Nemesis Read Online Free Page B

absurdly quaint in this day and age, Webb, but there is the small matter of one’s obligations to humanity.”
    “Hold on a minute. I went to Glen Etive for a reason.” He tapped his back pocket with the papers. “Listen. I’m on the verge of something. I think I can put some meat into general relativity. You know GR is just a phenomenology, it lacks a basis in physical theory, and that Sakharov conjectured . . .”
    The Astronomer Royal’s tone was icy. “You were instructed not to spend time on speculative theoretical exercises.”
    “I happen to be on leave, trying to do some real science for a change. You have a problem with an asteroid? Get someone else to look into it.”
    The Astronomer Royal took the pipe from his mouth, his face wrinkling with angry disbelief. He made to speak but Walkinshaw quickly raised his hand. “Please, Bertrand.” The civil servant lowered his head, as if in thought. Then he leaned forward, to be heard above the engine. “Doctor Webb, I apologize for the melodramatic descent from the skies, but the fact is that we are engaged in a race, with an asteroid, which we must not lose.” The helicopter was tilting and Webb gripped the table. He sensed that his face was grey. “TheAmericans are trying to put together a small team to look into this. They have specifically requested a British contribution. We do not know when impact will occur but it must be clear that time is vital. We must get you to New York instantly. As Sir Bertrand says, there is nobody else in this country.”
    The AR, at last, poured a black liquid into the plastic lid of the flask. Webb took it and sipped at the warm tea. His stomach was churning and he was beginning to feel nauseous. “Who diverted the asteroid?”
    The civil servant remained silent.
    “There’s some risk attached to this, right?” Webb peered closely at Walkinshaw, but the man had the eyes of a poker player.
    The AR turned to Walkinshaw. “A wasted journey,” he said contemptuously. “Turn the Sea King back. I’ll get Phippson at UCL.”
    “Phippson? That idiot?” Webb said in astonishment.
    The AR waited.
    “But the man’s a total incompetent.”
    The AR cleared his throat.
    “He couldn’t find the full moon on a dark night!”
    The AR stubbed the tobacco in his pipe, a smirk playing around his lips.
    “Damn you, Sir Bertrand,” Webb said.
    Sir Bertrand removed his pipe, exposed his teeth and emitted a series of loud staccato grunts, his shoulders heaving in rhythm. Webb was enveloped by a wave of nicotine-impregnated breath. He gulped the tea and handed the flask lid back to the Astronomer Royal, who was grinning triumphantly.
    Walkinshaw’s eyes half-closed with relief. “Very well. The country is grateful etcetera. Now the quickest route from here is the polar one. After this briefing—” Walkinshaw glanced at his watch “—which must end in four minutes, we will be dropped off on a quiet beach near the Cuillins. Youwill carry straight on to Reykjavik Airport. There you will board a British Airways flight to New York. It’s the quickest route we could devise from this Godforsaken land.”
    He pulled out a buff envelope from a briefcase. “Your ticket, some dollars, an American Express number on which you can draw, and a passport.”
    “How did you get my photograph?”
    “You would be amazed, and at four o’clock this morning. You are Mister Larry Fish, a goldsmith. A precaution in case unfriendly eyes are watching the movements of asteroid people. What do you know about gold, Webb?”
    The Sea King was sinking fast, and Webb’s stomach rose in his diaphragm.
    “Atomic number seventy-nine, isn’t it? The least reactive metal but alloys with mercury.”
    Walkinshaw assimilated this answer. Then he said in a toneless voice, “In no circumstances hold any sort of conversation with anyone en route.”
    “Unfriendly eyes,” Webb said. He felt almost paralysed with fear. “So there is some risk attached to