The Goliath Stone by Larry Niven, Matthew Joseph Harrington Read Free Book Online

believed responsible for this year’s sudden halt in deaths from HIV infection, was assassinated with poison gas by agents of the United States government at his apartment in Bern, Switzerland, where he had fled to escape from the persecution of socialist elements at home.
Bern police were only able to identify Dr. Glyer from dental records, as the chlorine gas used made it impossible to distinguish his body from those of his four assailants, who seem to have been killed through their own carelessness. No other persons were killed, though a passerby, Frances Hill, was taken to the Bern Charity Clinic, where she was treated for trace gas exposure and released.
Dr. Glyer’s work in nanotechnology dated back before the launch of the Briareus probe in 2027 …
    “I wonder who the extra body was,” Toby said, alarmed.
    “I take it the AIDS business wasn’t you?” May said.
    “Didn’t even hear about it. I would have expected it to cause a huge fuss.”
    “It did. Don’t you watch the news?”
    “Ha-ha.” Toby got out the papers he’d been given at customs and checked the name. “Ambrose Hawking,” he said. “Okay, he’s lost me again.”
    “Merlin Ambrosius,” said May. “A merlin is a kind of hawk.”
    Toby closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, “He did this all the time, you know. Threw obscure references into the conversation for no reason. It was like he was holding auditions to see who was smart enough to be worth talking to.”
    “I gather you passed.”
    “Huh? Oh, because I talked with him often enough to notice?”
    “Well done,” she said.
    Toby looked at her suspiciously. After a moment she couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. Toby just shook his head and said, “Let’s find our driver.”
    A petite woman in a chauffeur’s outfit, who looked like an Indian, and had breasts large enough to be funny (bordering on alarming), was holding up a card that read TRIFFID .
    May’s face might have been carved from stone. “That’s us.”
    “I know. You don’t get used to it.”
    “I really, really hate that book.” She had had to listen to jokes about John Wyndham’s best-known work all her life.
    “Welcome to The Connors Experience.”
    The woman greeted them with, “Cristina Gomez. Shall I take you directly to the Village?”
    Toby leapt off the ground when May suddenly shouted, “When will it end?” She returned his wide-eyed stare with a glare and added, “Be seeing you,” she said.
    “Oh, good grief,” he said, and hove a great sigh. “Ms. Gomez, I take it our cottage is in the Olympic Village?”
    “Just outside, sir,” she said, watching May unobtrusively.
    “Fine, please take us there.”
    “Is the man who gave you that card to hold up going to be there?” May said.
    “I don’t know, miss. I got the assignment on the phone.”
    May grumbled and followed her to the car.
    The car cheered her up. It was an Andes Motors Condor, with most of the rear seats cleared out and a divider added to turn it into a limo. A lot of Lockheed ex-employees had worked for Wyndham for a while, then had time on their hands. Until somebody finally finished the century-long trip “just around the corner” and got fusion to work, it was the cleanest, most efficient car that it was possible to build. Since a small car couldn’t hold the three turbines needed to make it work, it was also large, and that was the reason given for its being banned in the EU and north of the Rio Grande. The additional details that it was stainless steel, never rusting out, and built almost entirely by automation, with no closed-shop unions involved, were never mentioned … and if you did a Web search in those regions, neither was Andes Motors, unless you had an unlicensed satellite link and connected to Lilith.
    May settled in, relaxed, and tapped the intercom as the car moved out toward the Olympic Highway. “Sorry I startled you,” she said. “Been a weird day.” As they turned to