‘Well, she’s a journalist – with a deserved reputation for digging up stories like this. What does she think about your lectures?’
‘You leave her out of this – we’ve been separated for the last eighteen months, as you’re probably aware, given you’ve been spying on me – and she knows nothing about this research.’ Peter stepped closer to the other man and lowered his voice. ‘And if you’re going to threaten me or my family, then you can piss off.’ Peter began to turn away.
‘Doctor Edgewater, I’m sorry you feel that way inclined,’ said David. He took hold of Peter’s arm. ‘I’ve been asked to convey the message that you tread very carefully. Some of the comments you’ve been making during your lecture tour could be construed by others as being inflammatory, at least.’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘Have you received any threats in recent weeks?’
Peter shrugged the other man’s grip off his sleeve. ‘Apart from the one you just gave me? No.’
David looked at him. ‘I hope you’re telling me the truth, Peter. I am not a threat, and I don’t like being lied to – my superiors are actually very concerned for your safety. If you get yourself into trouble before we’re ready to make a move against this organisation, you’re on your own – I certainly can’t vouch for your safety. We’d much rather work with you than against you.’
‘Thank your superiors for me, David. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting to go to.’ Peter brushed past the other man and walked down the ornate steps to the door, heart racing.
He pushed the door open and stepped out onto the busy street. He looked both ways, willing himself not to start panicking. The lecture notes and research were in an envelope in his briefcase.
Call it instinct, but he’d decided from the outset of his lecture tour in Europe he’d need a back-up plan. He expected the conglomerates and organisations involved in blocking the research would sit up and take notice, but this was suddenly becoming more extreme than he’d bargained for.
As he hurried along the street, he raised his umbrella and pushed past commuters heading out to lunch. He turned left at the intersection, careful not to slide on the wet pavement. He spotted the post office on the other side of the road and tapped his foot while he waited for the traffic lights to change. He stepped back as a bus splashed past him. He couldn’t help a surreptitious glance over his shoulder.
He was convinced he saw David Ludlow standing with a woman, watching him from a distance, but the crowd shifted and he lost sight of them. An electronic zap brought him to his senses as the pedestrian crossing lights flashed green and he hurried across the street. Increasing his pace, he hurried along the street to the post office and pushed the door open, lowering his umbrella and nearly knocking over a young mother and her child. ‘P-pardon, Madame,’ he stuttered as he held the door open for them.
The woman glared at him with the child’s face echoing hers. Peter closed the door and turned to the counter. He breathed a sigh of relief – the lunchtime rush hadn’t yet started.
He opened the briefcase against his leg and slid out an envelope. After checking the seal was secure, he took a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled an address on the outside.
As he paid the postage to send the package, Peter turned and glanced up out the post office window as a woman passed by. He was sure it was the same person he’d seen standing with David Ludlow.
He swallowed, and felt a drop of sweat streak down the side of his face. This was real. It was really happening. A thought raced through his head – I was right! It did nothing to calm him. If people really were following him, it meant his research was correct and he had to protect that.
Peter moved over to a corner of the room, away from the growing queue and took out his mobile phone. Scrolling through the contact list, he glanced outside the window again. No-one there. He found the name he wanted, hit the send button and waited for the connection.
Dammit! It went straight to voicemail.
‘Dan, it’s Peter here. I think I’m in trouble. I-I don’t know who else to call. I’m in Paris at the moment. I’m going to get a train back to Ashford this afternoon then I’ll drive up to Oxford to do the last lecture tomorrow. I’ll call you after the lecture. I’ve no idea where you are these days so I’ve sent some information to Sarah – it’ll explain everything. I don’t know if I’ll be able to. If I don’t make it, please go to her – and be careful who you give the information to or discuss it with. I’ve already received some threats I didn’t think were serious, but after today, I’m beginning to think my life’s in danger. I’ll call you as soon as I can.’
Hanging up, Peter realised his hands were shaking.
Chapter 3
‘Events continue to prove the rush for precious metals is real. People continue to struggle against multi-national takeovers of their gold mines, with more and more control of these resources being lost to foreign organisations. Further, takeovers are little-publicised affairs, despite the size of the organisations involved. More importantly, it would seem it is the coal, oil and gas companies seeking to control the precious metals market.’
Extract from lecture series by Doctor Peter Edgewater, Paris, France
Brisbane, Australia
Morris Delaney stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and looked out of the smoked glass office window. Below, he could see people dashing backwards and forwards across the busy intersection. Ants, he thought. No – cockroaches.