Sepulchre Read Free Page B

Mather said. 'Yes, I think he'd be ideal.'
    A shade reluctantly, Snaith had to agree.
    4 Magma
    Halloran stopped for a moment to gaze up at the twenty-four storey building. Impressive, he thought, and impressive it was, rearing up between staid, grey City blocks like a massive glass and bronze sculpture, tinted windows impenetrably black, its metal structure reflecting the morning sun so that multi-faceted surfaces glowed a deep gold. Exterior elevators slid up and down the smooth walls, pale faces staring out from the capsules, watching the human patterns moving below. All corners -and there were many -were gracefully curved, the outermost buttresses adding a fort-like strength to the architecture, an image abetted by the different levels of the main building, some recessed, others outcropping.
    Magma's headquarters was not a place to be easily stormed, Halloran mused. Yet for all its stunning grandeur, emphasised by the mostly uninspiring drabness of London's financial sector, there was something . . . something brooding about this edifice. Its surfaces dazzled a metallic lustre which seemed almost overpowering, too forceful for the surroundings.
    He stood there a while longer, studying the Magma building, oblivious to the office workers scurrying around him, before crossing the road and going inside, to leave the crisp coldness of the early-spring air for the sterile coolness of the air-conditioned foyer.
    Mather was already waiting for him, seated in the middle of a row of beige lounge chairs and facing a huge circular reception desk. Men in light-blue, epauletted shirts roamed inside the circle, banks of television monitors behind them, monochrome offices and corridors displayed on the screens. Other screens were imbedded in square pillars around the vast concourse, these providing a variety of information for anyone passing through: foreign exchange rates, the general market report, company news, active shares, leading shares, traded options, USM, new issues index and even BBC news headlines.
    The area bustled with life. Escalators carried visitors and staff up to and down from the floor above, while lifts around the glass walls took passengers to the heights. Digital payphones were mounted on low tables set before the rows of lounge chairs, therefor the convenience of waiting businessmen. Lush palms and plants together with kinetic sculptures constructed from the same material as the outside walls, strove to de-formalise the concourse, succeeding only in part. Long glass display cases contained examples of rock strata, while others held samples of ore and minerals, crystals, even semi-precious stones, all exhibits of the earth's contribution towards the Magma empire.
    Halloran noticed several informal meetings taking place around the floor, discussions conducted sotto voce, the undertones adding to the complex's general buzz. Who'd need an office with a set-up like this? he wondered. Maybe the roving security guards who were very much in evidence were also there to discourage non-company personnel from such practices.
    A marble-cladded wall, the large rectangular slabs needing no other decoration than their own subtle-hued textures, brought the wide reception area to an end; several doors and a central lift system (obviously provided for those whose vertigo somewhat reduced the joy of viewing the City panorama while rising above it) spaced themselves along the wall.
    Mather had spotted him and was rising from his seat, one hand pushing against his cane for support. Halloran went forward to meet him.
    'Rather splendid, isn't it?' said Mather as they drew near.
    'Even better than Changi airport,' Halloran replied„ shaking the Planner's hand.
    'Good to see you, Liam. Sorry about the Irish operation.'
    Halloran nodded, said nothing.
    'Let's check in and get our instructions,' suggested Mather, turning away and limping towards the circular reception desk. Halloran followed, still taking in the scene around him.
    A