Super-Cannes: A Novel
J. G. Ballard
Language: English
Pages: 400
ISBN: 0312306091
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Eden-Olympia is more than just a multinational business park, it is a virtual city-state in itself, built for the most elite high-tech industries. Isolated and secure, the residents lack nothing, yet one day, a doctor at the clinic goes on a suicidal shooting spree. Dr. Jane Sinclair is hired as his replacement, and her husband Paul uncovers the dangerous psychological vents that maintain Eden-Olympia's smoothly-running surface.
impressionable younger brother. ‘Do join me, Paul.’ He pointed with the remote control to a nearby chair. ‘How’s the party?’ ‘Hard work. I should have borrowed a wheelchair. Did the footman tell you that I was on the way up?’ ‘Security, Paul – we’re obsessed by it. You walk in wearing an assassin’s suit and ask for the chairman. You’re lucky you weren’t shot dead.’ ‘I’m looking for Jane. She’s here somewhere.’ ‘She’s resting in one of the bedrooms. I’ll explain where to find her.’ Penrose
she studied my temperature chart. Looking up from my pillow into her sceptical gaze, I wondered why a beautiful young woman was disguising herself as a hippie. She was gentle enough when she examined my knee. Her small hands with their chipped nails deftly removed the drainage tubes. She finished her chocolate, screwed up the wrapper and dropped it into my half-empty teacup. ‘This knee needs to be flexed more – I’ll get on to physio.’ She studied my admission notes, tapping a pencil between her
had last seen outside the American Express offices in Cannes. Frances Baring leaned against Greenwood’s shoulder, clearly trying to support him. Her eyes were fixed on his face with an expression of concern, less like a lover about to bestow a kiss than a mother helping a child to swallow a difficult morsel. Around them stood a confident group of Eden-Olympia executives, familiar to me from the press cuttings Charles had sent. I recognized Michel Charbonneau, chairman of the Eden-Olympia holding
the lobby at 7.52. No weapon was visible, but we assume he carried the rifle under his white coat.’ ‘The metal detectors didn’t pick it up?’ ‘None are installed. This is a hospital. Metal objects are everywhere – emergency trolleys, hip replacement pins, oxygen cylinders …’ ‘Fair enough. Go on.’ ‘Berthoud was in his private office in the pharmacy on the sixth floor, next to the strongroom where all the drugs at Eden-Olympia are held. He was sitting at his desk when Greenwood fired at him
and arms, as if his body was releasing all its fluids in an attempt to wash away a virulent toxin. He swayed from the parapet and searched for the Range Rover, ringing the ignition keys like a blind man with a bell. ‘Halder …?’ ‘I’m ready. We’ll go now. Where’s the car?’ ‘It’s there. In front of you.’ I started to follow him, but his head was lolling on his shoulders. I could sense the roof deck tilting in his eyes while the paintwork of the Range Rover reached its melting point. Halder