Delaney glared at the small man. ‘Wake him up.’
Ray nodded and retreated as quickly as he could from the room. As the door closed, Delaney got up and turned, looking out the window. He closed his eyes, replaying the plan in his mind.
Nearly three years of extensive research in a remote area of central Queensland followed by six months perfecting the sequence. Only two months remained until everything fell into place. He opened his eyes and glared down at the protestors.
It couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 4
‘Someone is buying and, moreover, stockpiling the world’s gold supply. In the current climate and demand for oil, gas and uranium, the sale and purchase of this valuable commodity is overlooked by analysts again and again. We must ask ourselves, why? Why is this not being highlighted, pursued, or investigated? Here, today, we seek to rectify this.’
Extract from lecture series by Doctor Peter Edgewater, Oxford, England
Oxford, England
Peter closed his eyes and tilted his head back, stretching his neck muscles, glad to be home. He felt he could smell the history of the building surrounding him while, in the next room, he could hear the audience finding their seats, the soft clink of wine glasses as they greeted colleagues, calling to each other, laughter.
‘It never loses it, you know.’ The voice broke his reverie.
‘What?’ He opened his eyes, and looked around for the source of the interruption.
‘Sorry – didn’t mean to startle you.’ A man leaned against one of the pillars, smiling. ‘I meant the atmosphere of the place – it’s always here.’ He walked towards Peter and held out his hand. ‘Charles Moore.’
Peter shook it, then looked around him once more. ‘You’re right.’
‘I take it you were a student here?’ Charles enquired. He took his glasses off and began to polish them.
‘Yes. Although it seems a lifetime ago these days – you?’
‘Cambridge I’m afraid,’ Charles smiled apologetically, put his glasses back on and wandered over to the archway which led to the lecture theatre and peered through.
‘Are you planning on talking to this lot today?’
Peter nodded, joining him. ‘Yes. I’ve just completed a small lecture tour around Europe and the college asked me if I’d like to take part in the inaugural New Year lecture series before the university term begins. It seemed a fitting way to finish my tour.’
Charles turned to him. ‘Has the lecture tour been well received?’
‘Not bad. I enjoy the conversations afterwards actually – travelling can be a bit monotonous. I got the opportunity to talk with quite a few people about my research. You know, compare facts and the like. Always good to know what other academics think – and some of the students. It helps to gauge what reaction the published article will have.’
Charles’ face visibly hardened. ‘Published article?’
Peter nodded enthusiastically, not noticing the man’s changed demeanour. ‘Yes – the feedback from the lecture tour has been so good, I’m discussing publication of the research and lecture notes with a few people, the press included.’
A figure appeared in the entrance to the lecture hall. ‘Doctor Edgewater? You’re up next.’
Peter nodded. ‘I’ll be right there.’ He turned and offered his hand to Charles. ‘Nice to meet you – I’d better go.’
Charles shook Peter’s hand and stepped back. ‘Good luck with the article, Doctor Edgewater. I’m sure it’ll be a fascinating read.’
Charles watched Peter enter the lecture hall, then turned and walked down the hallway to the exit. As he left the building and walked down Parks Road, he pulled a mobile phone from his jacket pocket and dialled a sequence of numbers.
Brisbane, Australia
The city lights cast an orange glow over the river, as ferries and high-powered catamarans carried the last of the late-night diners home. A faint breeze moved through the humid air while the occasional frustrated car horn or siren broke the enveloping silence across the business district.
On the eleventh floor of the skyscraper, Morris Delaney opened the door to his office and ushered in his guest.
Stephen Pallisder was a tall, broad man. A self-made millionaire, the chairman of a large national rail organisation, he had few friends, but had many politicians on his payroll and enormous influence nationally. He also had a reputation for a short temper and an unforgiving fury. Overweight, the product of too much fine wine and dining and very little exercise, he eased himself into one of four leather armchairs, sighed, loosened his tie and put his feet up on the low coffee table in front of him.
‘Jesus, Morris, when did it become so fucking fashionable to be a tree-hugger?’
‘Blame Al Gore – I do,’ said Delaney, ‘I even had one of Helen’s nieces lecturing me at the weekend about clean coal technology being the equivalent of a low-tar cigarette.’
Pallisder laughed. ‘I hope you wrote her out of your will first thing on Monday.’
Delaney grinned. ‘Well, her university fund just mysteriously stopped being paid. Not that I ever understood what she hoped to achieve with a degree in bloody drawing. Surely it can’t be that hard.’
Delaney pushed a brochure across the table to Pallisder.
‘There you have it. With my new mine coming on line and your railway commissioned last month, the shareholders will be happy and we’ll blow away the competition at the conference. I expect we’ll have quite a few offers for new investment by next week.’