a pierced belly button, and a henna dragon tattoo on the left arm, Daina Stravinsky strode ahead like a model on a catwalk. On her way to her podium, she intentionally went through behind Lela, brushing her shoulder provocatively. Out of her full purple lips, Daina blew her gum into a big bubble, bursting it in Lela’s direction.

You’re dead today, babe, sneered the Lithuanian nymph.

The girl was challenging her!

Didn’t someone tell that fool that Lela Kraft is an icon, known—out of respect for her scholarly prowess—as the LELA?

Let’s get on with it, girls. Daina, spit out your gum… and Lela, please don’t jump over protocol, directed Professor Stifles. Start asking the origin-insertion questions then relationship then injury and then applied anatomy. Slow down. He pointed at his watch and nodded at the thin crowd left behind him. We’ve got a full hour on our hands, so make good use of it.

Daina didn’t heed Professor Stiles’ instructions, nor did Lela. The Lithuanian’s impertinence irritated her senses and scratched her pride; she needed to ground the insurgency immediately and make an example of the daring bitch. Eager and anxious, Lela threw a devastating question at Daina: What’s the course of the maxillary nerve, origin, distribution, fibers, and injury? She then gave her most authentic fuck you smile.

Professor Stifles interrupted. Hey, Lela. This is ENT section, remember, not neurology.

Maxillary nerve is ENT, Professor. It feeds structures here alright.

Everyone expected Daina to protest, throw a tantrum, and get back to her seat immediately. Instead, she waved her hand in acceptance.

It’s OK. That’s an easy one.

It was unusual for fifty-five-year-old Professor Eric Stifles to lose control over his class. However, witnessing that Lithuanian punk, who hadn’t attended even half of his classes, answer that unexpected, difficult question was worth an exception. Most of the class thought Daina’s next move was playing a practical joke. David Finley, who had a crush on Daina, whispered to Helen Bailey that perhaps she’d play it lewd and get topless.

Unfortunately for Finley, she didn’t. Instead, Daina told it all, from A to Z, as if reading from Gray’s Anatomy. But no, it wasn’t from Gray’s, because she said things Lela herself had never read about before.

After five minutes of amazement—during which Daina summarized more than five packed reference pages—David Finley whistled in admiration and clapped. Daina, will you marry me?

His outburst broke the tension brought on by Daina’s surprising performance—and everyone laughed but Lela. Daina whisked her skirt, bending graciously in front of her admiring crowd. She turned maliciously towards Lela, and then burst another gum bubble.

Next. Perhaps it’ll be the histology of the olfactory epithelium, said Daina.

Already losing her cool, Lela consented. Stifles protested, but Daina was already at the board with the marker, and in thirty seconds had drawn the damned cells.

These are the microvilli and this is the terminal web.

Stop it, you two. This is ENT anatomy, not neurology and not histology. Some manners, please. Daina, get back to your place.

Lela was kneading the sleeve of her top—a long-lost nervous tic from childhood. Daina rested her elbow on the podium and looked Lela right in the eyes.

Is it my turn, blondie?

I still have a question or two.

I’m dying for it to be my turn.

Lela nervously clasped her hands together. Fine, go on…

Stifles was already fed up with the girl fight, so to bring the head-to-head to a close as soon as possible, he didn’t interrupt again. When Daina looked challengingly to Stifles for permission, he nodded passively.

Embryology of the maxillary nerve, uttered Daina placidly.

What? Lela looked towards Stifles for help, but his face said not today.

Maxillary nerve is ENT, right? sneered Daina.

Lela couldn’t reply with the lowly it’s not in the college reference. She couldn’t admit to being another ordinary student. She bit her lip to control her affliction. She would have to throw a trump card.

So you know it? asked Lela cautiously.

"Sure. It’s in Clinical Neuro-embryology by Donkelaar, the 2006 edition if you have it."

Silence; everyone froze, while Lela squirmed helplessly in her place. Daina drummed her podium for a long, long string of seconds.

Too difficult? Should we skip it?

Lela turned her head to the side defiantly.

OK, Daina said, the basal cells of the olfactory epithelium. You asked me about it. Could you tell me about the types, the divisions, and the differentiation rate of that type of cell?

Lela almost collapsed in her place—she touched her temple and closed her eyes to overcome her light-headedness. To add insult to injury, the bewildered Professor Stifles challenged Daina to answer her own question.

Surprisingly, she did.

Furious, Mark Giannakos whispered in desperation, Who’s that girl sleeping with now, Einstein?

Helen, his assiduous colleague, snapped, If sex infuses genius, then perhaps we all should get in line.

Lela was walking off stage and back to her seat, head down. And apparently even Lela needs to get in line, she heard Helen say.

She had never felt more humiliated.

****

Lela resided in a luxurious apartment building across the river, on Charlesgate East Street, in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Boston’s Back Bay: a town greatly influenced by the 1860s renovation of Paris by Baron Haussmann.

When Lela returned early in the evening, one of her roommates was already at home: Kathleen Mason, another medical student, two years Lela’s senior and top of her class as well. For the past two years, their other roommate had been a Swedish girl, who had finished her internship the past summer and had just left for home, in Malmo. To afford the rent of the lush apartment, the medical girls reluctantly agreed to let a law student move in.

Kathleen Mason was a typical extrovert: socially smart, fun, and gregarious—yet demanding and pretentious. One of her social skills was her special talent in spotting people hiding distressed spirits behind giggling faces; a trait developed to quench her yearning to know something new and exciting, as well a means to patronizing someone down the line. A typical example was that very evening, when Lela returned and began recounting an episode that had happened at the drugstore—about a silly addict who asked for Tramadol with a photocopied prescription.

"The asshole insisted that he’d lost the original one and that he really needed the medication for a kidney stone. The cretin couldn’t even feign the pain well, putting his filthy hands over his belly…"

She was laughing hard.

Putting her face back into the detective novel she was reading, Kathleen muttered, Who pissed you off, girly?

Lela stopped abruptly.

Nobody. What’s wrong with you? I’m telling you a funny story and you’re being a smart ass.

Kathleen lifted her face and gave Lela a knowing, sarcastic smile.

Come to Mamma, Lela. Tell me everything.

Get off me, you freak.

Kathleen dragged her iPad over to her. OK, let’s consult Facebook. Let’s see. Oops. A status by nasty Daina has 34 likes and 212 comments. Whew, in just under forty minutes.

Lela jumped, seizing the tablet. She looked fearfully at the screen, tears welling in her eyes.

That bitch, that bitch. I’ll kick her ass back to her communist side of the world. I…

She then burst into tears. Kathleen quickly assumed her favorite role, the elder girl, hugging and offering tissues.

"Man up, Lela. You don’t want the law girl laughing at us medical warriors, thinking we’re sissies. Come on, tell me what happened. What does that bitch mean by ‘I decapitated the LELA in the altar of medicine’?"

Sniffling her tears away, Lela shared the whole Stifles’ class incident.

As I can clearly remember, that Daina was pretty much average, Kathleen wondered.

Below average. Whatever good grades she got were won by flashing her boobs and knees, Lela grumbled, drying her eyes out.

She has good legs alright.

Cut it out, Kathleen.

OK, maybe I have some insight. She was coached for this event.

But she was good, actually very good. You know me, Kathy, I wouldn’t be intimidated easily.

Those questions she asked you, believe me, would have been tough even for Stifles. She had a good coach, said Kathleen dreamily. …Perhaps, one of the best.

But who? Lela caught the reaction on Kathleen’s face. You have someone in mind?

Ahh…could be anyone, you know… Kathleen tried to regain her cool, but Lela’s scrutinizing eyes cut her way back. She garbled.

Well, there’s that pretty well-kept secret, but who knows, perhaps that Lithuanian got wind of it somehow.

And what’s that?

Two sides of Kathleen fought: the one that took pride in the established legacy of her excellence in studies and the one that enjoyed her altruistic maternal image. She had to choose which side to keep with Lela. It was a tough decision.

I, like many others, sometimes sought help for those ambiguous parts in the anatomy syllabus. Kathleen blew at a stray hair that was hanging over her nose and muttered in defeat. They call him the Egyptian.

*2*

I decapitated the LELA in the altar of medicine.

70 likes, 300 comments.

The Lithuanian chick rocks!

3 likes, 2 comments.

Lela dethroned, the myth is broken. If a moron like Daina could beat number one, anyone can.

107 likes, 24 comments.

Michael Gallagher scrolled through the Facebook sensation.

Though his mind was in a state of empathy, his heart was trembling with relief. There’d been a breakthrough, at last.

Michael, a last-year medical student, was everyone’s idea of a friend: fun, smart, and very good looking. However, the below-average, underachieving student had nothing in common with many of his colleagues but the check that enabled him into Harvard.

Even that monetary capability had been granted several years earlier, when his father opened a bank account that covered the expenses of the long-craved medical school. But since then the tide had eroded a lot of sand castles.

When ’08 came, the economic crisis hit his family harshly. Midrange bankers had to go, and so Michael’s father was one of the first. Losing their savings in the process, the family had to move to an apartment for rent in the poorer side of New York. They had to tighten the belt greatly. Still, debts chased the family, and his overwhelmed father knew he had to disappear—and so he did, the next fall.

His mother, finally free to join her in-the-shades boyfriend, left too. Therefore, two years into college, Michael was on his own—for the first time.

Earlier, Michael was just getting used to a comfortable life: of having an iPhone, driving a new car, and being able to afford daily outings to Starbucks. As such, he befriended colleagues who enjoyed the same trendy lifestyle.

However, following his parents’ waiver of support, Michael quickly ran out of both money and luck.

It would have been humiliating and distraughtly to let go of his upper-class friends. So, he did the most awkward and painstaking things to keep the company of his friends and to keep his bearings in front of them. He kept the iPhone 3G model for three years claiming that it had grown on him, less frequently bought new clothes—presumably—because he was lazy, as well studied second-hand textbooks and skeletons, and for sustenance he ate cheap readymade meals and cookies.