Dan nodded. ‘It sounds as good a plan as any. Got any ideas how we’re going to do that?’
‘We need access to a fast computer system – and somewhere that’s not going to attract attention to what we’re going to be looking for.’ Sarah stood up, paced the room, then suddenly stopped, and looked out the hotel window over the river.
‘I know what we can do.’ She spun round, turning to Dan. ‘I know someone at ABC Radio here in Brisbane. Let’s see if she can get us in there. No-one is going to think twice about a reporter digging around, are they?’
A figure at the far end of the park stood up and waved as Dan and Sarah approached.
Sarah grinned as the lanky woman walked over to them. Dressed in a pale green skirt, white top and wearing flat shoes, she hurried over the plaza to hug Sarah.
‘It’s so good to see you! You should’ve told me last week you were heading out here – I could’ve taken some time off to show you around.’
Sarah stepped back. ‘I know. I’m sorry. It was just so last-minute. It’s a bit of a whistle-stop trip anyway.’ She turned to Dan.
‘Dan, this is Hayley Miller, assistant editor at ABC Radio – Hayley, this is Dan, a…’
‘…friend of Peter’s,’ he finished helpfully, shaking Hayley’s hand.
Hayley reached out and gently squeezed Sarah’s arm. ‘Oh, Sarah – I was so sad to hear about Peter. Are they any closer to catching the guy who did it?’
Sarah and Dan glanced at each other, before Sarah spoke. ‘No, the police haven’t got a clue…’
‘…which is why we need your help,’ added Dan.
‘Me?’ Hayley asked. ‘Okay – now I’m really interested.’ She turned to Sarah. ‘What are you up to?’
Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m trying to find out the truth about Peter’s death. I’m – I mean, we’re – not convinced it was a random attack.’
‘And you’ve come all the way to Brisbane?’ Hayley glanced around the park. ‘Tell you what – I’m just on my way back to the office. Why don’t you both come back with me, then we can talk properly?’
Hayley pushed a door open for Dan and Sarah. Closing it, she surveyed the small office then strode over to a side table and began to sweep paperwork and reference books to one side.
‘Okay, Sarah,’ she said, handing over a folder of documents, ‘Here’s what I’ve got on Delaney so far. Help yourself to the photocopier over there. Sorry it’s a bit cramped – I’m lucky to have an office at all.’
‘This is fine, don’t worry,’ said Sarah as she pulled over a chair and began to sift through the paperwork.
Dan wandered over to the window and looked out. The air-conditioning belied the fact the outside temperature was hitting the mid-thirties. He turned and leaned against the window sill. ‘What do you know about Delaney Energy?’ he asked Hayley. ‘Does it have much of an influence around here?’
Hayley nodded. ‘Absolutely. It’s owned outright by a guy called Morris Delaney. He likes to give the impression he’s a bit of a philanthropist. You know, hands out money to various arts events, a couple of high profile charities. Of course, it’s all about marketing his brand.’ She stepped round her desk, sat in a chair and indicated to Dan to take the seat opposite before she continued. ‘His father owned mining interests in South Australia. When he died about forty years ago, Morris Delaney inherited the business and just kept acquiring more and more assets. He’s a shrewd businessman, but there are rumours surrounding him that he’s very violent. No-one will say anything to the media though – they’re too frightened.’
Sarah walked over to Hayley’s desk and began to unravel the bundle containing Peter’s lecture notes. ‘This is what Peter sent to me, just before he was murdered,’ she said. ‘We’re still trying to fathom exactly what he was investigating but there is a phrase that keeps cropping up – white gold. Especially as a powder. Have you ever heard it mentioned in connection with Delaney?’
Hayley shook her head. ‘No – can’t say that I have. What’s it supposed to do?’
Dan shrugged. ‘We’re not too sure. We spoke to a friend of ours back in England and he reckons it’s to do with alternative energy.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘Not like wind farms though – apparently this stuff packs a punch if it can be manufactured on a large scale.’
Hayley turned in her chair and began sifting through a pile of loose papers, then dragged out a white card from beneath a file. ‘This might help shed some light – at least where Delaney’s concerned,’ she said, and slid it across the desk to Dan.
He picked it up and read the ornate writing. It was an invitation to a press conference – to be given that evening, by Morris Delaney. Dan held it up to Hayley. ‘Aren’t you going?’
‘Hell, yes,’ she grinned. ‘That one was for a colleague of mine but something kicked off in far north Queensland yesterday and he’s gone up there to file a report for our six o’clock bulletin tonight.’ She turned to Sarah. ‘I’m sorry – there’s only one. Are you going to fight over it?’
Dan smiled. ‘No – because I’m going.’
Sarah looked up sharply and glared at him. ‘I’m the journalist around here.’
Dan shrugged. ‘And that’s precisely why you’re not going – I want to gauge what this Delaney character is like, not tip him off to the fact we’re onto him. And I know you won’t be able to stop yourself asking some rather pointed questions.’