Read Online Omega by Stewart Farrar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stewart Farrar
Tags: Science-Fiction
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down, smiling.
The coroner lifted his hand to still the murmur that ran round the court. 'It is clear to me that further police investigation is necessary in this case, before a proper verdict can be arrived at. Among the aspects calling for investigation ...' (he looked steadily at Wharton and then at Miss Chalmers)'. .. is the possibility that perjury has been committed. Superintendent, you will please speak with me in my office after the court has risen. This inquest stands adjourned sine die.'
'Sally, I've never been so angry in my life,' Moira said. 'God knows what Mike Wharton and that Chalmers woman are up to. But I didn't believe a bloody word of it.'
'Nor did the coroner,' Dan snorted. 'He made that pretty clear.'
'What frightens me is that I don't think they expected him to believe it. All that was for Joe Public'
'I hope Joe Public isn't that stupid,' Dan said.
Sally asked drily: 'Do you want to bet?'
'Oh, I know but . . . All right, people will read it but they'll also read that the coroner practically called them liars.'
'Do you want to bet on that, too?'
They were interrupted by the sound of the evening paper, falling on the front doormat. Dan went to fetch it. Moira and Sally heard him pick it up but his footsteps halted halfway down the hall.
'Come on,' Sally called. 'Let's know the worst.'
Dan came in and threw the paper down in front of them. The banner headline read:
'BLOOD SACRIFICE AT WITCH RIOT? Inquest Adjourned for Probe'.
They read the story through together. The main emphasis was on Wharton's and Miss Chalmers' evidence and on the solicitor's attack on the pathologist's evidence. The coroner's remarks on possible perjury were not quoted.
'The next stage,' Moira said bitterly, 'will be the bricks through our windows.’
Come Devil or Doomsday, Miss Smith was enjoying herself. It was high summer; she, the caravan, and Ginger Lad were all three in excellent health, and she was quite content to be a directionless nomad for a while. The crisis would erupt soon enough - of that she was still sure -but until she could see the shape of it, she was making no definite plan. It was enough to be mobile and free, and out of town.
She followed the news carefully on the radio and on her little fifteen-centimetre television and bought a different newspaper each day in the hope of getting a cross-section of what was being thought and said; though she had a growing feeling that the media were not being frank. There was no formal censorship as yet but a lifetime in local government had given Miss Smith a sensitive nose for the symptoms of back-door pressures and Establishment manipulation and that nose told her that such influences were increasingly active.
But sniffing the political wind was only a minor part of Miss Smith's new way of life. What she enjoyed most was exercising and perfecting her ability to live off the land.
She was quite skilled at it already; she had been an enthusiastic camper since she was a girl. Then, it had been a bicycle and a tent. In her twenties she had graduated to a Lambretta scooter, and in due course to her first motor caravan. With characteristic thoroughness, she had taught herself how to maintain it. Within a year she could, and did, dismantle and reassemble the engine. Her present caravan was her fourth and most luxurious; she had bought it brand-new two years ago, when her father had died and left her a few thousand in life insurance.
Camping and caravanning had become an addiction with her, as she cheerfully admitted. A boyfriend had once persuaded her to join him in a package-tour holiday in Greece; the boyfriend had been satisfactory, but the confinement of hotel life had been less so. Her eyes had always been on the olive-studded hills and the emptier beaches, while his had been on the bars and the concrete swimming pools. She had liked him but she had been only briefly upset when six months later he had transferred his affections to a night-club hostess in
The coroner lifted his hand to still the murmur that ran round the court. 'It is clear to me that further police investigation is necessary in this case, before a proper verdict can be arrived at. Among the aspects calling for investigation ...' (he looked steadily at Wharton and then at Miss Chalmers)'. .. is the possibility that perjury has been committed. Superintendent, you will please speak with me in my office after the court has risen. This inquest stands adjourned sine die.'
'Sally, I've never been so angry in my life,' Moira said. 'God knows what Mike Wharton and that Chalmers woman are up to. But I didn't believe a bloody word of it.'
'Nor did the coroner,' Dan snorted. 'He made that pretty clear.'
'What frightens me is that I don't think they expected him to believe it. All that was for Joe Public'
'I hope Joe Public isn't that stupid,' Dan said.
Sally asked drily: 'Do you want to bet?'
'Oh, I know but . . . All right, people will read it but they'll also read that the coroner practically called them liars.'
'Do you want to bet on that, too?'
They were interrupted by the sound of the evening paper, falling on the front doormat. Dan went to fetch it. Moira and Sally heard him pick it up but his footsteps halted halfway down the hall.
'Come on,' Sally called. 'Let's know the worst.'
Dan came in and threw the paper down in front of them. The banner headline read:
'BLOOD SACRIFICE AT WITCH RIOT? Inquest Adjourned for Probe'.
They read the story through together. The main emphasis was on Wharton's and Miss Chalmers' evidence and on the solicitor's attack on the pathologist's evidence. The coroner's remarks on possible perjury were not quoted.
'The next stage,' Moira said bitterly, 'will be the bricks through our windows.’
Come Devil or Doomsday, Miss Smith was enjoying herself. It was high summer; she, the caravan, and Ginger Lad were all three in excellent health, and she was quite content to be a directionless nomad for a while. The crisis would erupt soon enough - of that she was still sure -but until she could see the shape of it, she was making no definite plan. It was enough to be mobile and free, and out of town.
She followed the news carefully on the radio and on her little fifteen-centimetre television and bought a different newspaper each day in the hope of getting a cross-section of what was being thought and said; though she had a growing feeling that the media were not being frank. There was no formal censorship as yet but a lifetime in local government had given Miss Smith a sensitive nose for the symptoms of back-door pressures and Establishment manipulation and that nose told her that such influences were increasingly active.
But sniffing the political wind was only a minor part of Miss Smith's new way of life. What she enjoyed most was exercising and perfecting her ability to live off the land.
She was quite skilled at it already; she had been an enthusiastic camper since she was a girl. Then, it had been a bicycle and a tent. In her twenties she had graduated to a Lambretta scooter, and in due course to her first motor caravan. With characteristic thoroughness, she had taught herself how to maintain it. Within a year she could, and did, dismantle and reassemble the engine. Her present caravan was her fourth and most luxurious; she had bought it brand-new two years ago, when her father had died and left her a few thousand in life insurance.
Camping and caravanning had become an addiction with her, as she cheerfully admitted. A boyfriend had once persuaded her to join him in a package-tour holiday in Greece; the boyfriend had been satisfactory, but the confinement of hotel life had been less so. Her eyes had always been on the olive-studded hills and the emptier beaches, while his had been on the bars and the concrete swimming pools. She had liked him but she had been only briefly upset when six months later he had transferred his affections to a night-club hostess in
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