He shivered. He’d be glad to get out of Berlin tomorrow. Travelling to Paris meant being a little closer to home. Living out of a suitcase lost its appeal after a few weeks on the road.
Peter walked across the room and slid the balcony door shut, sweeping the curtains closed, though not before he’d glanced nervously at the windows in the building opposite. How long had he been followed? Had he spoken to the person who had phoned? Had he been approached after the lecture today without realising who he was speaking with?
Peter realised he no longer knew who to trust.
The university had threatened to cut his funding last month – the lecture tour was devised by Peter to create an awareness of the clandestine demand for super-conducted precious metals, particularly white gold, so the research couldn’t be ignored. He was sure the university was under pressure from the UK government to stop him before he uncovered anything it was experimenting with.
He wandered back to the bed, sat down and swung his legs up, grabbed the television remote and flicked to the 24-hour news channel. His flight to Paris was scheduled to leave mid-morning, with the lecture taking place in the evening. Hitting the mute button, he reached for his notes.
He took a long swallow of the beer and absently contemplated the label. Maybe it was time to ramp up the lectures now he was heading home, to see who came out of the shadows, he thought, then turned the page.
Despite the warning, he couldn’t quit, not now – he was too close. There was too much at stake.
Chapter 2
‘The increasing price of oil is just the start. Consider the fact that when oil prices rise, so do gold and platinum. Many reasons are given – the weak dollar, global inflation … except oil prices fluctuate depending on what’s going on in the world. Gold, however, has continually increased in price and shows no sign of stopping …’
Extract from lecture series by Doctor Peter Edgewater, Paris, France
Paris, France
Peter stood in the doorway leading out of the lecture theatre, elated and high on adrenaline after another successful presentation. The risk was worth it. The audience took a while to file past, some shaking his hand, others stopping to chat as they went.
Peter excused himself from the throng and began to walk back to the podium for his water glass. He took a sip, and then started to gather up his notes, snapping his briefcase shut before stepping off the small dais.
‘Doctor Edgewater?’
Peter turned to the man on his left. ‘Yes?’
The man stepped forward, and offered his hand. ‘An impressive lecture, Doctor Edgewater – I see it’s proving popular.’
Peter put the glass down and shook the proffered hand. ‘Thank you – yes, it seems to be; although I’m not sure how many audience members see this as another conspiracy theory instead of what it really is.’
‘And what would that be?’ asked the man. He fell into step with Peter as he walked out of the lecture theatre and through the ornate hallway.
Peter stopped in his tracks and considered the question briefly before answering. ‘An organised takeover of the world’s precious metal resources by large conglomerates who have failed to disclose their interests and ulterior motives would be a good start… sorry, have we met before?’
‘No, sorry, forgive my rudeness. My name’s David Ludlow – I’ve been following the reviews of your lecture series with interest. You seem to have stirred up a hornet’s nest in high places.’
‘Is that so? Would you care to elaborate?’
David looked down the hallway, before taking hold of Peter by the elbow and steering him to a small alcove. ‘Here – where we can’t be overheard.’
Peter followed, puzzled. ‘Who did you say you worked for?’
‘I didn’t,’ said David dismissively.
Peter folded his arms across his chest. ‘Then why should I listen to you?’
The other man looked at him closely, appraising him. ‘Because your life is at risk.’
‘So you’re threatening me?’
‘No, Peter, no I’m not.’ David checked the hallway before continuing. ‘I work for an agency which, let’s just say, advises the government about threats to national security.’
He held up his hand to stop Peter interrupting.
‘Hear me out. Twelve months ago, we started looking more closely into an organisation which had been actively purchasing or forcibly taking over gold mining operations over the space of two to three years. Australia, South Africa, Eastern Europe, South America – you get the picture. For a while, we couldn’t work out why – it wasn’t the usual mergers and acquisitions strategy of a normal mining company, neither was it money-laundering activities we’d associate with either drugs or terrorism. Still, we added it to our watch list.’
‘Then you began your lecture tour in Europe. The communications traffic increased dramatically – particular phrases kept cropping up – white gold, super-conducted precious metals.’
Peter frowned. ‘Well, without sounding like I have a huge ego, I would imagine that would be because a lot of what I’ve been presenting has been highly controversial – I’d expect a flurry of activity on the internet,’ he said.
David shook his head. ‘What I’m talking about couldn’t be described as a ‘flurry’, Peter. We’re talking a snowstorm of incredible proportions – some of it covert, and not ours.’
‘I still can’t see how all this means my life is in danger,’ said Peter, exasperated. ‘All I’m doing is raising people’s awareness about what’s going on – same as any journalist would.’
‘And how is Sarah these days?’ asked David.
‘What?’ Peter was taken aback. ‘What do you mean?’