‘Is there a point of contention?’ Lisa Collier asked. Greg and Langley both looked at Jon Nevin. The detective gave the cybofax screen one last scan, then snapped the unit shut. ‘No.’ M aybe it was the rain, a relentless heavy downpour, which had cleared the reporters from the pavement outside the police station, or maybe the prospect of incurring Julia’s wrath had put the fear of God into them. Whatever the reason, when Greg drove out of the station gates late on Thesday afternoon, there was only a handful of camera operators in plastic cagoules left to watch him go. ‘Thank heavens for that,’ Eleanor muttered beside him. ‘I thought they’d put down roots.’ He turned up Church Street, and flicked on the headlights. The sun hadn’t quite set, but the solid clouds bad smothered Oakhain in a grey penumbra. Raindrops emitted a wan yellow twinkle as they slashed through the beams. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘You had a word with Julia, then?’ ‘Absolutely. You know, it’s still hard to associate the girl we know with this demon-machinator bilhionairess all the channels carp on about. I mean, the Prime Minister couldn’t call off reporters like this. They’d all race up to the top of the nearest hill and start screziming about oppression and press freedom.’ ‘No messing. But then Marchant doesn’t own the launch facilities which boost the broadcast satellite platforms into geosync orbit.’ ‘There is that.’ Greg glanced over at Cutts Close; lights were shining in all the caravans, dark figures shuffled across the grass. They hadn’t actually retreated then, just regrouped ready for tomorrow. He nudged the EMC Ranger up to thirty-five kilometres an hour. The rain had driven most of the traffic off the roads, leaving a few cyclists pedalling home, faces screwed up against the spray. His neurohormone hangover was ebbing, it wasn’t as if he had to strain for the interviews. The Launde CHAPTER TEN A QUANTUM MURDER 159 students had been co-operative, a welcome change from the hideously antagonistic mullahs in Thrkey. ‘What did Julia say about analysing the themed neurohormones?’ he asked. ‘No problem, we should have the answer some time tomorrow. The courier came and picked the ampoules up while you were doing the interviews.’ Eleanor gazed blankly at the deserted stalls in the market square. It was the empty expression she used whenever she was more irritated than •she wanted to admit. ‘I had to threaten to call the Home Office for clearance before he authorized their release.’ ‘Who, Denzil?’ ‘No, one of the detectives in the CU) office.’ ‘Oh. Tell you, I think Vernon is softening, and Jon Nevin isn’t far behind.’ ‘Great.’ The tone was biting. ‘Nothing pleasant in life ever comes cheap.’ She let her head loll back on the support cushioning. ‘No. As you always tell me. So how did you get on with the students? Are they all innocent?’ He grinned at the double meaning. ‘I’m pretty certain none of them killed Kitchener. Although God knows enough of them had the motive. He’s actually slept with all of the girls.’ Eleanor gave him a sideways look. ‘All of them?’ ‘Yeah. Sixty-seven years old; now that’s the way I’d like to go.’ ‘Humm.’ Her lips pouted disapprovingly. ‘Which of the students had a motive?’ ‘Isabel Spalvas. She wasn’t actually sleeping with Kitchener against her will, but it’s bloody close. Nicholas Beswick. I feel kind of sorry for him. Nice kid, but a bit naпve, head in the clouds type; you know, bright and stupid at the same time. He’s head over heels in love with Isabel, although I doubt he’s even kissed her yet, they’re certainly not lovers. Finding her with Kitchener that night was a monumental shock, but he adored the old man too. Un Pabari might have had a motive if he’d known Liz Foxton had slept with Kitchener.’ PETER F. HAMILTON 160 ‘But he didn’t know?’ ‘I didn’t ask him; I’ll have to check.’ Greg sagged mentally at the prospect. ‘And if he didn’t know, he will after that kind of leading question. Bugger.’ ‘I thought you said none of the students did it. What’s the point of asking Un about that?’ ‘Psi isn’t an exact science. I can’t get up in court and give absolutes, you know that, and I’m bloody sure the lawyers do. All I can ever say is that I haven’t perceived them giving me false answers. But suppose somebody had an overwhelming motive to kill Kitchener, they might just be able to conceal their guilt from me, because they don’t feel any. Certainly not if I ask them directly. So I creep up on the fact, by checking the peripheries. They can’t lie about everything and get away with it, I’ll catch them eventually.’ ‘OK, so are there any other students who have a plausible motive?’ He kept his eyes firmly on the road. ‘One. It’s a possible money motive. That belongs to our Miss Rosette Harding-Clarke. Although if anyone at Launde Abbey was due to be murdered, I would have put money on it being her.’ Eleanor perked up. ‘This sounds interesting, especially with the way you’re trying to crush the steering-wheel.’ ‘Yeah, well maybe I’m imagining it’s her neck. Jesus, Eleanor, you’ve got to meet her to disbelieve her. Tell you, how she survived life this long with that attitude of hers is a bloody mystery to me. I felt like giving her a damn good smack, but she’d probably only enjoy it.’ He tried to halt that line of thought. No personal involvement; the first law. Although how anybody could view Rosette dispassionately was beyond him. ‘But I thought Rosette Harding-Clarke was the rich one,’ Eleanor said. ‘Yeah, so she claims. She is also the pregnant one.’ ‘Pregnant?’ He smiled at the surprise in her voice. ‘That’s right. And the kid is Kitchener’s, or at least she claims it is. And she believes it too, which makes inc inclined to believe her. So A QUANTUM MURDER 161 the first thing I want you to check out tomorrow morning is whether Rosette really is as rich as she says she is. A lot of these so-called aristocrats are worse off than people drawing the dole. And we’ll need a legal opinion as well, will the kid stand to inherit anything even though it’s not mentioned in the will? Rosette says she won’t contest it, but I would have thought the executors have some sort of obligation to provide for the child.’ ‘Right.’ Eleanor pulled her cybofax out, and loaded the order into it.