Free Aftershock by Sam Fisher Page A

cutting back on materials and skimming the building budget to line his own pockets.
    â€˜Okay. We need to get a repair crew down here. And Ralph, don’t make a fuss about this. I’ll call Mr Xavier, but he’s made it clear any problems stay with the systems staff, capiche?’
    Bandonis crawled back along service conduit Number 6, leaving Gafton to replace the metal panel. He had no intention of phoning Xavier – he would go to see him in person. Drag him away from the table if necessary. He could do nothing about the man ripping off his brother and the other investors, but his own life and those of nearly 200 staff and guests would be on the line if this small incident got out of hand.
    And that is exactly what was starting to happen – it was getting out of hand. A strip of printed circuits to the rear of the wall unit had remained untouched by the extinguisher foam. A wire from a transformer less than 2 centimetres away from this strip slipped from its plastic cradle. The wire touched the hot chip and a spark jumped 7 centimetres, igniting a tiny rectangle of paper on a metal case. The flame slithered through an opening in the back of the wall unit.
    According to the original design of the hotel, a sensor system was designed to pick up any temperature rises inside electrical units. To save money, Johnny Xavier had cut two-thirds of the sensors. This meant each unit would have only one-third of the necessary sensors throughout the hotel or that two-thirds of the component units would be completely unprotected. Johnny had gone for the second of the two options.
    Unfortunately, service conduit Number 6 contained electrical units that were unprotected. So, when the fire in the wall unit caught hold and started to eat away at the primary emergency door circuits themselves, no one knew about it until it was much too late.

16
Dome Gamma
    Jim Kemple surveyed the scene and thought for perhaps the tenth time that he had never seen anything quite so awe-inspiring. Their table was close to the centre of the vast top floor of the dome. All around them, the ocean flowed. Jim couldn’t comprehend how the dome could have been constructed even though before dinner he, Alfred and the other guests had listened politely as Michael Xavier explained how the project had come to fruition. Xavier mentioned something about a new material – micro-alloyed glass – that had been used to construct the domes. Apparently it had a thousand times the strength of normal tempered glass so that it could withstand the tremendous pressure at this depth.
    The floor had been opened out. There was a stage at the north end encircled by a gantry of lights. At that moment, a contemporary dance troupe was performing a specially commissioned piece, and in a few moments Kristy Sunshine was due to walk on. Around the circumference of the banqueting hall ran the swimming pool, 6 metres wide, a ribbon of aquamarine that hugged the micro-alloyed glass dome. Eight large round tables had been arranged in the middle of the space, accommodating a dozen guests each.
    Jim noted there was no head table, no hierarchy; celebrities and major shareholders intermingled with ordinary folk like him and Alfred. He scanned the table. Beside him sat a middle aged man in a rather scruffy dinner suit. He had introduced himself as Harry Flanders, a journalist who was making a TV report about the gala night. Next to him was a young couple from Boston. He was a computer whiz, his wife an anthropologist. Going round the table from them, Jim glanced at the Xavier children, the nine-year-old twins, Nick and Emily. Nick was wearing a dinner suit, white shirt and bow tie. His dark hair was slicked back. He looked like a miniature version of his father. Emily was a rather precocious little girl, Jim thought. But she did look pretty cute in her green silk ballgown. Next to Emily, her father was engaged in an animated conversation with the man to his left. Jim