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Thriller is a genre in literature. Thriller completely independent genre. Books of this genre are available now for your attention. We add new Thriller books to our e-library every day every day. Always interesting and instructive to read using our elibrary.
Only occasionally does a rather skillfully tailored product come off this ā€œconveyor lineā€ that really has any merit in order to stand out from the basically homogeneous literary mass. Our electronic library is full of thriller highlights.
ā€œThrillerā€ is a modern term.
This genre is classified by causing a sudden outburst of emotion in the reader.
Thriller elements are present in many works of different genres. Thriller mix of fantasy and detective. Of course, reading thriller novels of high quality in terms of content and form of presentation is a very useful, informative and even, in some cases, instructive activity. However, the reader must understand in advance that sometimes a detailed description of many bloody fights, shootings and martial arts, the suffering of numerous victims, all kinds of confrontations can cause him a kind of rejection from further reading works of this genre of literature.


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Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, thereā€™s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. Itā€™s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.Itā€™s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in ā€œfairytale love story.ā€



Reading thrillers facilitates to the formation of a person's sense of danger and makes him avoid such situations in every possible way in real life. At the same time, the reader can use the example of books to form his own line of behavior in real situations. Thrillers contribute to the development of the sixth sense - intuition. The reader will definitely remember the heroes of thrillers, because they operate in extreme circumstances and must include all means for survival. Filmmakers are always on the lookout for new releases in thriller. Scripts are created every day, that are even more sophisticated and dynamic. Based on these scenarios, new films will be screened, that attract tens of thousands of fans thriller genre. Therefore, each reader will be interested in how it was possible to embody the complexity of the plot on the screen, which is described in the original book. The great success of thrillers on the screen, the basis will still be a book.



You may also be interested in books of the MYSTERY & CRIME or HORROR genre


Read books online Ā» Thriller Ā» Syndrome by Thomas Hoover (read along books txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Syndrome by Thomas Hoover (read along books txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author Thomas Hoover



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to be around to see that? To have your own time slow down while the world around you went on?ā€

Stone was looking out into space, wonderingā€¦ not whether Winston Bartlett was an egomaniacal madman but rather how truly mad he really was.

Flying in the helicopter, he felt like Faust being shown the world by Mephistopheles. Except here Satan was his own father, offering him a teasing prospect of what it would be like to live on and on.

It would make a hell of a story. The problem was, miracles always came with some kind of terrible price. What was the price this time?

Then he had another thought. Was that what had happened to Kristen? Was she paying the price for some kind of hubris that pushed nature too far? Nobody had claimed she had any kind of medical condition that necessitated a stem cell intervention. So had she been experimenting with some other procedure? Had Mephistopheles now called in his marker?

He wanted to ask but the vibration and the noise made his brain feel like it was in a blender.

ā€œDo you understand what Iā€™m saying?ā€ Bartlett went on. ā€œDo you want to be part of the most exciting development in the history of medicine? Well, this is your chance. There is a majestic experiment under way. But now we know itā€™s not for the fainthearted. The question is, do you want to live life or just write about it?ā€

ā€œI think itā€™s time I heard the whole story,ā€ Stone said finally, forcing out the words. ā€œWhatā€™s your part in this ā€˜experimentā€™?ā€

ā€œIā€™ve put everything at risk, but now Iā€™m this close to controlling the clock. Soā€¦ are you my son? My flesh and blood? Do you have the balls to try it too?ā€

Stone suspected the question was rhetorical. He was already up to his neck in whatever was going on. He just didnā€™t yet know how big a part of it he was. While heā€™d been sedated overnight, had they started experiments on him?

He knew that some of the buzz about stem cells involved the fantasy that someday they might be used to forestall the aging process. Responsible researchers all said that they werenā€™t trying to extend life; they were only hoping to make a normal lifetime more livable. Rejuvenative medicine. Winston Bartlett, however, had just taken stem cell potential to its obvious conclusion; he was talking about doing what others did not dare. Regenerative medicine.

ā€œWhat would we give to be able to look forward to thousands of mornings like this, ending it all only when we chose?ā€ he declared his hands sweeping over the dense green beneath them. ā€œTime would become something that merely flows endlessly through us, ever renewing. So-called old age would cease to exist, at least for those with the courage to take the necessary risks.ā€

Now they were moving above the pine forests that comprised the outer ring of the Greater New York suburbs, as below them the green wilds of New Jersey, north of the GW Bridge, were sweeping by.

Hmmm, Stone pondered if a man somehow stopped growing older and nobody else did, at some point heā€™d end up being the same ā€œage ā€ as his grandchildren. That caused him to think again about Amy and wonder if Bartlett would ever reconcile himself to her existenceā€¦.

A few minutes later, he looked down and saw a wide clearing in the trees and a red-tile roof. They had arrived but from the air, the Dorian Institute gave no clue to the momentous research going on inside.

Bartlett said nothing as they began their descent, and in moments they were settling onto the rooftop landing pad. The downdraft from the rotor cleared away a few soggy leaves, which had somehow blown there, and then the Japanese pilot cut the power and the sound died away. When Bartlett opened the side door, the first thing Stone noticed was the fresh, forest-scented morning air against his face.

He found himself wondering whether the roar of the engine had disturbed the patients, but that was almost beside the point. The Dorian Institute was not, he now realized, merely about using stem cell technology to heal the sick. Bartlett had been letting him know that it was also about an experiment that was much, much more profound.

In the silence that followed, Bartlett stepped onto the pad and lit a thin, filtered cigar. (For somebody whoā€™d just been talking about how long it was possible to live, the act confounded credulity.) He took a deep drag, then tossed it onto the paving and peered back through the opening.

ā€œAre you able to walk yet?ā€

ā€œI think I can manage,ā€ Stone said. He actually wasnā€™t sure at all. The vibrations of the chopper had done serious damage to his sense of equilibrium.

But he did find he could take small steps. As they moved to the stairwell leading down to the third-floor elevator, Bartlett said, ā€œI know youā€™ve been here once before. You tried to sneak in. Grant saw you and sent you packing. Well, this time youā€™re here for real. The full experience. Weā€™re going to start by taking you down to the lab and checking you in.ā€

The man, Stone suspected, was trying to hide everything that was going on in his mind. He wanted to talk about grandiose themes, but his mind was really somewhere else. Beneath all the braggadocio, there was the smell of deep, abiding fear. Winston Bartlett was in some kind of major denial.

ā€œYou know, life has been good to me,ā€ Bartlett declared as though thinking out loud. ā€œIā€™ve done and seen things most mortals can only dream of. Iā€™m sixty-seven, but I feel as though Iā€™ve only just begun to live. And thatā€™s what I intend to happen.ā€ He turned back to Stone. ā€œWhether I have a son to share this with remains to be seen.ā€

A son? Stone glanced back at the man Bartlett had called Ken, who was now shutting down the McDonnell Douglas. Maybe he was a surrogate son for Bartlett. He was clearly a lot more than a bodyguard. Heā€™d been the one who nabbed Kristen and returned her to the reservation. So what did he think of whatever was going on? Or what about Allyā€™s brother, Grant? Heā€™d claimed he was the son Bartlett longed for and had never had.

Winston Bartlett already had a surfeit of sons.

When they walked through the door and into the hallway of the third floor, it was milling with the breakfast crowd, nurses and patients, but no one took any special notice of Winston Bartlett, the man who had made it all possible. Did they even know who he was? Stone wondered.

ā€œWeā€™re going downstairs.ā€ Bartlett directed him toward the elevator. ā€œIā€™m still offering you a choice. You can be part of the biggest medical advance in human history, or you can be just another impediment.ā€

Stone glanced at his watch. The hour was just shy of nine.

Where is Ally? What kind of procedure has she undergone? Is she okay? He had to find her.

As they headed down, he felt like it was a descent into some pit of no return. Winston Bartlett had not elaborated on what awaited down there. It was as though he couldnā€™t bring himself to face whatever it really was.

What was the worst-case scenario at this point?

What he had to do was figure that out and then plan a countermove.

Chapter 32

Friday, April 10

7:48 P.M.

There are sounds of doors opening and closing, with whispered words that are like alien hisses. She senses she is in motion, on a bed that is gliding past powerful overhead lights.

She doesnā€™t know where she is, but that doesnā€™t matter, because wherever it was, she knows it surely is a dream.

All she remembers is that Karl Van de Vliet had told her he wants her to undergo a second procedure with the telomerase enzyme, which possibly might create sufficient antibodies to reverseā€¦ Itā€™s all a jumble now in her mind.

Or had she just dreamed all that? Now her life seems a flowing river that has no beginning and no end. Her mind is drifting, a cork bobbing helplessly in the current.

Then her brother, Grant, drifts alongside her. At least she thinks itā€™s Grant. She recognizes his voice.

ā€œAlly, can you hear me?ā€ he seems to be asking. ā€œIs there anything you want to tell me? Do you still want to go through with this?ā€

Itā€™s the kind of dream where she can hear things around her, but when she tries to speak, no sounds will come. Instead, sheā€™s talking inside her head.

Iā€™m afraid. Iā€™m just afraid.

ā€œI can still try to get you out, but you have to help. I waited for you last night but you never came.ā€

She wants to say, yes, get me out, but she can only speak in the dream.

Now the lighting changes and she feels like she is falling. No, she realizes, sheā€™s just on an elevator.

ā€œTalk to me, Ally,ā€ whispers the voice one last time. ā€œI can try to stop them, but I have to know what you want.ā€

Then a door opens and she floats through it and out. Then comes the clanking of a door that reminds her of the steel air lock sheā€™d gone through last night looking for Kristen. The smells. Sheā€™s in the laboratory.

ā€œWe can take her from here,ā€ comes a voice, drifting through her reverie.

She fantasizes itā€™s Karl Van de Vliet. Or maybe he really is there. In her dream state itā€™s hard to know. But he isnā€™t alone.

ā€œYou said youā€™d make one more attempt to create the antibodies. Isā€¦ ā€œ

Itā€™s Winston Bartlett. Or at least it sounds like him.

ā€œI said I would do all I could, W.B. The first attemptā€¦ you know what happened. I got almost no results, but I gave you an injection of all I managed to garner. Today I spent the day doing simulations. Weā€™re working closer to the edge than I thought. Thatā€™s why I needed her down at the lab tonight. I want to run some more tests and then try to make a decision. Tonight. Thereā€™s just a hell of a lot more risk than I first thought.ā€

The voice trails off and Ally finds herself trying to comprehend ā€œrisk.ā€

She hears ā€œbetaā€ again and it floats through her mind, but now its meaning is unclear. Itā€™s something sheā€™d heard but can no longer place.

ā€œAlly,ā€ comes a ghostly voice. Surely this is a dream, and she recognizes it as her father, Arthur. Now she can see him. Heā€™s wearing a white cap and theyā€™re boating in Central Park. He shows up in her dreams a lot and she feels heā€™s the messenger of her unconscious, telling her truths that she sometimes doesnā€™t want to hear.

ā€œAlly,ā€ he says, ā€œheā€™s going to perform the full Beta procedure on you. He didnā€™t tell you, but you know itā€™s true. He thinks heā€™s finally calculated everything right. Canā€™t you see? Is that what you want?ā€

She isnā€™t sure what she wants. And right now she isnā€™t entirely clear where she fits on the scale of sleeping/waking. It is so bizarre. The two parts of her mind, the conscious and the unconscious, are talking to each other. Her unconscious is warning her about fears she didnā€™t even know she had. Or at least she hadnā€™t admitted to yet.

Then she hears Winston Bartlettā€™s voice again.

ā€œKarl, we canā€™t save Kristen now. Iā€™ve finally realized that. Sheā€™s gone too far. Itā€™s just a tragedy weā€™ll have to figure out how to live with.ā€

ā€œThe body is a complex chemical laboratory that sometimes gets out of balance. Thereā€™s always hope. I thinkā€”ā€

ā€œKnow what I fucking think?ā€ Bartlett cuts him off. ā€œI think

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