Double Death

By Drew Herdman

Yes, it is possible to die twice. A hologram created to do good after its inventor's death turns paranoid about its existence and goes on a rampage of terror. Can it be stopped before it causes a nuclear disaster? Many twists, lies and deceit in high places, an exhumation and several lurid deaths occur before the final confrontation. The fate of millions lies in the hands of the creator's son.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Herdman
• Release date: Jan 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452315447

Drew Herdman

Several years ago my grandson asked me to tell him a story. This I did and it started a long adventure story. One day my daughter, listening unseen, later suggested that it would be a good idea if I wrote these adventures down. In her opinion, as an English teacher, they were better than most of the literature she encountered in her profession.This I duly did and since then the writing bug has never let me stop writing. To date I have written two complete novels, both thrillers, one for adults and one for children and have nearly finished a third adult novel. Also, I have produced short stories, audio plays, poetry and videos, to name a few.I spent most of my working life in engineering in Liverpool. When I retired I returned to live on the Isle of Man after spending my childhood here. I now have the free time to follow all of my hobbies, which include photography, playing the keyboard, boating, and computers, in addition to writing.

Book preview

DOUBLE DEATH

Drew Herdman

Smashwords edition at Smashwords

Copyright Drew Herdman 2010

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

PROLOGUE

Nobody really paid much attention to the tall angular man who walked slowly down Harley Street that late spring morning of April 2032. Of those that did, the men only noticed the set of the face which gave an air of intense concentration on the job in hand. Women, however, saw the full head of hair, greying slightly at the temples, the boyish twist to the slim lipped mouth, and the bright blue eyes.

His name, Andrew Walker; he worked for the government in a very restricted computer research laboratory, located on the outskirts of Harrow. His assignment... To finally solve the puzzle of full Artificial Intelligence. He was so near......

He walked slowly along, checking each house number. The sun warmed his back as he mounted the three stone steps that led up to a highly glossed door. Satisfied, he turned to press the polished bell. He hesitated. Would this appointment resolve the problem of his persistent cough and the racking pain that always accompanied it? Was it the cancer he had feared for so long........?

Part 1.

Chapter 1.

Walking down the street, his mind drifted back to his office a few days earlier. His long time friend, Charles Gardner, a short thin lanky person of unlimited energy, had come into the room, picked up the full ashtray, then held it out accusingly.

Andrew, you’re a bloody idiot. You persist in smoking even though you are driving us all nuts with your coughing, I think you should consider us other poor mortals, so go and see the doctor."

Andrew, with a wry smile gasped You, if anyone, knows the reason for not going. You know how our slave driving lord and master Sir Archibald Hemmings has been pushing for a result with the Brain. All I need is a few weeks more and I'll have it done. I promise I'll see him then.

Sorry Charles broke in I appreciate that the 'Old Bastard' flaunting his Golf Club Tie, and his Aston Martin, is a true blue turd, but we can't have you of all people collapsing on us now. If you're right, and this is no more than a cough, then the doc’ will confirm it, but if there is an underlying problem, it must be addressed now. Sit there and I'll make a quick phone call to our resident doctor upstairs, and have him see you now.

Andrew tried to rise from his chair but was gently pushed back.

I told you I'd go later.

Tell that to the Marines. If I let you do that, you'll never go.

Resignedly Andrew shook his head, and with an exasperated sigh, relaxed.

Charles picked up the phone, jiggled the rest a few times until the switchboard operator answered.

Hello. Gardner, computer section. Can you put me through to the Company Doctor? Please. I have a rather urgent case for him to look at.

Andrew, still relaxed in his chair, clearly heard the operator say 'Hold' and after a few seconds.

Doctor McPherson here.

This is the computer section, Doctor. Charles replied diffidently. I appreciate the lack of warning about this, but I have an urgent customer for you, our computer wizard, Andrew Walker. May I send him up to you now, as he's driving us insane with his constant coughing. Charles tilted the receiver away from his ear, so that Andrew could hear the reply. Very well, send him up right away. I’ll expect him within the next few minutes. With that the line went dead. Good grief. Who rattled his cage? However, get yourself up there now, and I'll see you later. O. K?

Andrew stood slowly, a wan smile on his pale face; and with a brief over the shoulder wave of resignation, left the room. Charles watched him go, then slipped into the recently vacated chair. He studied the forgotten glowing screen on the console for a few seconds that Andrew had been working on. In his minds eye he saw a bright red vintage Porche convertible, the hood down, the sun shining, a beautiful long legged blonde, hair streaming in the wind, mini skirt riding high, moist lips parted. As she turned to him he saw vividly the invitation in her gleaming eyes. His left hand reached out to caress the silk skinned thigh. All this would be his soon. All he needed was a copy of Andrew's latest work. His contact in America would pay more than well for a disc with this information on it. Charles was working on the framework that would accommodate the brain. His work had been running some way behind schedule, and he had felt the first chill breath of warning about his future in the department. It was then, when at his most vulnerable, he had been persuaded to part with some classified information. Given the choice of exposure or riches Charles had become a willing pawn in the dark and dangerous game of Industrial Espionage. So now it was every man for himself. His conscience did not trouble as he pulled a blank formatted rewritable very high density CD disc, now capable of holding many Gigabytes of memory from his pocket, more than enough to hold Andrew’s latest work, and was about to slip it into the CD ROM drive, when his daydream was shattered by the angry female voice that rasped close by his ear. What do you think you're doing?

The voice belonged to Andrews' secretary. By name of Janice, it had been the butt of many nasty and sly comments that the last three letters of her name denoted her character, and hence her unmarried status. She fussed over him, and woe betide anyone she felt was trying to take advantage of him, and she hated Charles.

He turned, holding up his free hand to stop her developing her theme.

Hold on, Janice, I’m only helping Andrew. In fact you should have done exactly as I have, and chased that idiot to the doctor. Couldn't you see how ill he is? So don't YOU lecture ME. It was only concern that brought me in here anyway.

Having distracted her, he turned away, slipping the disc into his pocket, and with a forehead slightly beaded with a thin film of sweat stalked out.

Andrew had walked from the computer room, along the corridor past the communal secretary’s office, hardly hearing the clatter of keyboards and printers in the typist’s pool, and on to the stairwell where the lifts whined up and down. He pressed the call button, and within a few seconds the arrival bell pinged, and the doors slid open. Stepping inside he pushed the button for the fourth floor, where he stepped out into unfamiliar territory. Opposite, an illuminated sign pointed the way to the Medical Centre.

Once there, he opened the door. The receptionist looked up, smiling. Come in Mr Walker, doctor is expecting you, so please go right in. . Andrew took a deep breath.

The doctor, a rather rotund balding middle aged man dressed in a check shirt, covered by a tight crumpled white coat, was seated behind a desk. Looking up, he regarded Andrew over a pair of reading glasses. He held Andrew's gaze with a pair of startling blue eyes. What can I do for you? He asked belligerently. I hope I do not see a two legged malingerer in front of me. I have enough trouble with the four-legged sort.

Andrew, already short tempered, snapped Doctor, I have more important things to do than stand here and be insulted by a person who thinks more of horses than he does of people. I was persuaded to come and see you against my better judgement, so if this is all you have to say to me I'll be on my way and leave you to your obviously more important work. I hope the horses appreciate you more than I do.

He turned on his heel to leave the room, but the effort of the last few angry words caused a fit of coughing. He caught the side of the desk, and hung there until the spasm passed. As the racking cough subsided he reached into his pocket and dragged out a handkerchief, the final spasm ending in it. As he lowered it they both saw the bright spots of red blood. As he hesitated, the doctor reached out a long arm and gently took hold of Andrew's wrist. As he stood, his face changed from belligerence to concern.

Let me see that.

It's nothing

Who is the doctor here? You may be the computer wizard, but now you come under my care. So sit down again and prepare to undergo the most thorough examination you have ever had. I appreciate that you are very valuable to the government, so let's get to the bottom of this problem as soon as possible.

Andrew subsided into the chair, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him. It was a good hour later when he left. In his pocket was a referral to a specialist hospital, and an appointment for the next day. Rather anxiously he had arrived and was soon X-rayed, blood and biopsy samples taken, every orifice examined, urine sample required, E E G, and E C G traces made, plus several other tests that he had never seen, and had then driven slowly back to work, his mind in a turmoil, full of foreboding one minute and relief the next. Unable to concentrate on his work, he left the building, managing to avoid Charles. Driving home, he decided not to tell his wife Susan, as he knew from past experience that she was the worlds worst worrier.

When she saw him, she remarked how drawn he looked, but he manage to shrug it off with a sarcastic remark about ‘OB' and how hard he was driving them. He assured her that as soon as the pressure was off, they would take a long overdue holiday. During the evening he noticed several times her slightly concerned glances, and it was only when they lay quietly in their wide bed that he felt her relax. Soon she was asleep, and as he himself drifted between awareness and sleep he thought how lucky he had been meeting her all those years ago. He remembered how, from their first meeting, she had never gone out with another man. She had told him that she would never change, and she never had. True, she left all outside matters to him, but she had run the house with an ability that left him amazed. He knew himself to be very lax in that department, his mind always full of the next days work. He thought also of their son Anthony, now a computer programmer in his own right. Pity he was a little unsure of himself. At that point, dreamless sleep overtook him.

Next morning in work, to take his mind off what the doctors might have found he decided to revue his latest programming files. His brief was to construct the circuitry for a brain, which could have artificial intelligence, in that it would always absorb knowledge in whatever form it might take. So an empty brain could be trained by simply feeding in the relevant textbooks on any subject, and there would be a ready-made expert in any field that was required. This was the long sought after Neural Net, which had a form of pseudo life, and was capable of self-analysis and repair.

Secretly, to test his theories in practice, he had written a programme to create a hologram. Vanity had made him create the face in his own image. Weeks had been spent in filling every available memory bank with basic information, from pre-school lessons to post graduate level. Now the hologram had the ability to talk on most subjects, to scan new books in seconds, and to suggest improvements to itself. It was also true that the hologram had not been seen by anyone but Andrew, and he only worked on it at night behind securely locked doors. Again, his vanity had driven him to aim for total surprise amongst his peers, which the completed work would bring. A slight sense of revenge for all the pressure that the 'OB' had put them under would be more than repaid when the hologram was unveiled. The completed brain could then be constructed, and fitted to any robotic body.

He was in this rather pleasant mood when the intercom chirrped. It was Janice.

I have the doctor for you. a pause, then. I want you to go and see a very good friend of mine in Harley Street. There are some points I want cleared up, and he is the man to do it. I have made an appointment for you for tomorrow morning. Your secretary has all the details, check with her. The phone was replaced before Andrew could say anything. Unbidden, foreboding swarmed in his mind. It was still there when at the appointed time he raised his finger to push the bell of the surgery. A few seconds passed, the door opened.

The vision that stood there left him tongue-tied. She was tall and slender, her dark hair glossy and shining, fell to her shoulders in waves, framing an unblemished skin that glowed with an inner fire. The pert nose topped a pair of beautifully sculptured lips smiling to reveal perfect teeth. The eyes, green, flecked with gold held his. One eyebrow raised enquiringly, the husky voice asked, It is Mr Walker? He could only nod. She turned, Andrew trailing behind. She opened a door to one side, stepped back and gestured for him to enter. Please wait in here, Mr Stuart will see you quite soon.

The door closed soundlessly. He looked round the room. The carpet was thick and lush, the chairs all-leather and inviting.

Discrete lighting cast a shadowless aura, and hidden speakers softly invaded the space with quadraphonic music. Andrew thought that if there was any way to put the clients at ease, this was it. He slumped into the nearest chair and picked up a magazine. He had hardly settled when he heard an intercom buzz, and the receptionist say. Yes Mr Stuart. He is here. I'll send him in immediately. The intercom clicked off. A few seconds later the door opened and vision reappeared. Again the captivating smile. Mr Stuart will see you now. Please come this way.

The carpet made no noise as they walked down the hall. Deep pile smothering their footsteps. Vision opened the door, glanced into the room. Mr Walker to see you, .

Andrew brushed rather ineffectually at some cigarette ash on his jacket, and went in.