everyone’s sake.’
‘So do I,’ said Cardini.
Jim’s eye was itching again, as if little needles were working under his skin. He put his fingers to the bruise and touched it gently. The skin was soft and smooth. He rubbed it carefully – surely ten minutes had passed.
‘I think,’ said Cardini, as they walked down the stairs, ‘you should consider our mosquito project. Here, at least, we kill only vermin for the sake of human life.’
When Cardini looked at him, a flicker of what Jim interpreted as contempt showed in his eyes. ‘Are you having a pop at me?’ he wondered.
‘Yes,’ said Cardini. ‘I probably am.’
‘What’s probability got to do with it?’
‘Very little,’ he said, sighing.
‘I know you mean well,’ said Jim, following him down the bare concrete stairs, ‘but I’ve got to be honest. Chopping a poor monkey’s arm off so you can get him to move it by Wi-Fi makes me feel kind of sick.’
‘I know,’ said Cardini. ‘But you have a purity that only youth can afford. If you were lying paralysed in bed covered with bedsores, how many monkeys would you want to die for you?’
Jim stopped. ‘Loads,’ he said, ‘but that wouldn’t make it right.’
Cardini continued on his way down the stairs. At the bottom, he said, ‘Well, Jim, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. It’s not often I meet someone so young and full of life and righteousness. My normal donor shakes in his boots at the thought of his moment of judgement or his approaching oblivion.’
Jim had no idea what he meant. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Well, thanks for having me.’
‘I hope you’ll consider what we’re doing here in a broad context and forgive some of the harshness you’ve seen.’
‘I understand what you’re trying to do, Professor, but I still feel sorry for the rats and that monkey.’ He grimaced. ‘And for all the other poor bloody monkeys I didn’t see.’
Cardini didn’t respond but Jim felt his disdain.
‘Well,’ said Cardini, eventually, ‘I wish you good day, and if you should want to help us, I’m sure history will be very grateful.’ He held out his hand, took Jim’s, dwarfing it, and shook.
There was movement high above and Jim glanced up to see Renton looking down from the landing. Jim’s eyes narrowed. Cardini and Renton were a creepy pair.
He went out into the daylight, got into the Veyron, opened his iPad and logged on to the markets. He felt like a retired sportsman checking on the next generation of players battling away in a never-ending round of tournaments. He couldn’t let the markets go: he was a junkie for the game he’d been forced to give up.
When he looked up, Kate was walking towards the car and the lab beyond. He lowered the window and stuck his head out. ‘Hi,’ he called.
She veered towards him. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘I’d offer to take you to lunch but you just ate.’
‘I didn’t actually,’ she said, resignedly. ‘I was just making excuses.’
‘Do you fancy lunch, then?’
She hesitated.
‘OK, I can hang about waiting for you now as a punishment.’ He grinned.
She tossed her head. ‘OK, then, but if you get fed up, just go.’
‘Deal.’
16
Jim was flipping through the financial charts on his iPhone. The Dow was going to open up and stay strong all day. The dollar would keep slipping, and by the end of the week it would be down about two per cent against most of the major currencies.
To him financial charts told a story not just of the past but of the future. It was a skill that legions of traders tried to develop. The successful analysis of financial charts was meant to be the key to untold wealth, but it seemed that only Jim had mastered the art. While other traders pored over their charts hoping for a hint of what was to come, Jim could read the outcome as if it was printed in bold. His clairvoyance had made him his fortune, a sum so great that he didn’t even know exactly how much he was worth. He was so rich that the
‘So do I,’ said Cardini.
Jim’s eye was itching again, as if little needles were working under his skin. He put his fingers to the bruise and touched it gently. The skin was soft and smooth. He rubbed it carefully – surely ten minutes had passed.
‘I think,’ said Cardini, as they walked down the stairs, ‘you should consider our mosquito project. Here, at least, we kill only vermin for the sake of human life.’
When Cardini looked at him, a flicker of what Jim interpreted as contempt showed in his eyes. ‘Are you having a pop at me?’ he wondered.
‘Yes,’ said Cardini. ‘I probably am.’
‘What’s probability got to do with it?’
‘Very little,’ he said, sighing.
‘I know you mean well,’ said Jim, following him down the bare concrete stairs, ‘but I’ve got to be honest. Chopping a poor monkey’s arm off so you can get him to move it by Wi-Fi makes me feel kind of sick.’
‘I know,’ said Cardini. ‘But you have a purity that only youth can afford. If you were lying paralysed in bed covered with bedsores, how many monkeys would you want to die for you?’
Jim stopped. ‘Loads,’ he said, ‘but that wouldn’t make it right.’
Cardini continued on his way down the stairs. At the bottom, he said, ‘Well, Jim, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. It’s not often I meet someone so young and full of life and righteousness. My normal donor shakes in his boots at the thought of his moment of judgement or his approaching oblivion.’
Jim had no idea what he meant. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Well, thanks for having me.’
‘I hope you’ll consider what we’re doing here in a broad context and forgive some of the harshness you’ve seen.’
‘I understand what you’re trying to do, Professor, but I still feel sorry for the rats and that monkey.’ He grimaced. ‘And for all the other poor bloody monkeys I didn’t see.’
Cardini didn’t respond but Jim felt his disdain.
‘Well,’ said Cardini, eventually, ‘I wish you good day, and if you should want to help us, I’m sure history will be very grateful.’ He held out his hand, took Jim’s, dwarfing it, and shook.
There was movement high above and Jim glanced up to see Renton looking down from the landing. Jim’s eyes narrowed. Cardini and Renton were a creepy pair.
He went out into the daylight, got into the Veyron, opened his iPad and logged on to the markets. He felt like a retired sportsman checking on the next generation of players battling away in a never-ending round of tournaments. He couldn’t let the markets go: he was a junkie for the game he’d been forced to give up.
When he looked up, Kate was walking towards the car and the lab beyond. He lowered the window and stuck his head out. ‘Hi,’ he called.
She veered towards him. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘I’d offer to take you to lunch but you just ate.’
‘I didn’t actually,’ she said, resignedly. ‘I was just making excuses.’
‘Do you fancy lunch, then?’
She hesitated.
‘OK, I can hang about waiting for you now as a punishment.’ He grinned.
She tossed her head. ‘OK, then, but if you get fed up, just go.’
‘Deal.’
16
Jim was flipping through the financial charts on his iPhone. The Dow was going to open up and stay strong all day. The dollar would keep slipping, and by the end of the week it would be down about two per cent against most of the major currencies.
To him financial charts told a story not just of the past but of the future. It was a skill that legions of traders tried to develop. The successful analysis of financial charts was meant to be the key to untold wealth, but it seemed that only Jim had mastered the art. While other traders pored over their charts hoping for a hint of what was to come, Jim could read the outcome as if it was printed in bold. His clairvoyance had made him his fortune, a sum so great that he didn’t even know exactly how much he was worth. He was so rich that the
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