Inkers by Alex Rudall Read Free Book Online Page B

all, would be important enough to make his name. To grant him a kind of immortality, even. And because he had read too many stories of investors turning down opportunities at an early stage and missing out on billions.
    Hardwick had not gone to university, not even a poor one like this. It had seemed like a waste of time for him; he was not good enough at maths or science to do something technical, and he didn’t believe that a degree in business would help him. Experience had proved him right. Still, he didn’t mind working with the educated. They invented valuable things, and tended to be naïve and flexible at the negotiating table.
    They had contacted him. The email said the inventor, Lwazi, was a student, and he had developed a process and a prototype for detecting certain chemicals at distance. This in itself was not particularly interesting, but what had piqued Hardwick’s interest enough to make him take the meeting was the handwritten note that followed it. It had been delivered to Hardwick’s secretary first thing that morning by a fresh–faced young black man who was, probably, the inventor himself. The note had been written in handwriting so messy as to possibly have been deliberately messy; it said the inventor had developed a method for detecting chemicals with a nanotechnological component at a distance. Post–GSE, the word nanotechnological could mean just one thing: ink.
    Hardwick had checked with his most trusted lawyer in the vaguest possible terms. The lawyer had confirmed, in the vaguest possible terms, that there was nothing illegal or unethical about meeting with the boy on an informal basis, just as the note had suggested. The note had said the library at Walter Sisulu University. It had said six o'clock that evening. It had said to come alone. Hardwick was, as a rule, not used to going out of his office to meet investment opportunities, especially not students, particularly not outside working hours. Over a career of fifty years Hardwick had developed a profile as a savvy technology investor, willing to take on big risks and difficult, expensive projects. As a result, those looking for investment or expertise came to him, at his offices, during normal working hours, after successfully arranging an appointment. But Hardwick was interested and he knew his experience and skill should give him a major advantage in any negotiations. That was if he didn’t get jumped trying to get to the library.
    “Open up,” he said, and without sound the door slid up to let him out. He stepped out, said, ‘drive away if someone other than me comes near, but don’t go more than half a mile, and be ready to come back and get me as fast as possible if I call.”
    The big black car’s door slid shut without response.
    Hardwick crossed the car–park, umbrella in hand in case the rain started again. There was an expanse of grass ahead of him – he couldn’t see a path to the buildings, so he set off across the grass with a sigh. After a few steps he felt dampness start to set in around his ankles. A few steps later he half–fell into a dip, going down on one knee and a hand, pain shooting through his joints. He managed to stand again, swearing, sweating, breathing hard, and limped more carefully across the rest of the grass until he reached tarmac. There was a gap like a canyon between two of the high buildings, with a single streetlight picking out a vending machine, a closed door, a disabled access ramp. Out of the darkness a pair of female students trotted past, wearing hooded jackets and carrying backpacks, staring at him. Another tall, thin young man followed, walking slowly towards him, carrying a huge suitcase in one hand. He passed, watching Hardwick out of the side of his eyes.
    Once he was gone, Hardwick checked his watch —a green arrow pointed left up a ramp and into a large glass doorway, lit from the inside.
    “Hey, rich man. You lost?” The high–pitched voice came from close behind, and