Peter Hamilton - A Quantum Murder

"No, I don't think so. He was reasonably fit, but not really what I'd call physically powerful. And if Clarissa was held down, it was done by someone stronger than her."

"One of the other students, then?"

"Yes, possibly."

"Was there anyone else staying at the Abbey that night?"

"No. And Clarissa was still alive when the housekeeper and the maid left, we confirmed that."

"OK, can you remember the names of the other students?"

"I think so. There was five of them. Let's see: Tumber, Donaldson, MacLennan, Spencer—"

"Wait! MacLennan? James MacLennan? Dr James MacLennan?"

"Yes. That was his first name, James. I didn't know he was a doctor."

"Shitfire," Greg whispered.

Julia could barely see the far side of the rooftop landing pad. The fog was pressing in, turning the circle of close-spaced white lights around the perimeter of the pad into a hazy line of phosphorescence. The edge of the Event Horizon headquarters building was lost completely.

She was wearing a light nylon windcheater jacket over her plain amethyst-coloured stretch jersey dress. It was too warm to zip it up, but the fog was almost thick enough to be called a drizzle. Her hair was already hanging limply, sprinkled with a sugar coating of droplets. Rachel stood at her side, suede jacket buttoned up, collar raised around her neck. The rest of the reception party—Eleanor, Gabriel, and Morgan, plus some security people—were huddled together a couple of metres away.

Eleanor's smile was blinking on and off; the outright relief on her face making Julia feel like an intruder just for looking at her.

Thirty seconds, Juliet. Can you hear it?

Not yet, Grandpa, she answered silently.

She saw Morgan raise a palm-size communication set to his face and listen for a moment. "They're coming in," he announced.

Now she heard it, the whine of the turbines, low-frequency hiss of air escaping from the fan nacelles. It grew louder and louder until the dove-grey security division tilt-fan was suddenly there above the landing pad. Landing gear unfolding, small red and green wingtip strobes flashing. Its fuselage was coated in water, shining dully.

In the end she simply couldn't stay away. She didn't approve. She had made that quite clear. But ultimately it was her responsibility. Greg was only on the case because she asked him. There was no way she could go out clubbing in New Eastfield while he was risking his neck on her behalf.

Another night lost to duty.

The tilt-fan's broad low-pressure tyres touched down, hydraulic struts pistoning upwards as they absorbed the weight. The forward hatch hinged out and up, airstairs sliding down. The pilot cut the turbines. Micro-cyclones of steam poured out of the nacelles as the fans wound down.

Greg was first out, his black leather combat jacket open to show a white T-shirt, his hair sweaty, clinging to his forehead. He had a stunshot with a shoulder strap riding at his elbow, 'ware modules clipped round his belt, skull helmet thrown back, photon amp band hanging over one shoulder. He looked so… dangerous.

She watched Eleanor walk over and embrace him, arms going round his waist, a brief kiss, then resting her head on his shoulder. He hugged her tightly. It was far more eloquent than whoops of joy and backslapping.

How she'd love someone to greet her like that. Not to be, though. Although perhaps Robin…

Teddy came down the airstairs, scowling round suspiciously.

"Hello, Teddy," she said brightly. "Thank you for going in with Greg. I'm really very grateful."

He grunted in disgust. "Goddamn fucking stupid thing to do, you ask me, gal. Still, we're back in one piece." He patted one of the 'ware modules on his belt. "An' these guido bytes gonna come in mighty useful sometime soon."

She smiled warmly. Teddy always used to intimidate the hell out of her, with his size and his menacing authority. Not any more. He was a pushover. "Oh? Going to impress a lady friend with them?" She batted her eyelids.

"Je-zus wept!"

Then the security crash team started to emerge from the tilt-fan. They were wearing suits similar to Teddy's, all of them in their mid-to late-twenties. They shouted a few boisterous greetings at her, and she grinned back. She knew most of them by their first name; they treated her almost as though they were a rugby squad and she was their mascot.

Morgan always kept one team on standby in case there was ever any attempt to kidnap her. She had watched them training a few times. Lord help any tekmerc who ever went up against them.

"Gabriel?" Greg was looking at her, one arm still around Eleanor. "Where's Colin?"

"One of my people drove him home," Morgan said.

"How was he?"

"Not too bad, considering," Gabriel said. "He'll need to rest for a week or so. Proper rest. I said I'd pop in tomorrow, make sure. You know what he's like."

"Yeah."

"Shall we go in?" Morgan said. "In light of what we learned from Maurice Knebel, I believe we have quite a bit to discuss."

"And no messing," Greg said gloomily.

Julia led them into the big executive conference room, her pumps treading soundlessly on the pile carpet. Biolums came on ahead of her, banishing shadows. Grey tongues of fog licked at the windows. Westwood could be in a different universe by now for all she could tell.

The conference room was empty with just the seven of them, no secretaries, no aides. She shrugged out of her wind-cheater and hung it on the back of her chair before she sat down. Freshets of cool air trickled across her bare arms, carrying away the perspiration.

Grandpa, bring Royan in on this. I imagine we'll need him.

Besides, she wanted all her true friends together.

Plugging him in now, Juliet.

Teddy lowered himself gingerly into one of the padded chairs around the table, nodding approvingly. His combat leathers squeaked softly as he put his hands behind his head and sat back. "Man, now this is the life."

"Do you want anything to drink?" Julia asked.

"Hey, my kinda gal, you gotta beer?"

"I'll look," Rachel said. "Anybody else?" She sauntered over to the mirrored nineteen-twenties drinks cabinet.

Julia opaqued all the windows, cutting off the sight of that austere fog.

ON LINE. her recessed flatscreen printed. HI SNOWY

"Hi."

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"I'm here as well," Philip's voice announced.

Julia enjoyed the startled look on Teddy's face, the way his eyes darted round. Greg had told her Teddy took his religion very seriously indeed. Grandpa was a little bit too much like reincarnation.

"Everybody's up to date?" Greg asked. "Julia? Royan?"

"Yah."

YES YES YES.

"OK," Greg said. "We have a new player on the field, James MacLennan."

"I'm assembling a profile," Philip said. "Every byte I can find, public and private files; plus a financial run down. Should be ready in quarter of an hour."

"So what happened?" Julia asked. "Did MacLennan let Bursken out for the night?"

"I was thinking about that," Greg said. "We're faced with the same problem for Bursken as we were with a tekmerc penetration mission. How did he get in and out of Launde Abbey without leaving any trace?"

"Oh, yes," she felt silly for asking.

"And in any case, Eleanor and I saw Nicholas do it."

"It could have been an alternative past," Eleanor said; she sounded doubtful.

"No. If you ask me," Greg said slowly. "I think it was Nicholas Beswick who actually physically murdered Kitchener."

"Oh, Jesus," Eleanor murmured.

He patted her hand, receiving an exasperated glance.

"Physically, he did it. And that was what threw me the first time. Nicholas Beswick isn't the type. We all know that. He couldn't harm a fly, not ordinarily."