Vesta - Painworld by Jennifer Jane Pope

out a cigarette and rolling it between his fingers. ‘You know your stuff, my friend, whoever you are.’
    After the initial shock of seeing Clarissa’s tormented situation, Marlon had quickly re-gathered his senses, for he was nothing if not practical, at least when it came to something he understood and loved. The bastards who were holding his half sister were relying on the gargantuan anonymity of the Internet to protect and hide their identities and location, but huge as the web was, there were always ways of following a trail.
    Or so Marlon had thought.
    Until now.
    Whoever had put up this particular website was good, there was no doubting that. Using his own unique talents, Marlon had quickly penetrated the first couple of layers of defences, convinced that it was only a matter of time before he came up with something that would give him a clue as to where these people were based, but there was nothing. Every avenue he explored led to a dead end and even the phone number that had been used to post the site onto the net turned out to have been registered to a district nurse in the highlands of Scotland.
    Marlon had even tried dialling the number and the woman had answered it herself on the third ring, excusing herself to pull her car over onto a verge before continuing with the conversation. No, she hadn’t lent her phone to anyone and no, it had been neither lost nor stolen and she’s had it for nearly two years now. Where had she bought it? A telephone shop in Fort William and aye, they were a very reputable company and why did he want to know anyway?
    Marlon mumbled something about consumer research and an article about organised gangs cloning, or ripping-off people’s mobile phones for fraudulent use, and then broke the connection as quickly as he could without arousing any further suspicions. He cursed out loud, for he had been so sure of himself to begin with.
    Random cloning, that had to be the answer. Not easy - in fact the phone companies claimed it was impossible to do, though Marlon knew different - and no good for continuous use. But for someone who just wanted to make a handful of calls over a period of one or two days, it was an ideal barrier against being tracked down.
    â€˜Damn!’ Marlon thrust the cigarette angrily between his lips and scrabbled in the cluttered drawer for a lighter. Already his fertile brain was heading off at an entirely different angle, but he needed time and time was something he did not appear to have very much of.
    Â 
    â€˜You’ve been a bit quiet since the big run,’ Ellen said. Lianne looked up from her book, her expression temporarily blank. ‘And it’s not like you to just slop around the place in a robe, even if it is silk. You’ve hardly been out of something rubber in all the months you’ve been coming here.’
    â€˜Except in VESTA’s little world,’ Lianne muttered.
    Ellen raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh?’ she invited. ‘Only you still haven’t told me what happened. I told you about my little experiences, but you’ve said nothing and that’s not like the usual you.’ Lianne gently closed the book and set it onto the table beside her armchair.
    â€˜To be honest,’ she said, ‘it’s all a bit confused now. Oh, I can remember the main stuff, but lots of the details are a bit hazy.’
    â€˜Or you don’t want to remember them,’ Ellen suggested. She knelt down in front of her friend and peered up into her face. ‘Maybe it wasn’t quite what you were expecting?’ she prompted. Lianne pursed her lips.
    â€˜Something like that,’ she admitted, grudgingly. ‘I think VESTA’s been searching some very peculiar places for backgrounds and stuff,’ she said, after a long pause. ‘Either that or Marlon - or somebody else around here - has some bloody weird fantasies; weirder than what passes for normal even in this place, at any