Sarah walked over to Hayley’s desk and began to unravel the bundle containing Peter’s lecture notes. ‘This is what Peter sent to me, just before he was murdered,’ she said. ‘We’re still trying to fathom exactly what he was investigating but there is a phrase that keeps cropping up – white gold. Especially as a powder. Have you ever heard it mentioned in connection with Delaney?’
Hayley shook her head. ‘No – can’t say that I have. What’s it supposed to do?’
Dan shrugged. ‘We’re not too sure. We spoke to a friend of ours back in England and he reckons it’s to do with alternative energy.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘Not like wind farms though – apparently this stuff packs a punch if it can be manufactured on a large scale.’
Hayley turned in her chair and began sifting through a pile of loose papers, then dragged out a white card from beneath a file. ‘This might help shed some light – at least where Delaney’s concerned,’ she said, and slid it across the desk to Dan.
He picked it up and read the ornate writing. It was an invitation to a press conference – to be given that evening, by Morris Delaney. Dan held it up to Hayley. ‘Aren’t you going?’
‘Hell, yes,’ she grinned. ‘That one was for a colleague of mine but something kicked off in far north Queensland yesterday and he’s gone up there to file a report for our six o’clock bulletin tonight.’ She turned to Sarah. ‘I’m sorry – there’s only one. Are you going to fight over it?’
Dan smiled. ‘No – because I’m going.’
Sarah looked up sharply and glared at him. ‘I’m the journalist around here.’
Dan shrugged. ‘And that’s precisely why you’re not going – I want to gauge what this Delaney character is like, not tip him off to the fact we’re onto him. And I know you won’t be able to stop yourself asking some rather pointed questions.’
Sarah shrugged. ‘Okay, you go. I’ll spend the time finding out if there’s any connection between Peter’s notes and what information Hayley’s given me.’ She put all the documentation into her bag. ‘I’m fascinated by this guy – he’s manipulated laws and everything to get his own way over the years. There must be something here to give us an idea of what he’s really up to.’
Hayley nodded, then looked at her watch. ‘What I’ve managed to uncover is more information than what you’ll pick up on the internet articles, so at least you’ll get a head start,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry but I’ll have to kick you out so I can get ready for our six o’clock bulletin and get a team prepared for the press conference – is there somewhere at the hotel you can get your head down?’
Dan nodded. ‘They have a business centre there we can use.’ He stood up as Hayley got up to leave the room. ‘Thanks for your help.’
Hayley smiled at him and Sarah as she held the door open for them. ‘Hey, it’s the least I could do for you – and Peter. Good luck.’
***
‘Did it help?’
They were walking along Southbank, a ferry sauntering past them on the mud-coloured river. Dan walked a little ahead of Sarah, then stopped to look at her.
She caught up and shrugged. ‘A little bit. I’ve managed to get Pete’s notes into some sort of coherent order but I feel like I’ve still got a lot of catching up to do. The sequence jumps around a bit.’
She stood to one side to let a cyclist pass. She shrugged her bag further up on to her shoulder. ‘I thought I might go back to the hotel and see if I can reorganise it all. Follow a timeline or something to try to make more sense of what we’ve got here.’
Dan nodded. ‘Okay, well I’m going to go over to this press conference of Delaney’s – I want to know what he looks like in person, rather than us relying on photographs all the time.’
Sarah glanced back towards the river, then turned to Dan. ‘Just behave yourself,’ she said, as she swung her bag over her shoulder and headed back to the hotel. ‘And remember to bring me back some canapés!’
Dan turned right and began to walk up the street, his jacket slung over his arm. He figured there was no sense in rushing in the summer evening heat.
He noticed how quickly darkness fell over the city. As he walked through the botanical gardens, he heard the chatter of possums and flying foxes interspersed with the steady flow of traffic beside him. Cicadas chanted noisily – a natural white noise that was constant in the humid air.
As he approached the university and government building complex, he reached into his jacket and plucked out the press invitation Hayley had procured for him. According to her, very few invites had been given to those outside Delaney’s inner circle.
He slowed as he turned left into the pedestrian-friendly university complex and stood outside the state government building. There was no queue to enter – invitees were being processed thoroughly and efficiently. Invites checked, invitees shepherded through a metal detector, then two sniffer dogs and their handlers present on the other side, just in case.
Dan held the invite between his teeth and shrugged his jacket over his shoulders. He’d have to be careful. The last thing he wanted was to alert Delaney to his presence. He planned to stay in the background, away from the limelight. Merely a casual observer. He cricked his head from side to side, took the invite out of his mouth and strolled across the concourse to the entranceway.
He nodded to the doorman and handed him his invitation. The doorman smiled politely and turned away from him before facing Dan, holding out a small plastic basket in front of him.
‘If sir has any jewellery, coins or other metal objects on his person, perhaps he could place them in the basket before passing through the metal detector?’
Dan grimaced, slipped his watch off his wrist and emptied the change from his pockets. The doorman glanced down, saw nothing of interest in the basket and passed it to his colleague on the other side of the security barrier. He turned back to Dan and then frowned.
Dan stared at him. ‘What?’
The doorman smiled, embarrassed. He reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a paper handkerchief. He held it out to Dan. ‘Perhaps sir would like to lose the chewing gum as well?’
Dan raised his eyebrow at the doorman, shrugged, spat the chewing gum into the handkerchief and handed it back to the doorman.
‘Don’t use it all at once,’ he said and strolled through the metal detector.
The security guard on the other side handed the small basket back to Dan and gestured he should move to one side to refill his pockets, to get him out of the way of other arriving guests.
Dan looked around the entrance hallway as he re-fastened his watch. He turned as a member of staff approached him, his arm out wide, sweeping him towards the reception room.
‘We’ll be starting the press conference in half an hour if you’d like to get a drink, sir,’ he said. ‘The waiting staff will take care of you.’
Dan walked through a wide doorway and into a large ornate room, lit by chandeliers from a cathedral-height ceiling and, towards the front of the room, large bright television lights. A single hardwood lectern stood in front of a series of camera and microphone stands. A deep blue backdrop, onto which Delaney’s corporate logo had been embossed in silver stitching, glinted in the glare of the lights.
A passing waiter carrying a tray of drinks paused next to Dan and gestured to the array of glasses he was balancing. Dan nodded and helped himself to a tall glass of ice-cold beer. He took a mouthful, relishing the cool liquid, then loosened his tie a little. He glanced around the room and noticed people were beginning to take their seats.
He smiled and winked as he spotted Hayley with a work colleague as they walked past him. Hayley smiled but was caught up in another conversation and was swept past him to a front row seat.
Dan looked around and decided if he was merely attending as a casual observer, he may as well sit in the back row. He sat down, smiled briefly at the couple next to him and let his eyes wander round the room.
A hush fell over the crowd as a tall, th
in man in a suit approached the lectern. Dan watched as the man fussed over some wires on the floor, then adjusted the height of the main microphone. Finally, once happy with the arrangements, he gave the audience his full attention and held up his hands for silence.
‘Please, ladies and gentlemen, please.’ He turned to the press, the murmurs of conversation around the room falling away to silence. ‘Mr Delaney will be joining us shortly. He will give a ten minute presentation before we open the floor for a brief question and answer session,’ the thin man explained. He looked around the room. ‘Questions will be limited to the new joint venture and to next month’s coal conference in Sydney.’
A collective groan rumbled round the room from some members of the press who were present. The tall thin man looked down his nose at them.
‘We are not in the habit of entertaining questions of a spurious nature ladies and gentlemen, so please do not waste our time, nor that of your colleagues.’ He ducked his head slightly. ‘Thank you,’ he concluded and with a small bow, left the lectern.
Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The conversation in the room began to rise in volume again as people grew impatient. After a couple of minutes, a man walked past the front row of reporters and took his place behind the lectern. Dan watched as he observed the crowd.
He looked like a king appraising his subjects. Tall – a broad powerful man with a mane of thick white hair. His face was lined and tanned. Dan guessed he was in his sixties but couldn’t be sure – if the guy spent a lot of time out in the sun on his yacht, he may have been younger, it was hard to tell. He walked like he owned the room. Dan figured he probably did, given the number of non-press attendees, all lending their support, all probably indebted to the hulk of a man who now stood at the lectern, preening. A smattering of applause welcomed him before a hush fell over the room.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you,’ said the man. His voice was smooth, reassuring and powerful all at once, a deep baritone that resonated through the air.
‘For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Morris Delaney and I am the proud owner of Delaney Energy Corporation – among other businesses of course,’ he chuckled. A brief patter of sympathetic laughter sporadically filled the room then died away.
Delaney held up his hand, acknowledging the support.
‘We’re here today to celebrate the new joint venture between myself and my good friend and business colleague, Stephen Pallisder. Together, we are now capable of bringing an estimated additional seven hundred and fifty million dollars’ worth of business to this State over the next two years through our combined coal and rail consortium.’
Camera flashes permeated the room as Delaney’s supporters lent a thunderous applause to the moment.
Dan leaned forward and cast his eyes across the attendees. Most were held in rapture by Delaney. He concluded most of them would have a vested interest in Delaney’s success in the project, as well as other ventures he might have up his sleeve. He couldn’t help wonder who in the room would also resort to murder alongside Delaney to ensure their investments remained successful.
‘The joint venture will help cement clean coal technology in this state,’ continued Delaney. ‘Not only does this keep jobs safe in Australia, it provides us with enormous export opportunities which would be lost forever if we listened to the environmental scaremongers touting solar and wind power as the future for our country.’ He paused, soaking up the applause.
Dan tuned out as Delaney continued to sell the joint venture to the press then gestured to his press liaison officer to field any questions.
The tall thin man returned to the lectern and looked down his nose at the assembled guests. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, raise your hands please if you have any questions on the joint venture and we’ll address as many of them as we can in the short time we have available.’
Dan’s mind began to wander. It seemed most of the media representatives were toeing the line when it came to Delaney’s rules of engagement and were concentrating on the benefits of his project to the job market and state revenue.
Dan’s attention was drawn back to the room as Delaney held up his hands, grinned at the crowd and walked away from the lectern. He disappeared through a panelled door, closely followed by his entourage.
Dan waited until the audience began to stand and file out of the room back towards the reception area. A string quartet struck up a melody and as he glanced through the door, he spotted the same waiters working the small crowd, ensuring everyone had a drink. He followed the other guests through the doorway, and decided to call it a night. He nodded to the security guard at the main entrance and stepped through into the hot humid night air.
A sudden movement on the opposite end of the public concourse caught his attention. He glanced over, then did a double-take. It was a ghost, surely. He stared at the man in the t-shirt and board shorts leaning against the wrought-iron railings opposite the government building.
The man signalled to Dan not to react, his eyes twitching briefly to the doorway behind him. Dan glanced back. A security guard was sweeping his eyes over the small crowd of people which had spilled out of the press conference and were now milling about, exchanging business cards and saying their goodbyes. Dan looked back but the man had disappeared. Dan’s head was spinning.
That was Mitch!
He hadn’t seen him for three years – and he looked like he had borne a lot more knocks than the ones they’d suffered in Iraq together, but Dan was sure. He turned his head to the left, back towards the main road. The man reappeared and beckoned to Dan that he should follow.
What the hell was going on?
Dan rounded the corner. He saw the man walking down the street ahead of him. He quickened his pace. The man side-stepped into a concealed entrance to the park. One minute he was walking along the street, the next minute he was gone.
Dan broke into a run, his jacket flapping open. He reached the park entrance and stepped through the unlit gate. He slipped off his tie and put it in his jacket pocket. No sense in providing a free weapon to a potential attacker. He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness after the brightly lit street.
‘Here,’ said a voice to his right.
Dan’s head spun round. He looked closer and saw a shadowy figure step out from another narrow path. ‘Mitch?’
A tall, lanky man stepped towards him, a broad grin across his face. ‘Good to see you Dan. What the bloody hell are you doing in Brisbane?’
Dan smiled and the two men shook hands.
‘Long story – you?’
Mitch shrugged. ‘This and that. Basically trying to keep out of trouble.’
‘Doesn’t sound like you,’ said Dan.
‘Yeah, well. Times change, you know.’
Mitch stepped away from Dan and looked over his shoulder back towards the gate.
Dan followed his gaze. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ said Mitch. ‘Just checking you weren’t followed.’
Dan looked at Mitch. ‘How’ve you been Mitch? Haven’t seen you since they medi-vac’d us out.’
Mitch shrugged. ‘Not too bad, considering. Got a limp and I lost my sight in one eye. I’ve probably got the mirror image of your scars, given I was standing right next to you.’
Dan looked down at his feet and wondered how long after sleep the nightmares would return that night.
‘What about you, Dan? You okay?’
Dan shook his head. ‘Not really mate, no.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how it can be.’
Mitch nodded. ‘What are you doing this side of the world?’
Dan grinned. ‘Learning to surf.’
Mitch snorted. ‘Bollocks.’ He looked around them, then back at Dan. ‘Got time for a drink?’
‘Always,’ said Dan. ‘Somewhere quiet though, okay? I feel like I’m too old for most of the bars around here.’
Mitch grinned. ‘I know what you mean. Come on – there’s a hotel further down by the river. It’s got a
courtyard bar tucked away from everyone except paying guests.’
‘You going up in the world?’ asked Dan as he followed Mitch down a winding path which seemed to follow the direction of the main street.
‘Hell no,’ grinned Mitch. ‘I just know I have to look like I belong there. Don’t worry – they’re more laid back in most places around here compared with back home.’
‘Just as well,’ said Dan, as he glanced down at Mitch’s apparel of shirt, board shorts and sandals.
Five minutes later, Mitch had ducked down a small alley behind a row of shops. The pathway opened out into a paved courtyard with a fountain and a bronze statue in the middle of it. A doorway to the left led to a small bar. Dan looked up at the sign above the door.
Patrons only.
Mitch followed his gaze and shrugged. ‘Well, we’re patrons now,’ he grinned and walked up to the bar. He ordered two bottles of premium lager, having decided the draught beer would be an insult to his taste buds, and handed one to Dan.
‘To better times,’ he said, and held his beer up to Dan in a toast.
Dan mirrored the gesture but said nothing.
‘Let’s sit over in the corner out of the way,’ said Mitch, who led the way.
He chose two armchairs which faced the three available entrances to the bar – one from the courtyard, one from the road and another from within the hotel – and gestured to Dan to take a seat. Dan grunted with approval. Old habits died hard. Backs to the wall, facing any potential threat.
White Gold: (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 9
