Sir Laurence maintained an uneasy silence. ‘You’ve just sentenced me to death, Samson.’ ‘Christ,’ said the young man, sinking down into a leather armchair as if he’d suddenly lost the power of his legs. Sir Laurence Samson’s consulting rooms in Harley Street were very much the model of English town-house furnishing at its best, giving well-heeled patients the assurance that money and privilege would help with medical care as it had in all other areas of their lives. While clinics and consulting rooms in the public domain tend to look the part, with equipment and medical paraphernalia much in evidence and the smells of antisepsis lingering in the air, those in the private sector strive for the opposite. The test results were absolutely crystal clear.’
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