First Horseman, The Read Online Free PDF

out tomorrow.’
    Pierre put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. ‘Can’t you go faster?’
    ‘No,’ said Jim, ‘not yet.’
    Pierre groaned. ‘Jim, you’re so boring.’ He laughed. ‘But that’s OK.’
    ‘Thanks,’ said Jim.
    ‘I’ll probably be boring too when I’m old and twenty-five like you.’
    An image of Pierre at fifteen, in his worn green irregular army uniform, a battered Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder, flipped into Jim’s mind. Now the boy, once named Man Bites Dog, was just a teenager watching the world go by. Jim grinned. ‘Let’s hope so.’
    ‘So what’s happened to Jane? Please nothing bad.’
    ‘Nothing bad,’ said Jim.
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘Nothing bad.’
    ‘You can tell me, Jim.’
    Jim stamped on the accelerator and the Veyron shot forwards.
    ‘Whoah!’ said Pierre. ‘This is great!’
    Jim looked into his rear-view mirror. Was that the flash of a speed camera?

9
    A broad smile slowly spread over Professor Cardini’s face. He slapped the side of his right leg with his giant gnarled hand. ‘Ha.’ He laughed, in a single deep rumble. ‘Plucky,’ he said, raising a bushy eyebrow.

    Dear Kate,
    I appreciate your honesty in the matter. Over the years I, too, have had my reservations.
    If you can come to my office at eleven thirty tomorrow I have something I would like to share with you.
    I hope that will be a convenient time as my schedule is very tight.
    Sincerely,
    Cardini

    Kate sat in front of her Notebook, holding a cup of tomato soup, which she put down – she was worried that when she read Cardini’s email she might drop it.
    ‘Oh,’ she said. She sagged in her chair with relief. Thank goodness he’s cool, she thought. Perhaps he wasn’t such a horrible man, after all. She remembered the look he had given her as she’d left the laboratory and shivered, then picked up the soup and sipped.

    Dear Professor,
    See you at eleven thirty tomorrow.
    Kate

10
    Jim threw the presentation down in disgust on the distressed gilded-leather-covered desk top. He looked up at Stafford, his butler, who sat on a delicate eighteenth-century chair opposite him. ‘How can this be so hard?’ he said, his voice tinged with despair. ‘If I dig a well, people might get poisoned by arsenic in the ground water, or some local guy’ll start charging for access. If I hand over money to someone else to give away, they drive around in an SUV lording it over starving people. If I pay five hundred dollars to ten thousand families, the money leaks away, and before you know it, they’re depending on me to keep paying. What am I supposed to do? How can you give money away without polluting everything?’
    ‘As you say, it’s not easy,’ said Stafford, quietly.
    ‘Most of these projects,’ said Jim, springing up, ‘are just filling in for evil governments who go around stealing all their people’s stuff.’ He threw his hands into the air. ‘Rather than funding boatloads of food, I’d be better off sponsoring an invasion to kick bastards like that out.’
    ‘It’s been attempted,’ observed Stafford.
    ‘Well, I’m trying to give my money to charity, not start another United Nations.’
    ‘Quite.’
    ‘So what’s the answer?’ wailed Jim.
    ‘Determination?’ suggested Stafford, with a hint of irony.
    ‘Well, this thing tomorrow better not be another British middle-class lifestyle sponsorship plan playing at being a charity.’
    Stafford stiffened a little. ‘It’s a research group and it looks very interesting.’
    ‘Mosquitoes,’ growled Jim. ‘I hate them.’ Then he smiled. ‘If the professor drives a Merc, I’m not putting in a single penny.’
    ‘Professors are allowed nice cars, you know. You’re funding a scientist not a saint, are you not?’
    Jim wrinkled his nose, as if there were a very smelly piece of cheese under it.
    Stafford rose. ‘Would you like some lunch?’
    ‘It’s OK,’ said Jim. ‘I’m going out – I’m dying for a Big Mac.’
    Stafford tried