Read Online Aftershock by Sam Fisher - Free Book Online

staring. ‘What’s up, Brett? Still off the shit for a while?’
    He nodded. ‘I think it’s best I stay level-headed, don’t you?’
    She shrugged. ‘I hate this place. Gives me the creeps. Knew it would.’
    â€˜God, I think it’s fabulous.’
    â€˜You would!’
    He stood up and stared out at the panorama of the ocean again. He had never seen such diversity of life before, even in an aquarium. And this building ... what a feat of engineering. It was a technological miracle, barely conceivable.
    Kristy Sunshine ran a hand across her forehead. ‘For God’s sake. Can you pull the curtains. All that blue is giving me a headache. Not what I need, baby.’
    â€˜There are no curtains,’ Littleton said, a touch more bite in his voice than he had intended.
    â€˜There are no curtains...’ Kristy mimicked. ‘There must be fucking curtains.’
    Littleton had paced over to a panel close to the TV. ‘The glass can be polarised to filter out the light,’ he said. ‘Look.’ And he depressed a button on a control panel fixed to the wall. Slowly, the glass darkened. ‘Weren’t you paying any attention to Johnny or Michael when they escorted us up here, Kris?’
    â€˜Well duh! Obviously, that would be a “no”.’
    The singer pulled herself up from the coffee table and walked a little unsteadily towards a cabinet a few metres from where Littleton was standing. On top of the cabinet stood a small case containing more cocaine. She opened the lid and started to spoon some onto a tray as though it were sherbet.
    â€˜Kris, do you really...?’
    The girl whirled on her manager. She opened her mouth to speak just as the door buzzer sounded. Brett Littleton strode across the room. A young man with the face of a jaded angel, all cheekbones and black rings under his eyes, appeared at the edge of the door. He cleared his throat. ‘One hour to stage call, Miss...’
    â€˜Thanks, Trent,’ Littleton said and closed the door on the kid.

13
The Neptune Hotel, Room 307
    Hilary Xavier sat in front of the TV in the family’s suite in the magnificent edifice her husband Michael had built and let the effects of the vodka soak through her. She blew a strand of peroxide blonde hair away from her face and when it fell back, she pulled it behind her ear irritably. She felt fat, but then she always felt fat, even if her doctor kept telling her to put on weight. She knew she drank too much, but she made up for it by not eating. That was supposed to keep the weight off, or at least that’s what she’d read. She was always tired these days, and she felt old, much older than her 36 years.
    She could hear her nine-year-old twins, Emily and Nick, in the next room, playing with the Wii. She was no longer paying any attention to the TV show, a rerun of Will and Grace . Her mind had started to wander, and when it wandered it always alighted on the same subject – her miserable life.
    â€˜What the hell went wrong?’ she said aloud to the room, her voice drowned out by the TV and the noise from next door. ‘I was clever once. Yes, clever. A First at Oxford, no less. Plenty under the bonnet, people used to say. And I was beautiful. Brains and beauty, a rare thing, not just a Porsche without an engine. But now ... now what? Here I am, mid thirties, a mother of twins, married to a billionaire. I have homes in London, New York, Santa Barbara and Monaco. I’ve had a racehorse named after me, for Christ’s sake. I had the Rolling Stones perform at my thirtieth. The diamond of my engagement ring is the size of Madagascar, and yet I’m so unhappy I contemplate suicide every single day . How does that happen?’
    She refilled her glass.
    Yes, she had every material thing anyone could ever wish for, and more, and she loved her kids. But her marriage? That lay in tatters. Michael was a good man. Everyone loved