David rolled his eyes. Philippa had a nerve, but she always got results fast. He’d worry about telling the Americans it was a false alarm once he worked out what the hell was really going on in Australia.
He reached across, switched on a small desk lamp and angled the beam of light onto an aerial photograph of a patch of scrubland. The scaling printed on the photo told him he was looking at an area approximately two hundred kilometres square. He frowned, then peered closer.
‘Philippa?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Anyone in the photo laboratory working late tonight?’
‘Probably. They increased the shift cover with the Olympics coming up. Guess they reckoned on a few more nutters being around.’
David held up the photograph. ‘Can you get some copies of this done straight away?’ He picked up a permanent marker and circled an area in the top right-hand corner of the picture. ‘Get a couple of close-ups of this area.’
Philippa stood up, stretched her tall frame and wandered over to the table. She held out a hand for the photograph. ‘Do you want a coffee when I come back?’
‘Yeah, thanks. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.’
He watched as Philippa left the room then looked down at the remaining photographs in the folder.
As well as aerial reconnaissance pictures, the folder also contained photographs of various people, captured as they left buildings or sat in restaurants. He gathered the photographs together, stood up and walked over to a large whiteboard which covered the length of one wall at the end of the room. Methodically, he stuck each photograph to the whiteboard, then stood back with his arms crossed and stared at the pictures.
Delaney was easily recognisable. The man was over six feet tall, broad shouldered with a mass of thick white hair combed back away from his face. He looked tanned, rich, and completely at ease with his guest at a restaurant.
David’s focus shifted to the next photograph. A shorter, broader man was emerging from a chauffeur-driven car. The man was thick-set and appeared to be unused to the hot Australian summer, tugging at his tie as he clambered out of the vehicle. Uli Petrov, Russian entrepreneur – rumoured to be buying up gas commodities with a view to breaking into the lucrative European market at a rate which even alarmed the Kremlin, according to David’s sources.
He glanced briefly at the next picture. Steven Pallisder, Delaney’s joint venture partner. David frowned. What the hell was going on?
He turned round as the door opened and Philippa walked in, the photographs tucked under her arm and a coffee cup in each hand. David gratefully took one of the coffees and the photographs from her.
‘Let’s see what we’ve got here,’ he said and put the coffee cup down on the table. He strode back to the whiteboard and pinned up the enlarged photographs. He stepped back and tilted his head, taking in the increased level of detail.
Philippa pulled out a chair, sat down and began scanning through a series of financial reports.
David stepped closer over to the enlarged satellite photograph pinned to the whiteboard. The photographic team had enhanced the image and had highlighted the area of David’s interest.
An angry red felt tip pen mark circled an area of the surface, which seemed to be erupting.
David cocked his head to one side as he looked at it. ‘Philippa?’
‘Hmm?’ Philippa looked up from the report she held in her hand.
David turned to her. ‘Do me a favour. See if we’ve got any satellite images in the library that show the effects of underground atomic testing.’
He turned back to the photograph.
‘I have a bad feeling I might know what this guy is up to.’
Chapter 13
Dan raced through the dark country lanes, braking hard when he saw headlights travelling from the opposite direction, then accelerating the car around the tight, narrow bends.
His mind raced. They finally had a breakthrough, thanks to Harry.
He risked a glance at the bundle of notes lying on the passenger seat and wondered what other secrets they would reveal in time. He and Harry had spent another hour carefully poring over the other documents, holding them up to the light in case more imprints could be found. In the end, Harry had shaken his head and started to gather up the papers.
‘It’s no good,’ he said. ‘That was our lucky break. You’re just going to have to find out what D.E.C. means – otherwise you risk a wasted journey.’
Dan nodded then, glancing at his watch, realised how late it was. ‘Christ, Sarah’s going to be worrying where I am.’ He’d taken the documents from Harry and had given the older man a brief hug. ‘Thanks for everything, Harry. I don’t think I ever said that enough in the past.’
Harry nodded, patted his arm, and then walked with him to the front door. ‘You’re always welcome, Dan. You should know that.’ He opened the door and a gust of cold air rushed into the narrow hallway. ‘Come back and tell me how you both get on in Australia.’
Dan had insisted Harry return to the warmth of the house while he hurried to the car, hugging himself against the chill of the night air.
Now, he braked as he entered a small, dimly lit village. He leaned forward and turned down the heater a little. He drummed his fingers impatiently as he drove down the main street of the village, the street lights casting orange pools of light in between the shadows. As he passed the speed limit signs on the boundary of the village, he floored the accelerator once more.
After a while, the country lane spat him out onto the main dual carriageway into Oxford. Within half an hour, he’d reached the outer limits of the city and followed the ring road back to his house. As the car pulled up in the driveway, he saw a curtain twitch open, the light from the living room illuminating the gravel surface. He took out his phone and dialled.