Greg Mandel 1 - Mindstar Rising by Peter F. Hamilton

Author:Peter F. Hamilton [Hamilton, Peter F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Adventure, Fiction, Detective and mystery stories, Conspiracies, Mystery & Detective, Telepathy, Mandel; Greg (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780812590562
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 1997-05-15T06:20:52+00:00

'It has to be a personal vendetta,' Julia said. 'That means Kendric's behind it, and the mole exists, doesn't it?'

'Possibly,' Greg said. He seemed strangely reluctant to commit himself. But she knew. It was Kendric. She'd always known. There was almost a feeling of contentment accompanying the conviction.

'I'd like you to get some of your security programmers hooked into the Event Horizon datanet,' Greg said. 'See if they can backtrack the hotrods if this second attack does happen.'

'Good idea, boy. I'll get Waishaw on it.'

Greg and Gabriel rose. He gave Julia an encouraging smile. 'Don't worry, it's just a question of waiting to see which lead takes us to the organizer. Mter tomorrow's interviews our Dptions should be clear enough to start making some headway.'

She couldn't draw as much comfort from his words as she would've liked. The promises were too vague. But at least he was trying to help her, some part of him cared.

The two of them departed, leaving her alone in the study ~vith the feverishly active memories of a dead man, and the ~ot rain swatting the window.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

H

ALF-PAST two in the morning found Greg lying on his back, hands behind his head, staring up at the blackness which hid the bedroom ceiling. He could hear the reservoir's wavelets swishing on the shore outside.

The deer had come to drink under cover of the night, venturing out of the new persimmon plantation at the back of Berrybut spinney. His fading espersense perceived their minds as small cool globes of violet light, timid and alert. Eleanor had been entranced with them for the first couple of weeks after she'd moved in, waiting up each night to see them slip furtively out of the trees.

The afternoon rain had lowered the temperature appreciably, but sleep was impossible. Intuition was running riot inside his cranium, even though he'd ended the gland's secretions. Swirling random thoughts clumped together, producing an image. It didn't matter how many times he told himself to forget it, the image just kept reforming. The same one, over and over.

Eleanor let out a soft hum, and wriggled slightly. He hoped he featured in that dream.

No good. He wasn't going to sleep.

Greg went through the usual mincing motions as he slid gingerly out of bed, making far more noise than if he'd just done it properly. Eleanor sighed again. He pulled the duvet up round her bare shoulders, then put on his towelling robe and went into the lounge.

Through the chalet's front windows he could see the moonlight painting the checkerboard pattern of Hambleton peninsula's meadows and orange groves in mezzotint contrasts. Silent and serene. Strange how remote it seemed from the kind of global-class corporate battles fought only a few kilometres away in Peterborough. He sometimes wondered if a day would come when he wouldn't be able to leave, giving up on the

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external world and all its conflicts. And who would really be hurt if he did let go? Certainly not Eleanor.

Greg closed his eyes, but instead of Rutland Water's landscape there was only the taunting image.

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