Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught Read Free Page A

“Please enjoy your stay with us, sirs.”
    Budd stepped out of the lift.
    The foyer was not what he had been expecting. Above his head was a large, arched, glass ceiling that allowed a view of the night sky and the southern face of the hotel. He realized that they were not actually in the main structure of the building, but in an extension that spread from its base. Somewhat amazed by the scale of the towering structure, Budd craned his head upwards, drawn to the light escaping from the regimented rectangular windows, light that blurred into one vast conflagration as his eyes approached the highest levels.
    With a shake of his head, he lowered his gaze to his more immediate surroundings. Running from the elevator, a two-yard wide red carpet went three yards forward and then intersected with a much wider red carpet that crossed the length of the rectangular entrance hall.
    Deacon led the way and reached the longer carpet. Budd stopped beside the scientist. To the right, he could see a set of glass doors that led to the street outside, while to the left, the carpet ran to a set of open double doors, beyond which was the main foyer. On all sides of the red carpet, kept alive by the above-average temperature of the glass-roofed entrance hall, were exotic plants and trees.
    “Thank you for getting me this far, Mister Ashby. That’s you done for today. The TimeTech Solutions U.K. Headquarters is only around the corner. I’ll make contact when I need you.”
    “Sure thing, Charlie. I’ll stick around.”
    “See you later, then.”
    “No hurry,” Budd replied.
    When Deacon had disappeared onto the street, followed by a chorus of polite goodbyes from two doormen, Budd looked around at the people walking across the entrance hall, some as couples, some as singles, but all with the crispness of dress and self-assuredness of the wealthy. He caught the eye of a middle-aged woman in a smart suit and flashed his most charming smile. “Nice night, ma’am, yes?” he said, bending forward and tipping his Stetson.
    With nothing more than a fleeting glance at his brown pants and blue sweatshirt, and even less at his shabby leather boots and stubble-covered face, the businesswoman lowered her eyes and hurried on by.
    Amused, Budd watched her as she walked away. There were plenty of other women in the hotel. He was going to enjoy his stay.
     
    There was no denying it—even from the small amount I’d seen—the New Millennium was shaping up nicely. It had only been open a couple of years, and already its reputation was world renowned, despite having the unfortunate location of Greenwich, which, let’s face it, isn’t the most glamorous place in our tiny global village.
    They’d built it, and all the surrounding buildings, when the whole area had been redeveloped after they’d pulled down that stupid-looking dome—I tell you, I’d like to meet the guy who thought that one up…
     
     
6
    “Thank you very much, Miss Walker,” Budd said, a sparkle in his dark eyes. He had noticed that the names of the hotel employees were sown above the left breast pocket of their mauve jackets, the letters clear in thick, gold thread. Sarah Walker was in her early thirties, with a short bob of brown hair and natural-looking make-up.
    “It’s not ‘Miss’ actually, sir. I’m married,” the receptionist replied. She maintained her polite smile. “Are you sure that you don’t want someone to help with your bag?”
    “I can manage fine from here, thank you,” Budd said, somewhat disappointed by her relationship revelation.
    “Enjoy your stay, Mister Ashby.”
    “I intend to, Mrs. Walker.”
    Budd slipped the newly acquired key-card for his suite into his pants pocket and then walked across the reception to a bank of twelve brass-fronted elevator doors. As he got near, a mauve-suited porter who was standing beside the call button looked at him questioningly.
    “Up, sir?”
    “It’s the only way,” Budd answered. He looked around the