‘Are you sure it’s him?’
‘Yes! Yes – I’d recognise him anywhere!’ Sarah turned and looked over her shoulder as they drove away.
‘No, don’t! Look the other way – I don’t want him to spot you.’ Dan risked a glance at the house. Sure enough, the man now stood in the parking bay outside the property, polishing his glasses as he watched the car pull away.
‘Shit!’
He floored the accelerator. Sarah held onto her seat to steady herself as Dan shot out of the lane onto the road which led through the village and gunned the car forward. He looked in the rear view mirror.
‘I don’t think he’ll find us – with any luck, he didn’t have time to get back to his car.’ He turned left onto a lane which wound its way out of the village and towards a main road. ‘We’ll put a bit of distance between us and the house before we stop.’
Sarah chewed on her nails.
‘Do I phone the insurance company now and tell them I’ll be making a claim after my house blows up from a gas explosion?’
Dan leaned over and squeezed her arm.
‘Try not to think about it. Let’s just concentrate on getting away from here for the moment.’
Sarah nodded. ‘God knows when I’ll be going home now. How did he find me, Dan?’
He shrugged. ‘People like him will have access to all sorts of information. We were right to hide your car from view. He’s obviously got your address from the licensing records – he tracked Peter down, remember? I’ll bet he’s working for someone too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s just too clinical, the way everything’s happening. First, Peter is killed – probably because of the content of his lectures – then his house is destroyed to make sure any research he may have had there couldn’t fall into anyone’s hands.’ He punched the steering wheel in frustration. ‘And now this.’
He slowed as they approached a junction and took a right turn back in the direction of Oxford.
‘Dan? Why don’t you contact that old university lecturer of yours and Peter’s, see what he can work out?’ asked Sarah.
‘Who? Harry? Bloody hell, Sarah. I don’t know.’
‘Well, Peter always spoke highly of him. I met him once – he seemed very knowledgeable.’
Dan exhaled loudly. ‘Do you want to get him involved?’
Sarah drummed her fingers on the door frame. ‘I’m just thinking he might point us in the right direction – we can take it from there. I mean, what other choice do we have?’
Dan grunted. Glancing at his watch, he did a quick calculation. ‘Look, I’ll drop you off at my place.’
‘What will you do?’ asked Sarah.
‘I’ll speak to Harry.’ He grimaced. ‘Given the way our last conversation ended, I should probably go alone. Do you know where he lives these days?’
‘Somewhere near Uffington,’ said Sarah. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a battered address book. ‘Here, I’ll write down the address for you. I still think I should go with you though.’
‘When did you last see him?’
She frowned. ‘A couple of years ago, I think. Peter and I took him out to lunch over at the White Horse pub.’
‘Is he still pissed off at me?’
Sarah grinned. ‘He’ll always be pissed off with you – he said you were his star student. Peter reckons Harry was truly upset when you quit the field.’
‘I’ll bet.’ Dan changed up a gear as they reached the ring road and filtered into the busy traffic. ‘Look, I really need to speak to him alone. I’m going to drop you off at the house, no hanging around. I’ll go over and talk to Harry. Lock the doors and don’t switch on any lights – I’ll be back before it gets dark anyway. Don’t open the door to anyone. I’ll phone the house before I knock on the door. Understand?’
Sarah nodded.
Dan glanced at her, then back at the road. ‘I mean it, Sarah. No deviations from the plan. I don’t care how important you think it is. Don’t phone anyone either – we don’t know if outgoing calls on your mobile are being monitored.’
Sarah paled. ‘Y-you think they could?’
‘I don’t know what to think any more. I’m just going into survival mode.’
London, England
David Ludlow slammed the phone down and turned to his aide.
‘Bring me the files on a guy called Delaney – immediately. I want photos, shareholder reports, satellite maps of his mines and refineries, especially Australian ones, everything. And keep it classified. No-one outside these four walls is to know.’
As the aide scuttled out of the office, David stood up and looked out the window at the dreary cityscape below him. Jesus, of all the times for this to happen – the Olympic Games only months away, the Prime Minister struggling to maintain any sort of lead in the opinion polls, then this.
‘Shit!’ David kicked the corner of the filing cabinet, and then jumped as his office door swung open.
‘David – glad you’re here. What’s going on?’
David pulled his jacket straight and forced his shoulders to relax.
Stephen Lowe strolled across the office and sat in David’s chair, swinging it round to face him. ‘Well? Unusual to see you so worked up about something.’
David walked over and leaned against the window sill. ‘Yeah, I know.’
He glanced down at the cold winter morning. Rain lashed against the window, the cold air spilling around the frame, while outside it tried to turn to snow. Commuters dashed backwards and forwards under umbrellas while cars splashed by, headlights blazing.
Lowe coughed politely and David turned his attention back to his boss.
‘Sorry sir,’ he said. ‘Just the thought processes ticking over.’ He forced a smile and wandered back to the desk, pulled out a chair opposite Lowe and sat down.