Peter Hamilton - Judas Unchained

“So he told you I was going to Illuminatus?”

“No. We didn’t understand what was going on, Mellanie. Which comes very hard for people like me and Nelson, especially at a time like this. I cut a deal with Michelangelo. He told me you were hunting the New York lawyers, so Nelson found them in the Saffron Clinic, and gave him the information. We wanted to know why they were important to you. After all, it had the appearance of just another Wall Street finance scam.”

“I’ll kill him.”

Nigel ran his hand through her wild hair. “I said you’d be cross.”

“With him! How can I trust him again after this?”

“You trusted a reporter?”

“Touché.”

“So I’m still favorite, am I?”

“You’re in my top hundred,” she replied airily.

“This is why I want you. You are so unlike any of the other girls I have.”

She traced his lips with her finger. “You need to get out more.”

“Say yes. Just try it for a couple of years. You can still have a career, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“It wouldn’t be my own career though would it, not really, not if I was your wife. I’d get all the openings and all the breaks, but not because of being me.”

“And the difference between that and having the SI as your agent is…?”

“Perhaps there is none,” she said quietly. “Perhaps I’m just tired of being a whore.”

“Nobody said you were a whore.”

“I said it.” Mellanie sighed, and crawled over the undulating mattress to reach her negligée. She grimaced at the snail-trail of oil she left behind on the fur.

“To reach here from where you were after Morton’s court case takes amazing determination,” he told her.

“I thought it was quite easy to get into your bed, actually.”

“I didn’t mean my bed, I meant here, this little cabal, or rebellion, whatever you want to call our motley crew. Don’t you see, what we’re going to decide in a few hours is going to determine the future of the human race. Not Doi. Not the navy. Not the Senate. Not the Dynasties. Us. You made it to the showdown. You’re going to be history, Mellanie; you’re going to be your generation’s Queen Elizabeth, or Marilyn Monroe, or Sue Baker. Don’t blink now.”

Mellanie looked down sheepishly at the negligée she was holding in her hands. She didn’t feel very historical. “I don’t know who any of them are.”

“Really? Oh. Well, the point is you went and earned yourself a place at the table. That’s why you’re so irresistible; you’re gorgeous and tough, every man’s fantasy. And mine in particular.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“Haven’t been called that in a long time.”

She yawned. “I’d better get back. I don’t want Morty to wake up without me.”

“All right,” Nigel said miserably. “Just remember, it’s an open offer.”

“Thanks. It is tempting. Does it come with a place on your lifeboat if we all make the wrong decision?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “You get a reserved cabin with a first-class view.”

“Let me guess. Your cabin is next door.”

He spread his arms wide. “Where else?”

“Is there a shower in here? I need to get this oil off.”

Nigel leered, and climbed off the bed. “I’ll show you.”

“That’s not—oh, all right.”

He guided her toward a misty glass door that was glowing turquoise. “Tell me something. What do you see in Bose?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, uncomfortable with the question, which was stupid considering what they’d spent the last hour doing. “He was useful.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure. Do you think the memory transfer will work?”

“My e-butler says it seems to be running smoothly. We’ll know for sure after breakfast.”

The bathroom was only slightly smaller than the bedroom. Mellanie looked around in delight at the Egyptian theme, then giggled at the scandalous murals. Nigel went over to the sunken spa pool in the middle; it was filled with scented water that foamed away furiously. “Showers are so boring,” he said. “Let me sponge you off in this.”

Mellanie and Morton joined Nigel’s family for breakfast out on the morning terrace. Justine and Campbell were already there, fitting in just perfectly as they chattered away.

Mellanie took her seat, not far from Nigel, who gave her a courteous welcome. She told the waiter she’d have scrambled eggs and orange juice, then helped Nuala with little Digby’s bottle. The baby already had some of Nigel’s features.

Wilson and Anna arrived, to be given a warm greeting from Nigel. Mellanie thought the ex-Admiral appeared drawn and exhausted. The genuinely warm reception from people around the table helped perk him up slightly.

Mellanie’s plate arrived, the food cooked to perfection. She tucked in, trying to listen to all the conversations at once. The amount of political and financial power gathered around the table was fascinating. She found the way everyone was so casual about the influence they wielded to be quite enticing.

The mansion’s grounds were beautiful, even though the scale was a bit intimidating when it came to living a family life. It didn’t seem to bother the harem. Her e-butler accessed files on Nigel’s wives going back a hundred years, summarizing for her; they all seemed to be from rich families, not like her. Perhaps that was why they were so comfortable with their surroundings. She could sense Morton’s keen interest in the people around him, even though he was working hard at disguising it. This was the kind of super-power status he’d thought to build for himself, until Tara Jennifer Shaheef became a potential problem.

All in all, Mellanie decided, it was going to be a lot more difficult to say no to this than she’d originally envisaged. Perhaps just a couple of years’ marriage…

Paula Myo arrived, dressed as always in a trim business suit, easily the most formal person on the terrace. She turned down breakfast, but accepted a cup of tea from a waiter. “Qatux is ready,” she told Nigel.

Morton had stopped eating when she arrived, becoming very still. Now he put down his knife and fork, and stood to face her. “Investigator,” he said with forced politeness.

The terrace fell silent as everyone watched them.

“Don’t cause a scene,” a mortified Mellanie whispered through closed teeth. She didn’t think he heard.

“Morton,” Paula said.

“Pleased to see me?”

“I’m interested to see you.”

“Now, children,” Nigel said. “Play nice, please, you’re both guests.”

Mellanie had her hand around Morton’s wrist, pulling, trying to make him sit down.

“Interested, huh? Funny how life works out. You wrecked my life, now I’m essential to your future.”

“You might be involved in how we deal with the Starflyer. But you’re hardly essential.”

“What do you mean: involved?” Morton said. “Do you have any idea what risks we took to get the Bose motile to you? Do you?”

“I am very well aware of your propensity to take inappropriate risks, as well as the delusional self-justification which you indulge in subsequently.”

“Now listen—”

Mellanie was almost pulled out of her seat keeping hold of Morton as he tried to move toward Paula. “Stop it,” she barked. “You killed her, what did you expect?”

Morton gave Mellanie a shocked look. “Is that what you think?” he asked.

She wished her super-duper SI inserts had a function that could reverse time. Just a few seconds would do. “Well, did you?” she asked weakly.

Morton sat down, all his belligerence gone. “I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t remember.”

Mellanie’s arm went around his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, Morty. It’s all over now. It’s the past.”