The Lucifer Code Read Online Free PDF Page B

one contained a touch-sensitive control pad, the other a set of numerical keys. She pressed a button on the control pad and a display screen rose from the centre hinge. Just as she was about to check her e-mail and phone messages she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her and a hushed: 'Wow.'
    Turning, she saw a small boy leaning over the divan behind hers, peering over her shoulder. He had spiky fair hair, an open, expressive face, and huge grey eyes that gazed at the state-of-the-art soft-screen of her communicator. A woman, too old to be his mother, sat beside him reading a magazine.
    'Is that yours?' he asked, resting a small hand on her shoulder and wriggling up the back of his seat for a better look.
    She smiled at him. 'Yup.'
    'I haven't seen one like that before.'
    'It's new'
    'Where did you get it?'
    'I made it.' She corrected herself. 'Rather, my company made it.'
    The boy looked at her hard and then asked, seriously, 'Are you a genius?'
    Another laugh. 'No.'
    'My uncle's a genius,' he said matter-of-factly.
    'Oh, I'm impressed. What's your name?'
    'Jake.'
    'Hi, Jake, I'm Amber.'
    He flashed her a wide smile. 'What can it do?' he asked.
    'Lots of things. Make calls, send e-mails, do computing stuff, check the weather forecast, sports results . . .'
    'Can it play games?'
    'You betcha.'
    'Can it give football scores?'
    'Sure,' she said, racking her brains. Sport was a black hole as far as she was concerned. Back home she followed the Forty Niners American football team but only because Optrix sponsored them. 'Who are you a fan of?'
    'Man U, of course,' he said, as if only a fool would support any other team. 'I love football.'
    'I bet you're pretty good at it too.'
    'I'm not so good any more, but I'm getting better again.'
    There was something about the way he said it that gave her pause.
    'Dr Grant.' Looking up, Amber saw that the nurse with the clipboard had returned. 'If you'll follow me I'll take you straight through to the Think Tank. If you need the bathroom or a glass of water, please let me know. We can fill in the admission forms later.'
    'Gotta go, Jake,' she said, and stood up to follow the nurse.
    When she was on her feet she turned and looked down at the boy. Then she saw why he wasn't so good at soccer any more. She felt a pang - she understood what it was like to be a kid who looked different, but she kept the pity from her face and bent to shake his hand. 'Pleasure meeting you, Jake. Good luck with Man U.'
    'Bye-bye, Amber,' he said, with a grin.
    The nurse led Amber to the east wing, down a long corridor to the Think Tank, then ushered her into a small chamber next door that contained a desk, a Lucifer optical computer, two chairs and a bank of monitors. A glass window looked into the Think Tank and she assumed that this was an observation room. The nurse poured her some water and left.
    Sitting on a soft chair away from the desk, Amber glanced around the room. On one wall there was a corkboard. Pinned to it were what appeared to be thank-you postcards and photographs of patients and staff. One caught her eye: it showed two tanned men in full climbing gear, standing on a white mountain peak against a sky of the most brilliant blue. Similar enough to be brothers, they held their hands aloft in triumph.
    Then she caught sight of her reflection in the observation window. She looked pale and drawn. Unconsciously she brushed back her hair, exposing the left side of her face and the thin silver scar running from her temple into her hairline. Now it was apparent that she had no left ear, highlighted by the striking jade and gold earring on her right lobe. She had persistently refused plastic surgery: to eradicate any trace of her childhood operation would somehow be an act of betrayal, she believed.
    'Dr Grant? Miles Fleming.'
    As he entered the room, she caught herself smoothing her skirt and patting her hair. She recognized him immediately as one of the men in the photograph. He wasn't what she had been