The Twins Paradox - Alan Gasparutti (top ten books of all time txt) 📗

him off? If the cops find your fingerprints on the assassin’s clothes, you could be in trouble.”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that,” said Arthur. “I had to use my force.”
“I thought I instructed everyone here not to use the force, unless in a very special emergency,” Henry said to him.
“This was an emergency,” said Arthur. “The person who was to be assassinated was the former Astronomer-in-Chief at NASA.”
“Was he a friend that you made over there, this former Astronomer-in-Chief at NASA?” asked Henry.
“You could say that,” was Arthur’s reply. “In actual fact, he was the chief at NASA when that space craft came to destroy the Interstellar Pilgrim.”
“So what did you find out about that spacecraft, the shuttle, I believe,” queried Henry.
“Well, he was basically acting on instructions from above,” Arthur pointed out.
“From the president, you mean?” an ever-more interested Henry queried.
“Yes, basically, and from the Secretary for Defence,” said Arthur. “What’s more, the chap was rather suspicious of the ‘pilgrim. He had received reports that it had been travelling at over 1 million miles per hour, and had been checking it’s course since the pilgrim entered the inner solar system.”
“Did you find out much more from this chap?” asked Henry.
“Oh quite a bit more, actually,” Arthur told him. “I’m afraid I haven’t much credit on my mobile, so I’ll have to tell you all of this another time.”
“Oh? Like when?” asked Henry.
“Well, I’m hoping to come along and visit you all next weekend,” said Arthur. “I can tell you everything then. Oh, and I may have some business coming your way.”
“What sort of business?” asked Henry.
“About your motor manufacturing business,” said Arthur. “You are still continuing with the business, I presume?”
“Of course,” replied Henry.
“How is the business coming along, by the way?” asked Arthur.
“Not too bad,” Henry told him. “We are getting a few inquiries each week, which are steadily increasing. We may be on a special environmental edition of Top Gear.”
“Top Gear?!” exclaimed Arthur. “That’s probably the most un-environmental programme on TV.”
“This edition will be especially for non-petrol motors,” Henry re-emphasised. “We’re designing a digital sports car. I think Clarkson will be impressed when he sees it.”
“Well I’ll wish you luck,” said Arthur. “You can tell me all about it next weekend.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you then,” Henry said to Arthur, before he put the phone down.
Arthur continued to wander about the airport, stopping here and there for a rest, and for the odd drink and snack. He considered going to stay with Dermot a couple of times, but each time decided this was not really worth it. In the end, Arthur fell asleep on the chairs at the airport. They didn’t seem too bad, and probably better than in the hibernation unit on the Interstellar Pilgrim.
Arthur caught his flight back to Tenerife the next morning, and brought his car with him. Once he finally arrived home, he didn’t feel like doing much, and fell asleep again.

He woke up a little earlier than usual on Monday morning, and went to work feeling a little better. He spoke to Dermot, to arrange a few days away on Friday and the following Monday. When Arthur said he would help to get the digital car for him, Dermot said he needn’t book any leave, and that he’d authorise the time off on business.
Arthur then arranged a flight for Friday, to Leeds/Bradford airport, and told Henry about this. It was just after 3pm on Friday when Arthur walked into the arrivals lounge, when he saw a familiar lad who had come to pick him up.
Lucas waived to Arthur, to let him know he was there. Arthur waived back, as he walked over to him.
“Hello, Professor Wagstaff,” Lucas said to him. “How is Tenerife treating you, these days?”
“Oh splendid, splendid,” Arthur replied. “Warmth and sunshine all year round, clear skies, which are perfect for observing the stars. I couldn’t have asked for much more. Mind you, I’m not too keen on driving home from the observatory at night.”
“Why’s that?” Lucas asked.
“Well, the observatory is about 8000 feet above sea level,” Arthur told him. “The roads aren’t too large and have many twists and turns, with some steep drops in places.”
“Oh I see,” said Lucas, as he and Arthur walked towards the luggage conveyor belt.
“I sometimes spend the night up at the observatory, particularly when it’s already the next morning,” said Arthur.
“What do you do all that time up there?” Lucas asked Arthur, with a grin on his face.
“Merely watching the night sky,” Arthur replied, though he could see what Lucas may have been alluding to. “I quite like relaxing to a bottle of sangria – I’ve brought a couple of bottles along with me.”
“I don’t suppose they have much tea or coffee in Tenerife,” Lucas queried. “Too hot I suppose?”
“True, but the reason probably has more to do with the fact that they don’t have much natural water,” Arthur explained. “There aren’t any rivers on Tenerife, or the other Canary Islands, come to that. There is the odd beck, but they’re usually dry, except when it rains. Everyone has bottled water.”
“They ought to develop a desalination plant,” suggested Lucas. “Purify the sea water, and ‘feed’ it into a reservoir.”
“I’ve thought about that myself,” said Arthur. “It’s not too popular at the moment, as they may create more greenhouse gasses.”
“But Tenerife is an island, for goodness sake,” said Lucas. “They don’t have to use fossil fuels, just the resources of the sea. It could eventually lower sea levels, or at least maintain the sea’s current level.”
“I know, I know,” said Arthur. “I’ve thought of proposing the suggestion – trouble is the government is a thousand miles away in Madrid.”
“Isn’t there a local government in the archipeligo?” asked Lucas.
“There are two, in fact, though how much authority they have I’m not too sure at the moment,” said Arthur. “How’s the business coming along over here? Have you sold many cars yet?”
“Well, we’re not inundated with orders but they are coming through in dribs and drabs,” Lucas told him. “I’m sure we’ll sell a few more after we’ve been on Top Gear.”
“Ah yes, Henry was telling me about that,” said Arthur, while he was watching for his luggage.
“It doesn’t matter too much that we don’t have many orders, as we haven’t a large workforce, resources, or many overheads,” Lucas explained. “Only the replicator.”
“Just make sure no-one see’s you or any of the others with that thing,” Arthur advised.
“Don’t worry, no-one will see us,” said Lucas. “You haven’t seen our ’factory’ yet, have you?”
“The one on the outskirts of Skipton, you mean?” asked Arthur.
“That’s the one,” said Lucas. “I suppose Henry, or the Major as we like to call him, told you about it.”
Arthur didn’t reply immediately, as he was picking up his luggage.
“I think Henry took me to see it once, just before I started my job in Tenerife,” he then said. “Is Henry waiting in the car?”
“He’s in his office this afternoon,” Lucas told him. “Ramondo is waiting in the car. We can take you to see the Major and the factory.”
They then walked over to the Arrivals exit, after which Lucas led Arthur to the car park, and Ramondo, who was in the waiting car. It wouldn’t take long to get to Skipton, just about half an hour, during which time Arthur told Lucas and Ramondo all about his trip to Hollywood. It was just gone 3 o’clock when they arrived at the factory.
“I can see the factory has been done-up since I last saw the place,” Arthur said to the lads as he looked around the premises. “I can see you’ve got windows at the very top of the building – are they what I think they are?”
“Panels for solar energy,” emphasised Ramondo. “That would be ideal for where you are.”
“Indeed it would, indeed it would. We’d be guaranteed energy without the use of fossil fuels, in the Canaries’,” said Arthur. “I think I’m going to have to get myself onto the local council.”
Lucas then went to open the door to the premises and led Arthur to Henry’s office, while Ramondo locked the car door.
“Hello, come in, come in,” Henry said to Arthur as he opened the office door. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea and some biscuits,” Arthur requested. “I do have a cup or two now and then, but it costs an arm and a leg in Tenerife. Plus it’s too hot to drink tea over there.”
“Lucas, go and fetch a teapot, some cups and biscuits, there’s a good lad,” instructed Henry. “And close the door behind you.”
“I see you’ve got a nice office all of your own,” Arthur then said to Henry.
“Not bad, is it,” Henry replied. “Better than the flight deck of the ‘Pilgrim – I can enjoy a little more privacy.”
“Yes indeed,” said Arthur.
“So, how was the convention?” Henry then asked him.
“Very eventful, thanks,” Arthur replied. “I made a few new friends as well.”
“Yes, you were telling me last week,” said Henry. “Did you get home from the airport okay in the end?”
“All’s well that ended well, as they say,” said Arthur. “I don’t think I had a proper chance to tell you, but my governor wanted to go to Hollywood.”
“Understandable, I suppose, as you weren’t far away,” said Henry. “How was Hollywood? Did you see any stars, movie stars, I mean.”
“We caught a glimpse of a couple, here and there,” Arthur told him.
“Did you get any autographs?” Henry asked. “Like Cindy Crawford, perhaps?”
“No such luck, I’m afraid,” said Arthur, “though we did see Sylvester thing-a-my-jig, and Bruce what’s-his-face.”
“Sylvester Stallone and Bruce Willis, you mean?” Henry queried.
“Yes that’s them,” said Arthur.
“How about Arnie?” Henry asked. “You must have seen Arnie, I suppose.”
“Oh yes, he was at the convention,” Arthur told him. “He didn’t get to say a lot, though, apart from a few introductions at the convention.”
“You were telling me last week that you didn’t think it was the Governor of California who was going to be assassinated,” Henry then queried.
“Yes indeed,” replied Arthur. “The target was actually one of the chaps sitting a few seats away from me.”
“How can you be so sure?” Henry asked him. “All reports say the target was the Governor of California.”
“Ah yes, that’s what we all want the world to believe,” Arthur told him. “The real target was actually the former Astronomer-in-Chief at NASA.”
“And how do you know that?” asked Henry.
“He was sitting a few seats away from me – Frank, was his name,” replied Arthur, as he tried to think of Frank’s full name. “Professor Marshall, Professor Frank Marshall - that was his name.”
“Was he one of your new-found friends?” Henry asked.
“Yes as a matter of fact,” replied Arthur. “He was in charge at NASA when that shuttle was sent to destroy the Interstellar Pilgrim. They weren’t his instructions directly, though.”
“Did the President give the instructions?” asked Henry.
“Indirectly,” Arthur told him. “The Secretary for Defence was the main chap in charge of all that, though I think the President was behind it all somewhere.”
“I suppose if we saw what seemed like an asteroid hurtling towards us, we’d do the same thing,” Henry muttered.
“Of course,” said Arthur. “Anyway, that’s not half the story.”
“Oh,” said Henry. “So what reasons did someone want to assassinate the former Astronomer-in Chief of NASA?”
“Well, he told me that he was offered a golden retirement,” Arthur told him.
“Why, how old was he?” queried Henry.
“Frank was