Coming soon from Random Fasting Glucose House Publishers: A new noir crime drama
Find thrills, chills, highs and lows with: The Insulin Thief
John’s pancreas might be firing blanks, but the gun he carried shot the real kind. Other men have their hearts stolen, he mused. Why couldn’t I have been so lucky? There was nothing more to say – his insulin was gone, and nobody had seen it go; or if they had, they weren’t talking. To make matters worse, he was getting low on cash – he seemed to be bleeding it out even faster than the stuff that caused his meter to beep.
Joe was dealing with an insulin thief, and he wanted answers, sooner rather than later; the thief had worked fast, and for all he knew, was long gone. Half the time he couldn’t tell if he was shaking with rage or hypoglycemia.
Joe’s finger tensed on the trigger of Lancet, his beloved .45. Big Pharma knew something, he was sure of it. He could never quite figure out Big, or what he was up to. The man certainly loved his excess, and never passed up an opportunity to shake Joe dry. Of course, he had dirt on Joe – who didn’t? But to Joe, the brazen blackmail meant Big was scared; as usual, he was slowing down an investigation. He had pressed this notion the last time, and it had not gone over well. “Blackmail is such an ugly word,” Big crooned, almost lovingly. “I prefer to call it…insurance.” And to show he wasn’t bluffing, he raised Joe’s “premiums.” Hans Langer, Big’s cartoonishly German assistant, had escorted Joe out. Joe saw the briefest flash of pity in the man’s Teutonic visage, and as he was shoved through the golden door, he thought he heard the briefest, accented whisper…”you’ll find what you seek…on the islet.”
What that meant, Joe had no idea. But he couldn’t pass up even the barest hint of a lead. He was running out of glucose tabs, and he was running out of time.
He was going to find that insulin thief, and he was going to make him pay.