Burning Yves (Benedicts #2.5) Read Online Free Page A

trains were the first engines—you can tell by the vents and the size of the stations, giving room for the smoke and steam to escape.’
    ‘That’s cool.’ Victor’s eyes were taking in every detail. ‘Uriel would enjoy being here. You should tell him.’ Uriel would be able to see the trains if he touched the tiled walls. ‘When does this conference kick off?’
    ‘Later this afternoon. I’ll sleep, shower, change then head out for orientation. Then tomorrow I’ve chosen the trip to the Olympic Park to look at the practical implementation of some new materials in the construction and environmental landscaping.’
    ‘And here I was thinking the park was about sport,’ murmured Xav.
    Their apartment was near the top of one of the residential blocks linked by the concrete walkways of the Barbican. Short by New York or Chicago standards, it still gave the impression of soaring height thanks to its slender structure and the relative absence of other skyscrapers. Though it was called the Shakespeare Tower, Yves couldn’t imagine anything less like his idea of the playwright: too many hard edges and lacking in humanity.
    ‘OK, pick a bedroom. I’ve got a few calls to make,’ said Victor.
    Yves took one that looked east towards the Olympic Park and crashed out on the firm mattress. Waking from a deep sleep at three, he bagged first use of the bathroom. Dried off and freshly shaved, he stood looking into his suitcase wondering what he should wear. He picked a plain T-shirt and jeans, then worried that he should put on something more formal. He swapped the jeans for chinos.
    Xav walked in and flopped on the bed. ‘Problem?’
    ‘Do you think I look too, I dunno, geeky like this?’ Yves squinted at the mirror, trying to imagine how others would see him.
    ‘You are a geek, Yves.’
    ‘Thanks, Xav, that’s really helpful. I just want to look OK, you know?’
    ‘Haven’t you heard that geek is the new cool? Blessed are the geeks, for they shall inherit the earth.’
    ‘I’d prefer “intellectual” to “geek”.’ Yves scowled at his round glasses. Perhaps he should get contacts? It was OK for Xav with his natural dress sense and ease with himself. Yves just wasn’t so confident that he would pass inspection.
    ‘Blessed are the intellectuals—nope, doesn’t scan and is way too European a concept for me. If you start wearing one of those black turtleneck sweaters and speaking French, then I’m disowning you.’
    ‘That’s a bit of a 1950s cliché.’
    ‘I wouldn’t put it past you if you felt it would attract birds of a feather to flock together. Some girls really dig all that stuff.’
    ‘Just because the flight attendant gave me her number and not you.’
    ‘No accounting for taste.’
    ‘Yeah, some women have it and some go out with you.’
    Xav laughed, enjoying their verbal sparring. ‘You’d better run if you’re going to make the welcome party.’
    Yves grabbed a house key and his wallet. ‘Don’t wait up!’

 

     
     
    The minibus pulled up at the entrance of the Olympic Park, and the ten science-conference students who had signed up for the trip filed out. Yves was the last. Putting on his sunglasses, he stood for a moment taking in the vast stadium with its white superstructure and the red viewing tower a little further off by the railway line. The tower reminded him of the double helix model of DNA, which was apt: the successes that would come in and around the park were partly decided by genetic inheritance. Not that even Usain Bolt could do what he did without the hard graft of training and dedication, despite having some ancestor to thank for super long legs. Savants were the same: you could be born with a gift but you needed to hone it to make it effective and safe to use.
    ‘This place is amazing,’ said Ingrid, one of a pair of girls who had made an effort to get friendly with him the night before at the introductory party. He had been grateful to them for taking him under