Neurolink Read Online Free PDF

NP. Whatever. Dominic ground his teeth. He’d grown careless. He would never measure up to his father’s ideal. He might as well quit and let the NP have it all. Losing his position now could hardly make him feel worse.
    On the last step, he pivoted to gaze at the monolithic façade of ZahlenBank headquarters. “Good-bye to nothing,” he muttered under his breath. The dark granite edifice rose like a massive tombstone, eight hundred meters into the air. Its highest level brushed the underside of the clear dome that shielded Trondheim from the poisonous summer sky, and above the dome, obscured by smog, the needlelike executive spire pierced the very heavens.
    Dominic found himself beating the car’s roof with his fist. No, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk away. Too much was at stake. His screwup had put ZahlenBank at risk. After his father spent nearly three centuries building it, Dominic couldn’t let it fall. He had a duty to save it. He was an executive, born and bred.
    A chime sounded the change of shift, and the noise level rose. Up and down the street, protected employees erupted from office doors, and a river of pedestrians divided around Dominic and his car. Bodies bumped against him, and thousands of plastic boots slapped the pavement with a noise like thunder. The air stank of perspiration. Dominic took out a scented handkerchief to cover his nose.
    Looking up at the highest corner window, he made his decision. I’ll fix my mistake, whatever I have to do. After that, I’ll quit.
    “Son, you’re too bright to refuse my help.” The NP’s voice echoed through the financial district in a tone of fatherly pride. “Are we partners?”
    Dominic sealed himself inside the clean quiet seclusion of his car and answered with a single nod.
     
CHAPTER 3
----

ARBITRAGE
    TWENTY hours later, Dominic waited on a dead brown beach on the shore of the Arctic Ocean. Tepid surf lapped at the sand in a meringue of dingy foam. The summer sun never set here, but at this early hour, only a thin light filtered through the smog. Frayed scraps of plastic littered the sand, and a soot-gray drizzle fell. I’m not trained for this, he kept repeating to himself. I’m a banker.
    He felt claustrophobic and vaguely ridiculous in the full Kevlax surface suit he wore to seal out the toxic atmosphere. Elsa had helped him put it on. The suit belonged to his father. It was a high-performance sports model, silky and light, but Dominic wasn’t used to the way the helmet faceplate limited his view. He rarely wore surfsuits. He didn’t own one. Every breath of recycled air roared in his helmet like a wind.
    Major Qi Raoshu was late, blast the man’s soul. Dominic had never liked the surface. Too much space and no people. It made him edgy. He turned in slow circles, watching the misty horizon that was way too distant.
    “Status?” the NP asked. The digital genie had been checking in every few minutes, sounding as nervous as Dominic felt.
    “Still nothing,” Dominic whispered.
    He hated the NP’s imitation of his father’s voice—his own voice. Each word stung him like a tongue of flame, and he ached to shut off his earplug. But he couldn’t deny the value of the NP’s data. The genie gave him instant access to the Ark, with its almost limitless archives of data. Whenever he asked, the NP fed him market news and information about the Benthica . Dominic had memorized the submarine’s layout, and he would recognize the Net link on sight—an upright black box on a squat swiveling base, crowned by a silver disk two meters in diameter, tilted toward the heavens. As soon as he boarded the submarine, he had to find that link and disable it. Once the broadcast died, bank guards would extract him and arrest the miners. One quick in-and-out action. Two or three hours max.
    “The vulnerable point’s at the base,” the NP said. “Destroy the electronics—”
    “And the broadcast dies. I know.” As he watched the beach, he changed