Philip Evans died two days later. His funeral was the biggest civic event to be held in Peterborough for two generations. The Prime Minister and two senior royals were in respectful attendance. His will named Julia Hazel Snowflower Evans as his sole beneficiary. CHAPTER THIRTEEN J ulia watched the crackling life of the night-time city through the Rolls-Royce’s tinted windows, impatient for the ride to be over, the drama she’d conceived to unfold. She could almost believe they were driving through some German metropolis. Peterborough’s New Eastfleld district possessed the same frantic pace and power, the strut that came from being number one. Its buildings were post-Warming, laid out in a precise geometrical array, like Manhattan before the Anarchy March. They were foreign funded, a thorn in the side of the PSP, physical evidence the Party couldn’t fulfil its promises. All of them followed the same palaeo-Spanish theme, six-storey, marble or cut stone, with long balconies that sported a profusion of greenery and flowers. Smart-uniformed doormen stood outside the gingery smoked-glass lobbies. Wealth was everywhere, in clothes, jewellery, salon beauty; in the absence of bicycles and graffiti. The road was clogged with traffic: gas-electric hybrid BMWs and Mercs cruised up and down, their headlights and tail-lights two contrasting severed ribbons of light. The folksy tables of pavement cafйs were spread out under brightly striped awnings, alternating with arched entrances into small arcades of exclusive shops. Brightly lit windows full of designer-label clothes and esoteric gear silhouetted the fast-moving pedestrians, painting their faces in cool neon tones. Soft warm rain had fallen earlier in the evening, its residual sheen reflecting gaudy biolum ads in long wavering flames from walls and paving slabs. But the prosperity was only a few blocks across. A ghetto of the rich. She remembered Grandpa saying that New Eastfield was a seed, that in a proper economy this kind of life style would spread out like a microbe culture, consuming and changing its surrounding neighbourhoods, right out to the city P(TIR F. HAMILTON 114 boundaries. He’d wanted the New Conservatives to build cores like it in every English city, showcases for a top-led society, the acceptable face of capitalism. Good old Grandpa. An eternal optimist. But there were a lot of people enjoying the balmy evening street life. ‘Are you sure Bil will be there?’ Katerina asked. Julia turned away from the window, back to the subdued oyster shade inside the car. Her friend was wearing a skintight black tube dress; a slash down the front was loosely laced up, showing the deep deft between her breasts. Brazen, but Julia was forced to admit she looked wonderful. Her hair was a fluffy gold cloud. ‘He was invited,’ Julia said tonelessly. Bil Yi Somanzer: the hottest, meanest rock and roller in the history of the world, ever. Even Kats would look ordinary around his groupies. She smiled in the shadows; Kats had only agreed to come after she’d promised her Bil would be there. ‘Well, Julie, dear, anyone can invite him. Having him turn up is different.’ ‘He’ll be there. Stars and the media, they need each other. Feed off each other. And media doesn’t come any bigger than Uncle Horace.’ Kats wasn’t convinced, fuchsia lips screwing up petulantly, but Adrian nudged her quiet. He was wearing a white jacket, black bow tie, a red rose tucked into his buttonhole. Stunningly handsome. And he’d silenced Kats from spouting off inanely because he knew she was still supposed to be shaken over Grandpa’s death. Her feelings mattered to him. The Rolls dipped down into the giant Castlewood condominiwn’s underground garage. Horace Jepson bad his own private park on the second level. Thick metal doors swung open as the chauffeur showed his card to the lock. Steven Welbourn and Rachel Griffith, Julia’s two bodyguards, hurried out of the trail car as the little convoy came to a halt. Both of them were wearing formal evening dress, Steven in a dinner jacket, Rachel in a long navy-blue gown. Their alert faces scanned the stark, brightly lit concrete cave. They needn’t have bothered, two of Horace’s own security staff were waiting for them. MIND$TAR RISING 115 There was a distinct air of farce about the entire scene. But Julia was careful not to show disapproval. Steven and Rachel were just doing their job, and she got on quite weli with them. Steven had been with her for years, almost since she came to Europe, a twenty-seven-year-old with sandy hair that she teased him was already thinning. He was sympathetic about her circumstances, and his discretion had been demonstrated time and again, considering the schoolgirl truancies which he could have told her grandfather about. Rachel had been with her for about a year; a twenty-two-year-old with neat close-cut mousy hair; she came across as a mix of big sister and maiden iunt. Courteous, but an absolute stickler for security protocol, liways checking the toilet cubicle first, which could get embar~assing. Of course, one day she might be very glad of them. besides, any complaints would find their way back to Morgan 1/4Valshaw. And then there’d be another bloody lecture. The five of them squeezed into the penthouse lift. Kats and adrian didn’t notice the press, lost in a private world of furtive ;mirks and hungry looks. Julia gritted her teeth. The lift opened straight into the vestibule of Horace Jepion’s suite. Music and conversation hit them as the doors slid apart. On her previous visits, the centre of the penthouse had been divided up into various function areas by hand-painted Japanese silk screens depicting scenes from mythological battles, samurai and improbable creatures. Now the screens bad all been folded back against the walls leaving one big open space. Coloured jelly-blobs of hologram light swam through the air, wobbling in time to a loud acid-thrash version of ‘Brown Sugar’. Bodies packed the black-tiled dance floor, a rainbow riot of frantic movement; older sweating men with younger energetic girls. More people lined the vestibule walls tinder the umbrella of fern fronds; drinking, chattering excitedly. She recognized a lot of faces from the channels. Trust Uncle Horace. There was nothing refined about this party, it was deliberate Dionysian overload without a refuge, forcing you to enjoy. She wondered if he’d have a topless model bursting out of a cake at some point. More than likely. horace Jepson broke free of the crowd, shooing away a girl 116 PITIR F. HAMILTON who had the glossy vibrancy and dazzling pout of a Playmate. He was smiling warmly at Julia. A genuine smile, she thought. Then it flickered slightly as he took her in, as though she’d come in the wrong sort of dress, or something. But she’d chosen a five-thousand-pound Dermani gown, pale pink silk with a mermaid-tail skirt; nothing like as tarty as the rest of the girls she could see, so that couldn’t be it. His smile had mellowed by the time he reached her. He took both her hands and gave her a demure peck on the cheek. It was almost saddening. He used to give her big bear hugs and a huge slobbery kiss. Funny, she’d always hated them at the time. Now they were a part of an old familiar world, lost and gone for good. ‘I was afraid you weren’t going to come,’ he said. ‘Try keeping me from a party.’ ‘That’s my gal. Say, look, I’m real sorry about Phil. One of the best, you know?’ Behavioural Response: Sorrow. She’d loaded the program in the processor node to remind her, keyed by any mention of Grandpa. For her to giggle at his name, at people’s earnest sympathy, would never do. ‘Thank you. Do something for me, Uncle Horace?’ ‘Sure, honey.’ ‘Don’t treat me like glass. I won’t break. And it only makes it worse.’ ‘Right.’ He grinned at Katerina and Adrian. ‘Come on in, you guys. We’re just getting warmed up. Plenty of action here tonight.’ Julia thought his glance hovered around Kats’ cleavage. Then he was looking over her shoulder at Steven and Rachel, a faintly puzzled expression on his face as Kats dragged Adrian past him into the throng. ‘No escort, Julia?’ “Fraid not.’ ‘Hell gal, why didn’t you let me know? Cindy could’ve fixed something up for you. That girl’s got a list of boys bigger than a census bureau.’ ‘Maybe next time.’ MINOSTAR RISING 117 ‘Damn, Clifford won’t be over before the weekend. He would’ve done, just fine. You met Cliff before? My boy? From my first marriage.’ ‘You’ve mentioned him,’ she said drily. Had the two of them walking down the aisle in his mind. ‘Oh well, let me introduce you to a few people. Hey, maybe I can have one dance. Make an old man happy.’ ‘I think your friend would scratch my eyes out first,’ she nodded at the Playmate girl. ‘Ouch, Julia. There’s a lot of Philip in you,’ he said admiringly. She quashed the laugh while it was still in her gullet. Sorrow. ‘Good. Because I’d like to do some business with you.’ Horace Jepson suddenly became wary. ‘Most of Globecast’s contracts with Event Horizon are pretty much cut and dried.’ ‘Well, not formal business. More a favour.’ ‘Go on.’ ‘There’s a programme I might want broadcasting. It’s important to me, Uncle Horace.’ ‘What sort of programme?’ he asked cautiously. ‘A planet-wide exposй. Every current-affairs channel Globe- cast owns.’ Now his face really fell. ‘Julia, honey, do you know the kind of legal angles on this? I mean, if you’re really hot on rubbishing someone, then hearsay ain’t no use.’ ‘I’ve got the proof. All we need.’ ‘Damn, but I wish you didn’t grow up so fast.’