Emprise by Michael P. Kube-McDowell Read Free Book Online Page B

you again.”
    “I’m not Penny,” the girl said haughtily. “That’s a stupid name.”
    Eddington blinked. “Have we changed our name, then?”
    “Yes. You can call me Agatha.”
    Eddington bit back a smile. “Reading a lot of mysteries,” Maggie had said. Too many! “Agatha. Well, Agatha, step inside.” When he tried to take her bags, she insisted on carrying the larger one. “I already put my bike in the carriage house,” she said proudly.
    “Yes, you’ll need that for going to school, won’t you? Have you decided what bedroom you’d like to sleep in this time?”
    Agatha considered—a slight, gawky child’s figure with the serious face of an adult. “Which is the one where Great-Aunt Liz murdered Uncle George?”
    This time the smile snuck past Eddington’s defences. “That’s the Garden Room—the big one at the top of the stairs.”
    “That’s right. That’s the one.” Taking her suitcase in hand, she struggled toward the stairs. Eddington followed with the other bag.
    Swinging the bags onto the bed raised a small cloud of dust, and Eddington met Agatha’s intense look with an apologetic shrug. “I have some people downstairs that I need to get back to. Is there anything you’ll need tonight—besides a dust rag?”
    “I’ll clean up tomorrow,” she said. “Go on—go back to your friends.”
    “All right.” He hesitated at the door. “You won’t bother us now, will you?”
    Her sigh was exasperated. “I’m not five, Dad.”
    “There’s a good girl. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left feeling awkward, as he usually did the first few days. Part of being a forty-four-year-old father to a twelve-year-old daughter, he supposed.
    Agatha set aside the two suitcases and flung the quilted comforter to the foot of the bed. When she unlatched the larger case, she revealed a jumble of books, for the most part paperbacks and generally worn in appearance. Pulling one out, she bounced onto the wide bed and snuggled back into the pillows.
    / like it here , she thought, surveying the room. So much history in old houses—and a murder, in this very room. Just a simple crime of passion, of course—but you never know what I might find elsewhere. To think that I’ve never really explored this house! Surrounding herself with pillows, she began to read. But after a few pages, she set the book aside. I wonder who’s downstairs? she thought.
    Retrieving a notebook and pen from her smaller case, Agatha made her way downstairs. She circled the dining hall, seeking a spot from which she could see and hear without being noticed. The library seemed to provide what she wanted; it shared a wall and a door with the dining hall, but most important, it shared a large heating vent. Seated on the floor at the grating, she could see the better part of the room.
    “Before we go any farther I want to hear that we are in agreement on this,” her father was saying. “That this is not a natural phenomenon—that it may not be meant for us, but that it is of intelligent origin. If you don’t believe that, I’m not sure you should be here.”
    “The strength and coherency of the signal weigh the strongest with me, not the pattern,” said the old man beside her father. “I’ve been at this longer than anyone here. In addition to every species of astronomical radio source, I’ve seen about every kind of transient interference and spurious transmission you can name. All I can say is that an artificial origin seems to make more sense than anything else, and I never thought I’d hear myself saying that. I can hardly believe I just did.”
    “I’m sure you have everyone else persuaded, Josef. Get me two hours with the Mark la at Jodrell, and I’ll let you know my judgment.” That was the round-shouldered little man. “But I’ll play along, for now.”
    “We had better hope it is deliberate, or we haven’t a ghost of a chance of divining its meaning,” interjected the woman at the far end of the