The Fear Index
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High tech finance and sophisticated computer programming combine in this terrifying and fiendishly smart new novel from Robert Harris.
Dr. Alex Hoffmann stays out of the public spotlight, but within the secretive inner circles of the ultra-rich he is a legend. And now he has developed a revolutionary form of artificial intelligence that predicts movements in the financial markets with uncanny accuracy. As a result, his Geneva-based hedge fund is poised to make billions. But one morning before dawn, a sinister intruder breaches the elaborate security of his lakeside mansion. So begins a waking nightmare of paranoia and violence as Hoffmann attempts, with increasing desperation, to discover who is trying to destroy him.
Easterbrook, Amschel Herxheimer, Iain Mould, Mieczyslaw Łukasiński, Liwei Xu, Qi Zhang From: Hugo Quarry Subject: Alex My dear friends, by the time you read this you will probably have begun to hear the tragic story of what happened to Alex Hoffmann yesterday. I will call you all individually later today to discuss the situation. For now I just wanted you to know that he is receiving the very finest medical care, and that our prayers are with both him and Gabrielle at this difficult moment. Of
spoke to me as if I were a child.” “Then stop behaving like one. Here, you can hold this.” She dropped his bag of clothes onto his lap and walked ahead to summon the elevator. Gabrielle obviously knew her way to the radiology department, a fact that Hoffmann found obscurely irritating. Over the past couple of years the staff had helped her with her artwork, giving her access to the scanners when they were not in use, staying late after their shifts had finished to produce the images she needed.
punctuality, invariably arrived at police headquarters on the Boulevard Carl-Vogt at 9:00 sharp and that his first act of the day was always to read the summary of what had occurred in the canton overnight. Therefore, when the telephone rang in his office at 9:08, he had a fair idea of who might be on the other end of the line. A brisk voice said, “Jean-Philippe?” “Morning, Chief.” “This assault on the American banker, Hoffmann.” “Yes, Chief?” “Where are we on this?” “He’s discharged
the centre of the room. His movements were unhurried. He was taking knives from their sockets in a butcher’s block and sharpening them on an electric grinder. Hoffmann’s heart was pumping so fast he could hear the rush of his own pulse. His immediate thought was Gabrielle: he must get her out of the house while the intruder was preoccupied in the kitchen. Get her out of the house, or at the very least get her to lock herself in the bathroom until the police arrived. He still had his mobile in
where the trailing wires were touching, a blue-white spark flashed intermittently. He thought he saw something move in the crawlspace. He closed his eyes and the imprint of the spark continued to glow as if he had been staring at the sun. A worm of suspicion began to form in his mind. Genoud, bent over the computer, said triumphantly, “There!” He straightened and stood aside to let Hoffmann and Quarry examine his emails. He had filtered his saved messages so that only those from Hoffmann were