Ray Sullivan publishes science based fiction adventures on Amazon, Smashwords, Apple iBookstore, Barnes & Noble, Sony, WH Smith and other good eBook retailers as e-books. Additionally all of his books are available in paperback on Amazon. He also muses on technology, posts comedic books in serial format and discusses the world of self publishing.
Books written by Ray Sullivan
Monday, 10 December 2012
Parallel Lives chapter 30
John did not, could not, remember the journey back to
Fylingdales, such was the degree of sedation. Ahead of the boxy military
ambulance drove Michael Watson in a nearly new Porsche, an investment he had
made following the death of his Grandmother and the resulting bequest. Not that
he couldn’t have afforded the machine without his inheritance, his position
within the Defence Technology Research Unit placed him amongst the higher
earners working for the Ministry of Defence. But Michael was cautious by
nature, and the Porsche was probably only the second major gamble he had ever
The first had been several years earlier, when he realised
that the Project had been making some fundamental errors in its assumptions.
With the main research left to wither, the principal players cast back into
mainstream medicine and research Michael had continued to probe and
hypothesise, linking his avid interest in medicine and particle physics with
his brilliant ability to analyse complex data effortlessly. He had approached
the DTRU unilaterally, had teased them with promises of making good the earlier
failed efforts, had managed to work his way up the echelons of decision makers
and fund managers as an explorer scales a densely wooded hillside in a jungle
to break out into the glorious and breathtaking heights where all can be seen.
With absolute clarity. That, above all, differentiated him from the other
players. They had promised benefits, but always added cautionary riders,
reiterated that it was all theoretical. Michael, having convinced himself,
proceeded to convince them.
And they had supported him, handsomely. The only bugbear in
his relationship with the DTRU was his ever watchful aide, Martin. The man was
clearly well educated and knowledgeable in many scientific areas, without
actually demonstrating mastery of any. But he wasn’t employed as a technical
specialist, his field was vaguer, much less tangible. He looked in rooms as he
passed, he always flipped books over to see what people were reading and he
tried to find out who Michael spoke to on the phone – every time. Michael
assumed his phone messages, both at work and away, were monitored anyway. He
also believed Martin contributed nothing to the project, but wielded immense
authority within the department, answerable to nobody on the immediate payroll.
But that was the price he had to pay for his research and
the facilities he had been afforded were unsurpassed, in the United Kingdom at
least. If the results of the next few days were as promising as the MRI scans
suggested, then he would be able to move Staples down to Hampshire, where they
resided. He might also be able to take Sam there as well. Michael had been
surprised at Sam’s reaction the other night, had decided that the man had lost
it. He had also been disappointed because he both liked and respected him. It
was Sam’s lateral style of thinking that had provided the first tangible
results all those years ago, and although they eventually were considered
inconclusive Michael had worked backwards from them to rediscover the better,
almost certainly correct methodology he was now proposing.
And Sam had stumbled across the most promising candidate
for years, that had to count for something. Michael had been astonished when
Martin not only failed to object to reconsidering Sam following Friday’s
fracas, but had volunteered to talk with him directly. Essentially a trusting
individual, Michael had agreed to the plan of attack, but deep down he felt it
was somehow wrong. He knew Sam had burned his bridges back on Friday and all
but the least impartial of spectators could possibly consider bringing him back
in. Michael considered himself amongst that rare group of optimistic
personalities, ever wanting to forgive. To find himself being agreed with by
the grey and impassive Martin was not a rational expectation.
Flicking his left wrist rapidly over he checked the time
and realised that he would be back at the medical centre a good two hours
before his ever watchful aide. If he couldn’t understand the man’s motives, he
could at least enjoy a few hours apart from him. Checking the rapidly
disappearing military vehicle in his rear view mirror, Michael floored the
accelerator and gasped as the green verges swept past.