have to tread carefully, and rely on her own instincts. Wasn’t she used to that?
She folded up the newspaper and slipped it into the front seat pocket. Out of the window, the green gardens and swimming pools of Brisbane’s modern, suburban houses came into view. Up ahead, city skyscrapers loomed.
As she started putting her papers away, a sobering thought popped into her head. A day or two ago, Ellen Chambers would have been sitting on a plane, preparing to land. Now she was dead, brutally murdered.
Derek’s words rang in her ears. Watch your back in Brisbane!
*
On the ground, Jess walked into the cavernous domestic terminal and switched on her mobile to get her messages. Putting the phone to her ear, a loud static noise made her jump, then she heard a faint click on the line. Frowning, she slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and set off for the exit.
As she passed the luggage belt, a group of Chinese men in Western suits caught her eye as they chatted and jostled each other for a spot to haul off their luggage. They had to be the Chinese Delegation. She looked around. Derek Marshall was nowhere to be seen, but striding towards them now was the unmistakable figure of Australian Federal Minister Anthony Harris. Unmistakable, because he stood head and shoulders above any of them, and cut a striking figure in his dark suit, and with his shock of blond hair flopping across his forehead. People stared as if he looked familiar, but they couldn’t quite place him.
Harris greeted the Chinese warmly, as if he knew them well. That didn’t surprise Jess. He was the Minister responsible for the mining sector in Australia. She would expect him to be doing whatever he could to help Western Energy secure the LNG deal, even if the Government were publicly saying they weren’t involved in the commercial negotiation.
Jess knew and liked Harris. He was a regular guest at the High Commissioner’s lunches and dinners. She often sat next to him, and found him down to earth and easy to talk to. But today she was in a hurry and didn’t want to get held up. Seeing Harris get into conversation with one of the Chinese, she turned to leave…
Too late.
Harris caught her eye and beckoned.
She had no option but to go over. Getting closer, she noticed how grey and drawn he looked; his crumpled suit gave her the impression he’d been up all night. By contrast, the Chinese man looked relaxed.
“Hello, Jessica.”
“Morning, Minister.” She looked at her watch. “Or is it afternoon? Australian time zones always confuse me.”
“It’s 12 noon,” he said, distractedly, before turning sideways to the man standing next to him. “Can I introduce you to Chen Xiamen, Chairman of China’s National Energy Corporation?”
Chen? So this was the man under surveillance with Ellen Chambers, she thought, as she held out her hand. “Jessica Turner, British Consul.”
At first, Chen reacted like most Chinese by inclining his head and avoiding eye contact. But then he surprised her. Shaking her hand with a firm grip, his eyes bore into hers as if trying to read her thoughts. Jess met his glance coolly. His skin felt soft, and his manicured nails caught her eye, along with the expensive Rolex on his wrist. He was obviously well-heeled. She couldn’t tell his age, but looking at the fine wisps of grey hair above his ears, she guessed he must be in his 60s.
Chen gave her a broad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Harris intervened. “Are you here about Ellen Chambers, Jessica?” His breath seemed to catch in his throat.
She nodded. “Terrible, isn’t it?”
Chen tried a tragic smile this time, but it seemed contrived. Not only did he seem cold and distant, she got the impression he didn’t want her around. And that was fine with her. “Well, you must excuse me,” she said to Harris. “I have to go.” She turned. “Enjoy your visit, Mr Chen. Goodbye.” She started walking towards the exit and had almost got away when
She folded up the newspaper and slipped it into the front seat pocket. Out of the window, the green gardens and swimming pools of Brisbane’s modern, suburban houses came into view. Up ahead, city skyscrapers loomed.
As she started putting her papers away, a sobering thought popped into her head. A day or two ago, Ellen Chambers would have been sitting on a plane, preparing to land. Now she was dead, brutally murdered.
Derek’s words rang in her ears. Watch your back in Brisbane!
*
On the ground, Jess walked into the cavernous domestic terminal and switched on her mobile to get her messages. Putting the phone to her ear, a loud static noise made her jump, then she heard a faint click on the line. Frowning, she slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and set off for the exit.
As she passed the luggage belt, a group of Chinese men in Western suits caught her eye as they chatted and jostled each other for a spot to haul off their luggage. They had to be the Chinese Delegation. She looked around. Derek Marshall was nowhere to be seen, but striding towards them now was the unmistakable figure of Australian Federal Minister Anthony Harris. Unmistakable, because he stood head and shoulders above any of them, and cut a striking figure in his dark suit, and with his shock of blond hair flopping across his forehead. People stared as if he looked familiar, but they couldn’t quite place him.
Harris greeted the Chinese warmly, as if he knew them well. That didn’t surprise Jess. He was the Minister responsible for the mining sector in Australia. She would expect him to be doing whatever he could to help Western Energy secure the LNG deal, even if the Government were publicly saying they weren’t involved in the commercial negotiation.
Jess knew and liked Harris. He was a regular guest at the High Commissioner’s lunches and dinners. She often sat next to him, and found him down to earth and easy to talk to. But today she was in a hurry and didn’t want to get held up. Seeing Harris get into conversation with one of the Chinese, she turned to leave…
Too late.
Harris caught her eye and beckoned.
She had no option but to go over. Getting closer, she noticed how grey and drawn he looked; his crumpled suit gave her the impression he’d been up all night. By contrast, the Chinese man looked relaxed.
“Hello, Jessica.”
“Morning, Minister.” She looked at her watch. “Or is it afternoon? Australian time zones always confuse me.”
“It’s 12 noon,” he said, distractedly, before turning sideways to the man standing next to him. “Can I introduce you to Chen Xiamen, Chairman of China’s National Energy Corporation?”
Chen? So this was the man under surveillance with Ellen Chambers, she thought, as she held out her hand. “Jessica Turner, British Consul.”
At first, Chen reacted like most Chinese by inclining his head and avoiding eye contact. But then he surprised her. Shaking her hand with a firm grip, his eyes bore into hers as if trying to read her thoughts. Jess met his glance coolly. His skin felt soft, and his manicured nails caught her eye, along with the expensive Rolex on his wrist. He was obviously well-heeled. She couldn’t tell his age, but looking at the fine wisps of grey hair above his ears, she guessed he must be in his 60s.
Chen gave her a broad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Harris intervened. “Are you here about Ellen Chambers, Jessica?” His breath seemed to catch in his throat.
She nodded. “Terrible, isn’t it?”
Chen tried a tragic smile this time, but it seemed contrived. Not only did he seem cold and distant, she got the impression he didn’t want her around. And that was fine with her. “Well, you must excuse me,” she said to Harris. “I have to go.” She turned. “Enjoy your visit, Mr Chen. Goodbye.” She started walking towards the exit and had almost got away when
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