Read Online The Age Of Zeus by James Lovegrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Lovegrove
Tags: Science-Fiction
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considered highly improbable. The cameras fed to a computer equipped with facial recognition software that had the features of all of the Pantheon on its database. Only an Olympian appearing on the island would trip the bunker alarms, no one else.
Soon the ground sloped up and Ramsay and Sam were trekking across a field of tussocky, ankle-deep grass. This took them to Bleaney's southernmost tip, where a high promontory afforded a panoramic view of a sea like a glittering plain of black diamonds.
"Don't give up, girl," Ramsay said, as they stood there gazing out.
"Don't call me 'girl,'" Sam replied. "Unless you'd like me to start calling you 'boy.'"
"There are several reasons why I wouldn't want that," Ramsay said. "But I take the point. Don't give up, Sam ."
"I can't see why I should carry on. I'm rubbish at this. Landesman wants a squad of crack troops, not crap troops. The way I am in that suit, I'd only be a liability."
"Landesman wants you to be a part of this more than anyone. Don't do yourself down. Just keep at it, and meantime cut yourself a little slack."
"But this is so typical of me. I was always the one at school who'd have to have the quadratic equation explained to me one more time, always the one the teachers would single out to make sure I'd completely understood the reproductive cycle of the frog or how an oxbow lake is formed or whatever. The slow one. If I'd got it, that meant everyone else in the class had."
"What I've seen, you're the smartest among us."
"Which might be taken as an indictment of the rest of you."
Ramsay snorted.
"I'm thorough, that's my thing," Sam said. "I'm good with details - assessing them, sifting through them, arriving at a conclusion. I don't get there fast but I do get there in the end."
"Then that'll be the case here, won't it? You'll need a little longer than the rest of us, but once you catch up there'll be no stopping you."
"You believe that?"
"You just told me that's how you are, so of course I believe it."
Had there been less of a moon, more darkness for concealment, Sam would have smiled.
"You were on your way to becoming a top cop, weren't you?" Ramsay continued. "That's proof of how able you are. The only person who's stopping you right now, Sam, is Sam. You just need to have faith in yourself. Be a bit more confident."
"Like you, you mean?"
"Hell yeah."
"Where's the line between confident and cocksure?"
"No idea, but if I cross it, I'll let you know."
Ramsay gave that gurgling-downpipe chortle of his. It was becoming the thing that Sam most liked about him, after his perma-flared nostrils. It was an ungraceful sound but so full of authentic amusement that you couldn't help but warm to it.
Hot on the heels of that thought came another: the memory of a man who had loved to laugh and whose laugh she had loved. And with that Sam felt a familiar brittleness inside, a sense of breaking, as a structure built to contain grief suddenly gave in to its own frailty - yet again - unable to support the weight of anything much that came to rest on it, any emotion, whether it be sadness or joy, regret or hope.
"Sam? You OK?"
"Hmm? Yes."
"You went quiet there."
"Getting chilly. I should have worn something warmer. Can we go back in?"
Halfway back to the bunker, Ramsay said, "That business between Landesman and Pugh. What's your take on what happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's been bugging me. When Landesman paid Pugh off - I don't know how much it was but I glimpsed a fair few zeroes on that cheque - but when he did that, didn't the whole thing strike you as kinda, well, staged?"
"You're saying Pugh was a ringer? Landesman planted him in that room?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"I was hoping you might be able to tell me."
"It all looked pretty above board to me. Pugh's a waster, a liar, a crook. He realised he didn't want to be there after all, and Landesman realised he didn't want him there. The cheque was compensation but also to buy silence. Just in case."
"You
Soon the ground sloped up and Ramsay and Sam were trekking across a field of tussocky, ankle-deep grass. This took them to Bleaney's southernmost tip, where a high promontory afforded a panoramic view of a sea like a glittering plain of black diamonds.
"Don't give up, girl," Ramsay said, as they stood there gazing out.
"Don't call me 'girl,'" Sam replied. "Unless you'd like me to start calling you 'boy.'"
"There are several reasons why I wouldn't want that," Ramsay said. "But I take the point. Don't give up, Sam ."
"I can't see why I should carry on. I'm rubbish at this. Landesman wants a squad of crack troops, not crap troops. The way I am in that suit, I'd only be a liability."
"Landesman wants you to be a part of this more than anyone. Don't do yourself down. Just keep at it, and meantime cut yourself a little slack."
"But this is so typical of me. I was always the one at school who'd have to have the quadratic equation explained to me one more time, always the one the teachers would single out to make sure I'd completely understood the reproductive cycle of the frog or how an oxbow lake is formed or whatever. The slow one. If I'd got it, that meant everyone else in the class had."
"What I've seen, you're the smartest among us."
"Which might be taken as an indictment of the rest of you."
Ramsay snorted.
"I'm thorough, that's my thing," Sam said. "I'm good with details - assessing them, sifting through them, arriving at a conclusion. I don't get there fast but I do get there in the end."
"Then that'll be the case here, won't it? You'll need a little longer than the rest of us, but once you catch up there'll be no stopping you."
"You believe that?"
"You just told me that's how you are, so of course I believe it."
Had there been less of a moon, more darkness for concealment, Sam would have smiled.
"You were on your way to becoming a top cop, weren't you?" Ramsay continued. "That's proof of how able you are. The only person who's stopping you right now, Sam, is Sam. You just need to have faith in yourself. Be a bit more confident."
"Like you, you mean?"
"Hell yeah."
"Where's the line between confident and cocksure?"
"No idea, but if I cross it, I'll let you know."
Ramsay gave that gurgling-downpipe chortle of his. It was becoming the thing that Sam most liked about him, after his perma-flared nostrils. It was an ungraceful sound but so full of authentic amusement that you couldn't help but warm to it.
Hot on the heels of that thought came another: the memory of a man who had loved to laugh and whose laugh she had loved. And with that Sam felt a familiar brittleness inside, a sense of breaking, as a structure built to contain grief suddenly gave in to its own frailty - yet again - unable to support the weight of anything much that came to rest on it, any emotion, whether it be sadness or joy, regret or hope.
"Sam? You OK?"
"Hmm? Yes."
"You went quiet there."
"Getting chilly. I should have worn something warmer. Can we go back in?"
Halfway back to the bunker, Ramsay said, "That business between Landesman and Pugh. What's your take on what happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's been bugging me. When Landesman paid Pugh off - I don't know how much it was but I glimpsed a fair few zeroes on that cheque - but when he did that, didn't the whole thing strike you as kinda, well, staged?"
"You're saying Pugh was a ringer? Landesman planted him in that room?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"I was hoping you might be able to tell me."
"It all looked pretty above board to me. Pugh's a waster, a liar, a crook. He realised he didn't want to be there after all, and Landesman realised he didn't want him there. The cheque was compensation but also to buy silence. Just in case."
"You
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