Vector First

Despite not really enjoying it as much as I hoped, I still finished it . . . it being Vector by Robin Cook. It took me back to summer days when I hung out with my grandfather on his Bed and Breakfast (see HERE) in Chappell Hill. 

We would go hit the resale book shop in Brenham and I'd buy novels. I'd buy Louis L'Amour books, Stephen King novels, whatever Sci-Fi and Fantasy books they might have. We, my grandfather and I, were voracious readers and would compete to see who could read the most and return the most books while we were there. I remember buying Robin Cook's there too. I guess as a young student, middle schooler and high schooler, he was fun to read. 

As I wrote a bit ago, not so much anymore.

Jason Papparis had been in the rug business for almost thirty years. He started in the Plaka district of Athens in the late sixties, selling mostly goatskins, sheepskins, and fur rugs to American tourists. He did well and enjoyed himself, especially with the young, college-age female tourists to whom he invariably and graciously availed himself to show the nightlife of his beloved city. 

Then fate intervened. On a sultry summer night, Helen Herman of Queens, New York, wandered into his shop and absently caressed some of Jason's higher-quality rugs. A romantic at heart, Helen found herself swept off her feet by an irresistible combination of Jason's soulful eyes and fervent attentions and the romantic mystique of Greece.

Jason's ardor had been no less. After Helen's departure for the States, Jason found himself inconsolably lonely. An impassioned correspondence began, followed by a visit. Jason's trip to New York only fanned the fires of desire. Ultimately he emigrated, married Helen, and took his business to Manhattan.

Jason's business thrived. The extensive contacts he had established over the years with rug producers in both Greece and Turkey stood him in good stead and provided Jason with a monopoly of sorts. Instead of opening a retail shop in New York, Jason had wisely opted for a wholesale business. It was a lean operation. He had no employees. All he had was an office in Manhattan and a warehouse in Queens. He outsourced all his shipped and inventory control and occasionally he hired temps for clerical work.

The business operated by telephone and fax. Consequently, Jason' office door was always locked. 

As far a thriller go, hardly a great first line or opening sentence.