Standing up, David walked round his desk and sat down in his leather chair. ‘So far, the Prime Minister, the Home Secretary and the head of the Ministry of Defence. They’ll be keeping it contained of course until this is all over, one way or the other. We’re arranging to take the Minister out of circulation – we’ll move him up to a safe house at Brecon tonight. With any luck, they’ll chuck him in a room and throw away the fucking key.’ David banged his fist on the desk.
‘How much does he know?’ asked Philippa. ‘We haven’t used Dan or Sarah’s names in the briefing papers so surely they haven’t been compromised?’
David shook his head. ‘No – but Delaney will know we’re onto him now.’
Philippa drew small flowers on a page of her notebook, deep in thought. ‘What are you going to tell the media about the Minister? We can’t just make him disappear.’
‘There will be a press release issued at five this morning stating the Minister has been diagnosed with cancer and has been ordered to rest.’
Philippa studied David’s face. ‘Is it a terminal case?’
He nodded grimly. ‘Very. He’s unlikely to make it to the end of the month.’
Brisbane, Australia
Delaney slammed the door behind him. He bit his knuckle to stop himself from screaming out loud. Three years of planning and it was all in danger of falling apart.
He stalked across the room, reached his desk, then stooped down. He picked up the wastepaper basket and threw it across the room. It hit a painting on the far wall and tore a hole through the million-dollar masterpiece. The wastepaper basket fell down onto a mahogany side cabinet, smashing a crystal decanter and six glasses before falling to the floor, where it rolled to a stop, the painting crashing down on top of it.
Delaney glared at it, and surveyed the damage, panting. He pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his forehead, then turned and threw himself into the desk chair. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He ignored the pain behind his ribs and concentrated on breathing heavily, pushing the oxygen into his system. He pinched his nose and closed his eyes. Think.
He had expected the Minister’s aide to tell him the politician was busy when he called. The message that the Minister was no longer at work and his whereabouts unknown had thrown Delaney off track. No-one could tell him where the Minister could be found.
He switched the television on in the corner of his room until he found the national twenty-four-hour news channel for the United Kingdom. The ticker-tape headline running across the bottom of the screen confirmed his fears. The Minister had made a mistake. Someone had found out.
He picked up the phone, dialled a series of digits for the UK and tapped his foot on the rug, waiting for the call to connect. A voice eventually answered. ‘Charles – are you watching the news? Right, get on a flight to Severnya Zemlya,’ said Delaney.’ I want you to board the ship there and make sure it arrives on time.’
He paused, listening.
‘Well, tell them you’re going on a cruise,’ he growled. He slammed the phone down, stood up and looked out his office window at the river below. No way would he let the plan fail now.
Chapter 43
Near Denchworth, Oxfordshire, England
Dan woke, sweat beading on his brow. His heart was racing. He ran his hand over his eyes. How much longer?
He realised the lamp next to the bed was switched on, and frowned.
‘Are you okay?’
He jumped at the sound of Sarah’s voice. ‘What?’
She stood at the end of his bed, concern in her eyes. ‘Same dream?’
He nodded. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’
She shrugged, her arms folded across her chest. He noticed she was shivering. The t-shirt she was wearing was no match for the cold winter night.
‘Here, get in before you get cold again,’ he said, pulling the blankets back.
She rolled her eyes and smiled. ‘I’ve heard some excuses…’
Dan shuffled over and Sarah curled up next to him. He pulled the blankets up around them and propped himself up on an elbow. Sarah gazed up at him. His blue eyes pierced through the gloom. Dan lowered his face to hers, and she tilted her head up.
Sarah hesitated, unsure. ‘Dan – I don’t know if I can do this.’ She put her hand on Dan’s chest, closing her eyes.
He rested his chin on her forehead, breathed in her perfume, then leaned back and took her face in his hands. ‘It’s okay.’
He leaned down and kissed her on her neck, his lips caressing her collarbone.
She groaned and leaned back. ‘Dan…’
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards him. She kissed him frantically, desperately searching out every part of him.
‘God, Sarah, you feel wonderful,’ Dan slid a hand down her body, caressing, touching.
Sarah dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades, relishing his touch. She pulled at his hair, desperate to get closer to his skin.
Then her mobile phone rang.
They both jumped. Sarah bit her lip. She sat up, torn between staying and finding out the identity of the caller. She pulled away.
‘Bloody mobile phones,’ said Dan under his breath, and let her go.
He could hear her padding about in the guest room as she switched on a light and tried to find her mobile phone before it stopped ringing. He groaned and let his head hit the pillow. Talk about bad timing. He heard Sarah answer the phone, then the murmurs of a short conversation before he heard her coming back to the room.
‘That was Philippa,’ she said, as she stood in the doorway and balanced on one leg, pulling on a pair of jeans. ‘David wants us back in the office. Now. She says they’ve found a trace of where the hijacked freighter’s been.’
Dan pushed open the door to the conference room and strode across to where Philippa sat staring at her computer screen. ‘Where?’
‘The Kara Sea, north of Russia. Turned up in an historical report on one of those satellite databases I told you about.’ Philippa handed him the report and glanced pointedly at Sarah, who blushed and sat down.
‘And,’ Philippa continued, ‘we just got a report in from the Japanese Coast Guard. They found the freighter crew. Well, what’s left of them anyway.’