Free White Gold by Rachel Amphlett Page A

if outgoing calls on your mobile are being monitored.’
    Sarah paled.  ‘Y-you think they could?’
    ‘I don’t know what to think any more. I’m just going into survival mode.’
     
    London, England
     
    David Ludlow slammed the phone down and turned to his aide.
    ‘Bring me the files on a guy called Delaney – immediately. I want photos, shareholder reports, satellite maps of his mines and refineries, especially Australian ones, everything. And keep it classified. No-one outside these four walls is to know.’
    As the aide scuttled out of the office, David stood up and looked out the window at the dreary cityscape below him. Jesus, of all the times for this to happen – the Olympic Games only months away, the Prime Minister struggling to maintain any sort of lead in the opinion polls, then this.
    ‘Shit!’ David kicked the corner of the filing cabinet, and then jumped as his office door swung open.
    ‘David – glad you’re here. What’s going on?’
    David pulled his jacket straight and forced his shoulders to relax.
    Stephen Lowe strolled across the office and sat in David’s chair, swinging it round to face him. ‘Well? Unusual to see you so worked up about something.’
    David walked over and leaned against the window sill. ‘Yeah, I know.’
    He glanced down at the cold winter morning. Rain lashed against the window, the cold air spilling around the frame, while outside it tried to turn to snow. Commuters dashed backwards and forwards under umbrellas while cars splashed by, headlights blazing.
    Lowe coughed politely and David turned his attention back to his boss.
    ‘Sorry sir,’ he said. ‘Just the thought processes ticking over.’ He forced a smile and wandered back to the desk, pulled out a chair opposite Lowe and sat down.
    ‘Come on then, out with it,’ said Lowe. ‘What’s the problem?’
    David sighed. ‘An organisation we’ve had our eye on for some time,’ he said. ‘At first glance, it looks like a legitimate business but I’ve had a small core team working on it, looking into some of its acquisitions over the past five years or so.’
    Lowe leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. ‘Nothing wrong with mergers and acquisitions, David. What raised the flag?’
    ‘The death of Peter Edgewater,’ said David.
    Lowe sniffed. ‘Name rings a bell. Remind me?’
    ‘Oxford lecturer. Earth sciences and the like. Completed a very successful lecture tour over the past month or so. He presented a lecture at his college in Oxford on his return to the country, then two days later turned up dead in a nearby nature reserve. Police reckon it was a mugging.’
    ‘And you don’t?’
    ‘It’s a bit too convenient, isn’t it?’ said David. ‘His lecture tour was causing quite a stir amongst the oil, gas and coal sector. Rumour has it he’d just entered into negotiations with a publisher and one of the national newspapers to do a serialised version of his lecture. Nothing libellous, but enough for people to work out who he was pointing the finger at.’
    ‘So you think he was murdered?’ Lowe asked.
    ‘I’m sure he was,’ said David. ‘I think someone was following the progress of his lecture tour very closely. I’m sure he was threatened at least once. I certainly got that impression when I spoke with him.’
    ‘You contacted him?’ Lowe sat upright. ‘When?’
    ‘In Paris, just after the New Year,’ said David. He looked away and shrugged. ‘I could be wrong, but he seemed on edge. Scared. He certainly didn’t appreciate me being there.’
    ‘I’m sure,’ said Lowe. ‘Did I authorise that trip?’
    David glanced at him. ‘No need. It’s part of an ongoing investigation your predecessor sanctioned. Sir.’
    Lowe shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,’ he said, getting up and looking out the window. ‘Oxford has its crime problems, same as anywhere else.’
    David stood up and stretched, then joined him.
    ‘So, what’s the rest